#not even suicidal over all this anymore it’s just like. yeah. of course this would happen

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[kittlyns]

The laptop charger I ordered ended up not working for my laptop……….. when I say literally anything that could go wrong for me has gone wrong…………………… I’m on the fucking brink!!!!

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Petrichor. | joel miller x f!reader, 4.1k

Summary: You underestimate yourself but Joel doesn't like what's his to be degrated. Unless, he's the one doing it. He makes sure you know your place.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, allusion to suicidal thoughts BUT it's a misunderstanding, low self esteem!reader, established relationship, unspecified age gap (make it you own😏), dom!Joel, sub!reader, dd/lg vibes, pet names(darlin', baby, sweetheart, little girl, good girl), degradation kink, praise kink, size kink, daddy kink, oral m!receiving, masturbation f!receiving, dacryphilia, pussy slapping (quite a few), deepthroating, facial, cum eating, aftercare, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: First of all, thank you for your love on my little drabble Take me, I didn't expect it at all and I'm so glad you liked it, it really means the world! 🙈 Now, for this fella here, I swear to god it was supposed to be a drabble, I even named its draft as such, because I'm so decisive and steady.😂 I don’t know what happened, it started as a pwp but of course I had to go and pepper it with some feelings.🙄 And then @iamasaddie had a smut fic prompt including “Baby, you know, Daddy only hurts you because you look so pretty when you cry.” line and it fitted so damn well, like Joel's cock fits in reader's pussy, so there's that. 🥵🥵

P.S.: I hate summaries, I hate them, I wish someone else would write them for me. Ok, I love you all, let me know what you think!

Song on repeat: The kooks - Sway

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Maybe this is your favorite sound in the world, you think as you hear the rain drops hit the -floor to ceiling- windows of your loft.

Your mind wanders to your childhood memories searching for confirmation. And you think that, yes, this is it. So, it makes perfect sense that your favorite scent is that of the soaked soil after raining. Petrichor. You smile softly to yourself.

He seems to notice that. But then, he always does.

He’s on his side facing you, all 5’11” of his magnificent naked body laying on your bed, his head resting on the pillow. One hand under your neck, as you lay flat on your back, the other reaching for your jawline, turning you to face him instead of the window.

You turn to him, gladly, because this, this is your favorite sight in the world. Him. The soft glow from the lights outside is the only source of illumination and he couldn’t be more beautiful than right now. He makes your heart ache instantly. His calm and safe presence in your life is such a juxtaposition to the shadows of your past, it brings a lump in your throat. You swallow it down.

“Why the smile, baby?” he speaks carefully, like he feels the antithesis of the emotions inside you right now. And there it is, at last. This is the answer you’re looking for. This, this is your favorite sound in the world. His voice.

Your palm lands on the hand petting your cheek. “No reason,” you smile to him, “just feeling content.”

“Are you, though?” he insists after a minute, “feeling content?”

“I-, yeah, of course I do, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“I hope you do. You know what you mean to me, what your presence in my life means to me, right?” your voice is lightly wavering, the lump in your throat lurking still. “And- and I’m so happy with my job and my new place and everyth-”

“Why did you choose this place?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that. From all the places we’ve seen, why this? I saw in your eyes it did something to you.” And if you ever entertained the idea that maybe some things get past him, you do not anymore. You can’t hide from him. And you find that, oddly, liberating.

“Because it’s everything I'm not; I wanted to challenge myself.”

He’s curious now. After all these bits and pieces over these past few months you’re giving him something more. He knows there’s more. “How so?”

“It’s just-”, you roll your eyes in frustration, trying to compare a space to a person, “so open, so bare, no hiding spaces, you know, open floor and everything, I remember when I first walked in it made me feel uneasy, insecure, intimidated. So I rented it.”, you shrug like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why would you feel all that?”

He raises his head supporting it on his palm as he studies your profile from his side, seeing your struggle, the waterline of your eyes glassing over, the vein on your forehead bulging. There’s so much you want to tell him, confide in him, confess to him, but you don’t know where to begin. How to sum all this shit up.

“I just- I have lived my life without actually living. I just- existed. I compromised, backed down, let myself be led by people who were supposed to be my family and now-” your lips are trembling and you bite your bottom lip to stop it, your throat is closing, you feel this ache, this burning sensation inside of it, like acid through your veins, making you unable to breathe, let alone speak. Your face turns pinkish, the tears threatening to spill now, the sob ready to explode deep from your chest.

“-I just hate myself-” you mouth through an inaudible cry, still deprived of air in your lungs that they feel like they’re gonna collapse.

His legs straddle yours in a moment of panic, his eyes wide, his pupils blown, his body stiff, ready to engage in some kind of fight. He’s leaning above you, his long torso shadows over you, his huge hand cupping the back of your neck and pulls you in a sitting position underneath him. Your hands grab his forearms in confusion. It -he- makes you feel so tiny, which you are compare to him, but even more so, now that his knees are pressing down on the sides of your hips, holding his weight above your lap so he won’t completely crush you, making your body sink deeper into the mattress and suddenly you’re so small, so insignificant, so unnoticed to the rest of the room, of the apartment, of the world. Except from him. His eyes, raging fires, burning yours as they search for meaning, answers, reassurance. His fist is closing and tugging harshly at the hairs on the back of your neck, demanding all of your attention. The tears run freely down your cheeks now on their own volition, years of restrain and pain unleashed in a blink of an eye.

“Tell me I don’t need to fuckin’ worry about you.” he demands in a harsh tone, his expression painted with anger, desperation, agony.

You open your mouth to respond, but you are at loss for words, your thoughts hazy and confused.

“Tell me!” his voice high and urgent, now mirroring his expression, almost breaking.

And you get it now, you really do. The smell of fear, the fear of loss, the loss of existence.

Your eyes widen, your lips trembling again, “No, no!”, you shake your head violently, his grip on your scalp tightening more, in warning. His expression is torn, like the two faces of Janus, his jaw clenched in disbelief, but his eyes pained, begging, pleading for trust.

Your hands fly around his middle, squeezing him, your fingernails nearly tearing his flesh, “I swear Joel, no, that was not what I meant!” you’re desperate now, how could he think that, doesn’t he know what he means to you?

He doesn’t budge, he doesn’t move a muscle, his eyes keep scanning, keep searching. You try to rest your forehead to his stomach now, how massive he is above you and he allows it. His fist unclench from your hair, cupping your neck again tenderly, his mouth kissing the top of your head. Your arms hug him tighter now, pressing your face to his sweaty skin, inhaling his scent, grounding you, your fingers caressing his broad back up and down. “I swear, I swear.” you keep muttering on his skin, your nose deeply pressed against his firm chest now, barely breathing.

He moves both his hands to the sides of your neck, simply holding you and tilting your head up to look at him. He bends forward to touch your lips with his in a soft kiss, just flesh touching flesh. His forehead resting on yours, he sighs deeply, letting all the weight of the world go through his nostrils. “Don’t you ever-”

“I’m sorry Joel, I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant, I promise.” you apologize, pressing your chin to his skin, looking up at him. But his eyes are still searching, not letting this one go.

“I’m just pissed it took me so long to wake up. I’m scared I fucked my life up. I’m scared I missed my chance. I’m scared-” you shake your head slowly in disappointment as you try to explain and Joel keeps his eyes on you, waiting. He nods, he’s listening, he’s here. He’s got you. “I’m scared I’m so broken; there’s nothing left of me to be loved.” you hide your face back to his chest again.

He holds you tight, whispering at the crown of your head, “There’s so much left my darlin’, so much left. And I’m here to pick each and every piece of you up and mend it back together.” And you know he is. You just don’t know if you’re worth the trouble.

Suddently your senses are so overloaded, you just need something to ground you. Hard. His natural musk mixed with sweat and sex from earlier that night hits your nostrils, his soft now cock practically under your nose, on your lap. And there is another answer for you. This, this is your favorite scent in the world. His scent.

You inhale deeply, your forehead pressing on his skin, feeling the sparse hair of his chest and the steady beating of his heart. “I need you Joel.”

He tugs your hair gently to raise your head and looks at you. Really looks at you.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”, he moves his hands cupping your cheeks softly.

“I need you to punish me.” you plead with your eyes closed, embarrassment creeping in.

His breath is hitching in his throat, his eyes darken immediately, “Yeah?”

“Yeah..”

“Use your manners then and ask for it, properly.”

“Please sir, I need you to take control, put me in my place.” you feel your skin shiver, your core warming up again.

He just stares at you, making your heart flutter.

You can feel him hardening, his heavy cock brushing against your stomach. You go to palm him, stroke him to his full potential but he grabs your hand and swats it away.

“You're asking for two different things sweetheart and that tells me you're in a delicate headspace. So, I am taking control from you and I am not going to punish you.” he settles.

“But I wa-”

He raises his brows “Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, little girl?” and that effectively shuts you up and turns you on. He doesn’t speak again, he doesn’t say anything else, he just puts his hand on your throat, resting it there for a second, observing you and then he’s guiding you down on your back.

He straddles you higher, on your chest, now hard in all his glory. He’s a sight to behold. Naturally imposing, no pretenses, it’s just who he is. From his gaze to the sound of his voice and from the broadness of his shoulders to the thickness of his thighs, he’s all man.

You must look awestruck because he smirks softly. You open your mouth to -actually you don’t know what you want to ask, he just caught you off guard, but he beats you to it, explaining the situation clearly.

“When you disrespect yourself, you disrespect me and I will not have that. I will not, under any circumstances tolerate that kind of behavior. Do you understand that?”

You just lay there, mouth agape, eyes confused.

He slaps your cheek not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to sting a bit, to snap you out of your trance.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. So..” he brushes his thumb over your lips, pushing it in slowly, pressing down your tongue, “I’m gonna fuck some manners into that mouth, baby.” Oh, shit. “From now on, when you’re chocking on your tears, it’s gonna be because of me ramming my cock down your throat like it deserves.”

Your breath hitches at his vulgarity, your pupils are blown wide and your slick is running down your ass cheeks now. You suck around his thumb, your thighs pressing together in need of some friction.

“You like that, you little whore?”, he removes his thumb allowing you to respond.

You don't know where you find the nerve but, “I thought you said no disrespect.” you blurt out, you can’t help it, you want to rile him up.

“Oh, she speaks now!”, he raises his eyebrows in amusement. Or in a challenge, you’re not totally sure if you want to find out.

He breaths a laugh, shaking his head in a mockingly condencending way, “I don’t think you understand your place here little girl, so let me break it to you.”

His eyes are glazed over, some sort of wickedness mirroring in them. “Only I get to call you names. No one else. No one. Do you know why that is?” He leans in and looks above your head, a sign that he’s expecting an answer.

“Nnn- no.”

“Manners.”, he shakes your head, your jaw grabbed between his fingers.

“No, sir.”

He’s nodding his head slowly. “That’s because only daddy knows what you need.” You know there's more coming, so you stay silent.

“So, when I say you’re a whore, what do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when I say you’re my good girl, what do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when I say you’re gonna take whatever the fuck I give you, what do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Damn right.”, his cock twitches in front of you.

“Please, daddy.” You start whining and squirming underneath him, all needy and wet.

Yes, this is right. He is right. This is how you need it. This is how it should be. If your throat’s gonna hurt and burn and swell it’s gonna be from the invasion of Joel’s cock and not from the insecurities caused from your past.

“Please..” you keep whining.

“Manners, ‘mnot gonna ask again.”, he demands sternly. “And quit your whining, it won't get you anywhere good; got it?”

“Please, sir, let me touch you, pretty please.” you try with a steadier voice.

“Now, now, that’s a good girl right there, hm?” that seems to satisfy him. “Ok, baby, go on.”

Your trembling hands roam slowly all over his chest, then his stomach and the swell of his belly, moving all the way down to his thighs and finally up to the v of where they meet with his pelvis, massaging, caressing and squeezing him softly, circling your fingers around the base of his thick cock.

You're threading them through his pubic hair, your thumbs caressing lightly under him, on his scrotum. He inhales sharply, shivers raising the hairs on his forearms. You press his waist down on you more, resting his weight on you, his warm balls touching your sternum, his hands flat on his thighs.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face, studying you, recognizing the same want, the same desire and thirst that he feels, as you worship him. You raise your head trapping his cockhead under your chin, giving hot, open mouthed kisses to his base and his veiny shaft like you would make out with his mouth. You let him slide to the side of your face, his precum painting your cheek as you bring his cock above you, kissing and licking his underside, lightly sucking his protruding vein.

His eyes darken, enough of your teasin’. He fists his cock, stroking it slowly once, twice, his thumb pressing it down to guide it into your salivating mouth. He swipes his tip across your lips, smearing his precum all over them.

“What do you do if you want me to stop?”, he checks with you.

“Joel..” you drag the vowels of his name on your tongue.

“Show. Me.”, he demands, so you move your hand to his thigh and you tap three times.

“Good. Now, open.”

You just want to consume him, suck his soul out of his perfect slit. So, you obey, sticking your tongue out. He taps his wide head on your wet muscle one, two, three times and then he invades you, moving his hips forward.

There’s something so undeniably erotic about the movement of his pelvis, like a statement, I choose to give and you accept to take, a balancing of the dynamic between you; you could watch him thrust into you forever.

You take him in as far as you can manage without chocking. The feel of every vein and ridge filling your mouth, dragging on your tongue, is driving you crazy.

You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head back and forth in rhythm with his thrusts, while your tongue swirls over his delicious pink head, so soft and velvet, your cunt clenches at the memory of it stretching your tight cunt.

You exhale loudly through your nose, and you’re in a frenzy now, you can’t keep a pace or build him slowly up as you’d normally do. You need him now, all of him, as fast and hard as you can, or you’re gonna die, you think. Your eyes roll back and you’re moaning so loud, Joel feels the vibrations from tip to base.

“F-fuck”, he’s taken aback from your fervor, his jaw slack and his brows pinched together from the intensity of your pace.

“Mnot gonnghhhh-”, he groans deeply, every thought of dominance long gone when you’re giving him head like this. Normally, he’d punish you for attempting to take more than he offers, but your neediness is overwhelming. His breathing is faster, louder, in an effort to level himself. His hands fly to your head, like he would hold to your hips if he was fucking you from behind. He’s taking control now for both of your sake.

His fists tighten on your head, keeping you steady and compliant, his little rug-doll, like you’d go anywhere anyway. He’s all the way in now, your nose brushing his pubic hair, his scent driving you wild. He’s fucking himself into your tight throat harder and harder, the noises from your choking on his massive length and the drooling around your mouth might embarrassed you in another life, but not in this one, not now, not with him.

You take everything because he’s everything. Nothing else exists beyond him. He blinks; you see, he moves; you shift, he laughs; you bloom, he breathes; you live.

You don’t even think of your pleasure until he palms your cunt with one hand and your juices cover his fingers. He slows his pace, thrusting into your mouth almost sensually.

“Sucking daddy’s cock made you this wet, sweetheart?”

He starts to rub your swollen clit up and down, knowing how much more intense the sensation is for you this way. You’re already so close, you can feel your lower belly tense with a familiar warmth. You moan around his cock while you begin to grind your hips against his deftly fingers. You should know better.

He slaps your pussy, the wet sound of his palm on your soaked folds making you feral. “Mmmmm” you groan, arching your back unsuccessfully under that mountain of a man above you, rolling your eyes back, your hips never stoping their movement. You're so far gone, it should be embarrassing.

He slaps you again, harder this time and then a third time in quick succession. The impact with your clit sends waves of arousal all over your body, your cunt gushing your slick all over the sheets now.

Your body tenses, your hands squeeze his ass so hard, little moon-shaped indentations mark his skin and your legs are trembling. Tears start running from your eyes to your temples from the intensity of the act.

“You’re a wild little thing, aren't you?”, still slow-fucking your face, his middle and ring finger tapping quickly on your swollen bundle of nerves. “Playing coy and innocent until my cock’s in your mouth, only to come on my palm, hm?” And then he slaps your mound again.

“Mmmmm” you moan desperately, your face contorted in pleasure, tears pooling in your ears, your whole body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You feel him twitching in your mouth while you swallow around him. He’s hard and hot inside you and that makes you drool even more as you suck him off with everything you got. Your neck hurts, your jaw hurts, your lips are stretched to their limit, but you’re not stopping for a second.

You start to whimper and his hand leaves your hair to thumb your tears, bringing it to his mouth. You watch him trapping his digit between his plush lips and sucking on it, tasting your saltiness and everything feels so intimate, sobs start shaking your chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

You try to push him away to breathe but Joel keeps fucking your mouth. “You know what to do if you want me to stop.”

You keep struggling to breathe but you are not going to tap his thigh.

Joel doesn’t stop, either. “You either tap, or you fuckin’ take it.”, he warns, but you shake your head in denial. “Then I guess you can take it, little girl.”, he concludes while he watches you still struggling and sobbing.

“Baby, you know, Daddy only hurts you because you look so pretty when you cry.” he says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to calm yourself, more tears spilling out, nodding at the best of your ability.

“That’s how you gonna come for me”. You didn’t expect that.

You’re not sure you can do it and your body stiffens. It hurts good, what he's doing, leaving you panting and wanting, but you fear it's not enough to make you come. He can read that on you and he feels your hesitation.

He moves his thumb to your cheekbone, caressing it gently. Then he moves it lower, to the corner of your outstretched mouth, feeling himself sliding in and out of you. “Fuck, baby, you take me so good. You’re doin’ so good for me,” he’s panting and you know he’s holding himself back, “your mouth was made for daddy’s cock. Just let go baby, don't fight it, ok? I got you, you’re gonna be ok.”

He starts fucking your mouth roughly now, his heavy balls slapping on your wet chin, the sounds echoing in the room nearly pornographic. His hand resumes rubbing your clit in tight circles now, building you up, then tapping it a few times to bring you close and then slapping it once to bring you back from the edge, before he starts all over again.

Circling. Tapping. Slapping.

Circling. Tapping. Slapping.

Circling. Tapping. Slapping.

The bastard is fucking edging you.

He did exactly what you asked of him. He took control, left no room for thoughts, for decisions, for questioning. You just lay there and you take it.

“Daddy needs you to come, right fuckin’ now darlin’; be my good girl and give me what’s mine.” he commands and you obey, because there is no other way.

Your orgasm is explosive, your cunt spasming violently, your eyes rolling into your head, Joel’s pulling back his cock from your open mouth to let you breathe properly but you’re holding your breath in. “Theeere she is, there she fuckin' is..”he smirks in satisfaction, his fingers keep circling your overstimulated clit to prolong your high while he jerks himself fast above your lips.

You exhale loudly when you remember you need to breathe, the air is coming out of your lungs forcefully, hitting Joel’s tip and he comes instantly, thick ropes of milky cum painting your cheeks, nose and lips, running down to your jaw and neck. There’s so much of it, its warmth on your sweaty skin making your pussy keep clenching.

All because of that gorgeous man above you. Because it’s a part of him and he’s gifting it to you.

Joel brings his hand from between your legs to the side of your head, steadying himself, leaning above you, his head resting low between his shoulders, his breathing erratic and loud. His eyes are closed shut, his face wrecked, his muscles still convulsing from his intense orgasm.

Please, open them, let me look at you and he does open them, making you realize you said it out loud. His gaze is one of adoration and something else you don’t dare acknowledge. The edges of his mouth are curled up in a soft smirk.

His fingers caress your face, gathering his seed from your skin and feeding it to your starved mouth. You suck around his thick fingers, your tongue swiping everything clean. He places a soft kiss on your lips tasting himself on you, before he stands to fetch a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up.

You close your eyes and just lay there, still, utterly content and satisfied, lighter than ever. In peace. You feel the mattress dip under his weight again and him gently cleaning your face and neck, then between your legs, discarding the cloth on the hardwood floor when he’s done and laying on top of you, peppering soft kisses all over your face.

“Good?” he whispers against your lips.

“Yes, thank you daddy”. You bring your hands on the sides of his head, kissing the space between his earlobe and jaw, then his jawline, his bottom lip, the edge of his mouth, the apple of his cheek as he smiles, the tip of his nose.

It’s how you know to say thank you, I care about you, too; I love you.

For now.

[islayhawkin]

Let me help you

Newt x f!reader

Summery: you're both in love with eachother and newt pays you a visit in the med hut so you can take care of his limp.

Pining teenagers/feelings/slight hurt/comfort/ pure fluff

Trigger warning: mentions of injury and suicide attempt

part 2

The light was getting darker outside the med-hut and you could see the boys return to their sleeping bags as you pulled out a lighter and lit the candle on the table. Every day was like this. You'd take the afternoon shift in the med-hut, you'd have no work to do when it got dark, then you'd do some reading and wait for newt to pick you up. Somehow this routine developed over time. Newt had to do his evening round to check if everything was normal and safe to go to bed. The two of you weren't dating, though the others teased newt constantly about it. And if he would be honest he wished it would be true.

Ever since you came up he couldn't help but adore you. It was about a few weeks after his suicidal attempt. He still had his improvised prop around his leg and crutches to move around. His thoughts had been eating him up from the inside.

And there you were. Of course there was a big ruckus about you being a girl but after a while they all realised how much they needed you in their group. Between the boys there was rarely a gentle touch or loving words. You brought a bit more love, bit more home into their midst. And newt was probably the one most needing of it at that moment. You became a med jack and every boy tried to come up with various reasons to need to be taken care of by you.

Newt obviously didn't need to find a reason. You were the one searching him out. Looking after his leg every other day. Doing what you could to ease his pain even thought he was always terribly embarrassed of needing help. But he loved those moments. It gave him hope. He felt comfort, he felt loved and cared for just for a moment and he chased that feeling ever since. At first he didn't understand what this feeling in his chest was when he saw you laugh, or look at him, crinkle your nose...literally anything you did. He was just a kid after all.

But now he wasn't anymore and he could tell exactly what he was feeling.

Newt walked into the doorway of the med-hut and leaned against the doorframe. Deliberately released the pressure of his bad leg and leaned on his good leg only.

You looked up from your book and gave him a smile. You noticed that his hair was a bit wet and because of this a bit darker than usual. "Hey. You finished?"

"Yeah." He gave you one of his sweet cheeky smiles.

You scanned his form as you noticed his stance against the doorframe. A small frown building on your face. "Is your leg acting up?" You asked softly.

Newt looked down at himself. "Uh I suppose that bloody thing is giving me a hard time right now. But it's alright. No need to worry." He dismissed.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Wha- no I was just gettin' you. I don't need anything..." He broke your gaze suddenly very interested in the wooden floor.

You gave him a look and stood up. "I'm gonna help you wether you want it or not. We can do it here or in bed if we're going anyways."

He sighed as a slight blush crept up his cheeks. "No that's really not nec-"

"It is newt. I know you want it too. You're just too..." you gestured at him. "Selfless to ask for help. Has always been the same with you..." you shook your head slightly. "Just sit down please." You pointed to the nearest bed.

He dramatically sighed and limped over to it to sit down. "How long have you been walking around like this?" You asked softly.

"Week or so." He muttered meakly.

You gave him a incredilous look. "Newt! I told you to come. Bloody shank." You scolded him in a loving way.

He looked down in his lap again. "Sorry. It wasn't that bad..."

"Yeah you could've gone a bit more until you literally collapse like last time. I don't know what you're punishing yourself for but I'm not allowing it again."

"I'm not-" he sighed and looked up. His deep brown eyes scanning your face. "Okay."

The side of your mouth quirked into a smile. "Good."

You lit the little stove with the flame of the candle and set a pot of water on to heat up. Clint and jeff had improvised a heat pad and filled a waterproof bag with hot water a while back. It worked surprisingly well. You always used it for your period days.

Meanwhile newt layed down on the bed. His leg dangled from the side and his arms rested lazily behind his head. That's when you realised his damp hair again. "Why's you're hair wet?" You pointed out.

He grabbed a strand to inspect it. "Showered."

You hummed in acknowledgement.

"I need to show the greenie around tommorow." You could hear that he was tired. His accent was getting thicker.

"Why you? Alby's in charge of that." You raised your brows.

"Yeah but apperently he's gone nuts the last few days and minho told me to do it because I'm a warmer welcome. I need to do every bloody thing around here. These shanks can't do anythin' on their own." He muttered.

"True. They'd be in chaos without you to keep them in line. Honestly a lot of them have anger issues I'm telling you."

Newt snickered.

"You wanna walk around with that greenie all day? I can ask fry. Or minho for that matter. He owes me a favour anyways."

Newt puffed some air out. "S'alright." His head turned. "Wait he owes you? For what?"

You supressed a smirk. "You don't wanna know."

Now newt wasn't able to stop his thoughts from running wild of possibilities what you did for minho.

You filled the heat bag up with hot water from the pot and closed it securely. Then you made your way over to him again and sat down on the bed. You lifted his limp up slightly and as he noticed your intention he moved it over your legs so you had a good acess to it. You softly pushed the trouser leg up above his knee that you could see his naked leg. His leg was skinny and pale as the rest of him. It had hair on it but not long and they were blonde so you couldn't really see it.

Not that you were thinking about such things in this moment.

Newt didn't really think about his body. Other then the hate he felt for that bloody limp he didn't care about such things. They were stuck in the middle of a maze with old clothes that they had to wear everyday. Those things weren't important to anybody in the glade.

But when you were looking at his bare leg he always was nervous. His eyes watched you closely from the position he was laying in. You could feel his eyes on you but it wasn't unpleasent.

You took the heat pad and layed it on his knee, making warmth spread through his leg. It eased the throbbing in his leg as his muscels relaxed. You both stayed like this for a moment. Your hand surrounding his knee with the heating pad. Silence filled the hut but it was comfortable. After a few moments you removed the pad again and layed it to the side. "Feels good right?"

"Yeah..." He whispered.

You placed you hands onto his warm knee now instead. "You tell me if something hurts. No refrain."

He hummed contently and nodded slightly.

As you started to massage the area around his knee gently you watched his face very closely for any discomfort. He let out a sigh with a small unwilling sound making it's way out of his throat. The blood rushed into his cheeks and his eyes snapped to yours to look at your reaction. "Sorry I didn't mean to..."

"Sorry for what? Enjoy to get your pain eased?" You gave him a comforting smile.

"Yeah." He mumbled. Relieved at your reaction he tried to let himself relax again and slow his heartbeat a bit.

You stroked and pressed over his calf and stretched his leg softly. Bending his knee and stretching the fascia. Every move of you made was tender and deliberate. Made with care.

Newt loved the feeling of your hands on his leg. It felt heavenly and he never wanted you to remove your hands from him again. This continued for minutes in silence. Only small breaths that escaped his mouth were heard in the room. When you hit a particular spot he let out a "ow."

"Sorry. In what way did this hurt?" You asked softly.

"Uh in my knee."

"Alright. Sorry."

"Didn't hurt much..." he trailed off as you put your soft hand onto his knee and caressed it with your thumb as if to soothe it. The warmth spread through his leg again. Now because of your hand He blinked and swallowed hastily. You didn't move your hand, just let it rest on him. His heartbeat increased slightly aa he took deep breaths. For some reason there were tears behind his eyes.

"Does it feel better now?" You looked up at him with soft eyes.

"Great." He breathed out. Still a bit out of it.

You removed your hand reluctantly and pulled the leg of his trousers down again. You gave his leg a little pet and stood up from the bed. He rolled himself up to a sitting position again and watched how you extinguished the flame of the stove.

"I need to sleep otherwise the alarm won't be able to wake me." He jawned.

You chuckled. "Now then let's get you snuggled up." You ruffled his hair playfully and he gave a small protest. You picked the lit candle from the table with the other hand. The two of you made your way outside and newt secured the lock on the door of the med-hut.

You strolled side by side over the field to the homestead in the light of the candle and your arms were brushing against one another to seek the others presence.

"You know, your accents gets a lot thicker when you're tired or drunk. Drunk is so bad sometimes I can't even understand you." You noted as you looked up at him. The soft light of the candle flickered over his soft features and enlighting his hair in a golden hue.

A smile appeared on his face though he was a bit embarrassed about your comment as he didn't meet your eye. "Really? I didn't know that. Sorry I guess. You'll have to remind me when I'm drunk so I'll speak more clearly."

"Oh you're just speaking nonsense anyways when you're drunk." You nudged him with your shoulder and he laughed.

"You really don't understand me sometimes?" He asked still perplexed about these news.

"Rarely. But it happens sometimes yes. If you're talking fast. Or as I said when you're tired or drunk."

"Oh that's- didn't know it was that noticeable. Can't really do anything about it. I'm not aware that I do it." He shrugged sheepishly. You could clearly hear his awareness of it now and how he tried to speak more clearly without a accent.

"I wouldn't want you to change it. I like it." You grinned.

He looked down to you stunned. He'd never thought someone would like that about him. And the way you said it so nonchalant perplexed him. "You like it?" His voice was slightly higher than normal.

"Yeah sure. It sounds...nice to listen to." You looked ahead.

His cheeks bore a taint of red again. "I er- thank you. I never thought of it like that." You liked his accent. His voice. You liked to listen to him. Newt felt a tingling sensasion in his belly.

He opened and held the homestead door open for you. You made your way inside and up the steps to your room. You had a own as the only girl and alby and newt insisted on it for your safety. You didn't always use it as you enjoyed sleeping outside with the others too.

Newt and alby had a room together next to you as the leader and second in command. So you stopped in front of your respektive doors. "Night newt. See you tommorow."

"Good night Y/N. Sleep well."

You smiled at eachother before entering your rooms. You had a smile on your face as you tucked yourself into bed and thought of newt doing the same on the other side of the wall. Newt layed down in his bed too with a grin on his face. Alby gave him a knowing look but didn't comment on it. His limp long forgotten and the pain eased for a moment as the warmth spread throught his form. For this evening he felt at home.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Cos' sometimes sleep isn't enough anymore | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, C - Cos' sometimes sleep isn't enough anymore

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

I guess I'm on a roll tonight? 3 parts posted so far, I'm not even sure how many parts this will end up with but, um, yeah, i hope you like this one and it's not to heavy to read.

Absolutely none of it's proof-read so yet again it could seem jumbled up or not even make sense but umm I can't sleep and my brain is overthinking at 4 am so this is the result of it :)

Thanks for all the continuous love and support on this so far!

Waking up in hospital, you think over your thoughts about what happened and wonder if you really did mean to do it?

tw: heavy angst, talks of SH, MH, suicide and death.

Bright lights and slow repetive beeps followed by the sterile smell of a hospital enrivoment.

That's how you knew it was bad when you woke up.

You really hadn't mean for it to get to that point though, you made the mistake of cutting deeper than you should have and now you have landed yourself in the hospital.

This was definitely not your smartest move you had pulled.

Something tells you it wouldn't be so easy to hide your pain behind a fake smile now.

You felt the wet tears covering your own hand along with the heavy weight of another body practically leaning on you.

"Geez, did somebody die in here or something?" Was the first words you spoke since you had fallen unconcious and of course, it was with your usual cocky teenage atttiude.

Dark humour has always been your go to, you hate to show any type of vulnerability.

"Y/N/N" Leah voice croaks in surprise as she sits bolt up right to look straight at you. "You're awake, finally!" she immediately breaks down into sobs again as she reaches towards you and wraps her arms around you.

"Yeah, I'm awake but there's no need to cry about it" You struck back with the same cocky atittude, that drove your team mates crazy but loved you never the less. "Seriously though, did someone die? Cos' you're crying that much right now that I'm begining to think so" you note, hiding your own pain behind the smile.

Just keep smiling, nobody will ask questions.

Everyone will think you're fine.

"Seriously, Y/N?" Leah is quick to smack you around the back of the head as she's now giving you one of her famous glares, one that you knew all too well. "You scared me to death, you little shit!" she admits, showing her vunerability.

"Ow. Ow-- Hey, you can't hit me, I'm fragile right now" You can't help but pout and hope for sympathy from the older blonde girl.

"Fragile, huh? You seem fine enough to be making jokes" Leah remarks as she continues to glare at you.

"Come on, you know that dark humour is the way to go sometimes Le" You grin at the blonde, who doesn't seem to have the same idea.

See? Totally easy to hide your pain.

Leah just stares at you in disbelief you're really cracking jokes right now, "You're unbelieve sometimes, Y/F/N" she mutters aloud.

"Uh oh, your using my full name, am I in trouble now?" You can't help to continue with your cocky, I don't give a shit attitude never the less you had worried all of your team mates like you did.

"Right now I'm just glad that you're alive," Leah admits as she rewraps her arms around you and squeezes you gently. "But if you ever scare me like that again then we'll be having a very different conversation!" she tells you, sternly.

"Okay" You wince slightly as the tightness of the hug that the blonde was very reluctant to let go off you. "Seriously, Le. I'm fine now, why are you still crying so much?" You ask, confused.

"I'm crying because I... I thought I had really lost you this time" Leah speaks her thoughts aloud as she still holds onto you like you would disappear all over again. "When I found you, like the... like the way I did, I thought you was going to die" she adds in, quietly.

Your own amused smile starts to falter as you glance down at the bandages wrapped around your arm. "I'm sorry... I am really sorry for scaring you like that" You apologise quietly, starting to realise the seriousness of it all.

You must've had all of your team mates so worried and right now you were only acting like a total jackass about it.

"I was so scared" Leah replies as she pulls away from hugging you before she readjusts to move onto the bed beside you. "There was so much blood, Y/N/N. I... I thought when we arrived at the hospital, it would be too late and I'd be saying goodbye to you instead" she explains, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat.

Shit, why did I go and do that? I've made Leah almost have a nervous break down.

How could you be so selfish? You didn't deserve the love you recieved from your team mate.

"I bet the bathrooms' a right bloody mess now then" You can't help the comment that slips out of your mouth.

Once again, dark humour is a key to hiding the reality of pain.

Leah clicks her tongue at your comment, although she can tell exactly what you're doing now.

You had been doing it all this long so easily, it was just that nobody realised it.

"Why didn't you tell me that it was getting bad again?" The blondes' question is something that catches you off guard.

Guilt-striken to hear her words, you found sudden interest with the crisp white sheets currently covering you.

There was a lot of things that you could have said, but would she want to hear any of it?

Nobody can help me with the way I feel,

I'm so tired,

I wanted to relieve the pain, I wanted a way out.

All of the questions racing through your mind, you actually began to wonder if you had cut yourself that deep on purpose? Did your own selfishness overshadow any other feelings inside of you.

The battle with your inner demons was just too much sometimes, you was just so exhausted now.

So, why couldn't you have just been left to die instead?

"What's going on inside your head, Y/N/N?" Leah's next question brought you out of your dark thoughts. "Talk to me, you know that I'm here to listen" she states with a gentle tone of voice.

Although the next words that you speak are nothing that she can be prepared to hear.

"I think... I think I wanted to die, I wanted an out on life" Your voice quivers as you admit the truth to the blonde, finally.

"W... What?" Leah looks at you with a mixture of shock and hurt.

"I'm so tired, Le-- I'm just so fuckin' tired. I... I can't do this anymore" You express your feelings as you feel yourself tearing up.

It was as if Leah hadn't quite regestered the words you had said, or she had but she refused to believe that you actually did want to try and kill yourself.

"The girls all went to get coffee, um I think that all of the girls will be back soon though" The blonde tells you quietly as she wraps her free arm around you and gives you a small smile.

Denial, it was so easy to pretend there wasn't anything to read into with your most recent confession.

"Leah--"

"I bet they'll be happy to know that you're awake now" Leah cut you off as she continues to give you that weary smile, you weren't sure if she was now clutching onto you a bit tighter in fear of you pulling another stunt like you did.

"Leah, didn't you hear me? I said I wanted to die!" You shout loud enough for her to suck in a sharp breath.

"I heard you, Y/N/N-- I heard you, I saw you, I... I was there for it all. I was the one who found you in the bathroom; You was lay in a pool of your own blood while you were slipping in and out of unconciousness" Leah broke her game of where she didn't pretend you as she turned to face you, you had her whole attention now. "I sat there, pressing a god-damn towel against your cuts, praying that you would make it and you... you tell me that you want to die? You don't get to die. You can't, we need you-- Damn it Y/N, I need you! Y... You're my family! So you don't get to tell me you want to die!" she tells you, the shake in her voice so evident that she's close to tears again.

"What? You... You want to die?" Beth broke the tense silence as she has a distraught look on her face.

"Do you really mean that?" Lia questions as her eyes widen in shock.

Neither you or Leah realise that some of the older girls had made their way back to your room, when they arrived they were delighted with the realisation that you were now finally awake after the long 24 hours but that quickly turned into shock and hurt when they heard Leah's words so boldly, that even the patients down the hall probably would've heard.

"I do, I did... I don't know. I'm tired, I can't... I can't keep doing this anymore" You admit out loud for every single one of them to hear.

You hear the blonde beside you suck in another sharp breath as she keeps her arm firmly attached round your shoulder.

The confession is left hanging in the air, leaving a tense feeling and it was suddenly so quiet that in the room that you were certain that you would even be able to hear a pin drop.

Nobody utters a word, a state of shock written across each one of their faces.

"Sometimes sleep isn't enough when it's my soul that's tired" You tell them, leaving them all stood there grief-stricken with the realisation that you really had been struggling for longer than you wanted to admit.

[aanoia]

Definitely (Dying, pt. 2)

Poly!marauders x reader, James Potter x reader, Remus Lupin x reader, Sirius Black x reader

Summary; a failed attempt and a year later, y/n is finally okay

Words; 1,800+

Warnings; srs tw, talk of drug abuse, suicide, self harm, I think that's all

Pt. 1, "Dying"

Really heavy topics, loves, please proceed with caution. I love you all!

It had been two months. The worst two months of their lives. The Marauders watched from afar as their now ex girlfriend killed herself, and said ex girlfriend had to watch as her lovers sat in each other's arms, basking in each other's presence. It was all too much. She couldn’t take it anymore. 

Today was a rare day where Y/n wasn’t on anything. Her system was clear and a bright smile was on her face. Almost everyone felt uncomfortable about the sudden change, wondering why she was suddenly… okay. Truth is she was the farthest from that that she’s ever been.

“Oh my gosh! Y/n, I love your necklace. Where did you get it?” Lily Evans, one of Y/n’s best friends, asked as Y/n sat down at the table. She sat as far away from the Marauders as she could, which proved difficult as Lily loved sitting next to them.

Y/n smiled and reached behind her head, swiftly unclasping the necklace and dangling it in front of Lily, “Here, have it.”

Lily shook her head, “Oh no, I couldn’t take it.”

“No, I swear it’s fine. It’s not really my style anyway. It’d look much better on you than me.” Y/n insisted and Lily hesitantly took the necklace. 

The thing is, that was Y/n’s favorite necklace. One her mom had given her when she was just a little girl, before she became a disappointment. The Marauders knew that. They shared uneasy looks, confused as to why she would so easily hand over her favorite possession, 

“Awh, that was sweet, Y/n.” Marlene said, admiring the golden necklace that now lay beautifully across Lily’s chest.

“Oh, here. You can have my bracelet. I always see you eyeing it.” She removed the bracelet and handed it to Marlene.

“Oh, thank you, Y/n. How kind.” She said with her brows furrowed.

“Of course.” Y/n responded with a smile.

It had been like that all day. She had given away everything that was complimented and constantly gave people hugs and told them she loved me. It was weird, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t only people close to her that noticed the unusualness either. It was classmates and teachers as well, even the paintings that lined the walls noticed a difference. It left an uneasy pit in everyone's stomach. 

That night, Remus sat at his desk with his hand holding up his head as he was deep in thought. 

James gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, “Moony? What’s going on in that head of yours?” James asked and Sirius perked up at the question, also wanting to know the answer.

Remus shook his head, “S’nothing.”

Sirius let out a short laugh, “You're full of shit. You’ve got that face. You only get that face when you’re thinking of something.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. He does have a thinking face.” James agreed and Sirius nodded.

“I know right, he goes like-” Sirius made an exaggerated facial expression.

“No, that looks nothing like him, dimwit. It’s like this-”  Remus tuned them out as they fought.

He went over every interaction Y/n had had that he witnessed throughout the day. She was acting so strange. Even before all the weed and drugs she never just gave away her possessions. She loved her things and held them close to her heart. So why was she giving it all away? And why was she suddenly showing so much affection? And why now? What changed? And why does Remus feel like he’s forgetting somethin-

Remus shot from his seat, “We need to find her. Now.” He said urgently before running out of the room, the boys paused before running after him, knowing exactly who “her” was. 

Remus hastily knocked on the door of Y/n’s dorm room, hoping she would open the door. Instead he was met with the sleepy face of Lily Evans and soft snores from Marlene who was cuddled up into Dorcas’ side. No Y/n.

“Remus?” She glanced behind him. “Sirius? James? What is it?”

“Is Y/n here?” He asked, dread filling his body.

Lily shook her head, “No, she said she was going up to the astronomy tower. Why?”

“I’ll tell you later, thank you.” He said before beginning to move again, but once they got down to the empty common room Sirius grabbed tightly onto his arm, stopping any movement. 

“Remus, what is going on? Why are you so worried?” Sirius asked.

“I think Y/n’s going to kill herself. The signs add up, giving away valuable possessions, being extra affectionate, and you know how her life is. We need to find her, now.” Sirius and James looked at each other before nodding. Sirius let go of Remus and all three sped to the astronomy tower, spending little to no time to think about not getting caught. Right now it was not a priority, their priority was Y/n.

They raced up the steps, not stopping as their lungs begged for air and legs ached for rest. Remus burst through the door and halted as his eyes lay on a silhouette standing at the edge of the tower, on the other side of the rails.

“Remus?” The figure asked, her voice hoarse and broken.

“Y/n, baby, please. Come here.” He begged as his boyfriends came in behind him.

“Y/n?” James asked tentatively. “Sweetheart, don’t do it.”

“Please, go away.” She asked, tears pouring from her eyes. They weren’t supposed to be here. “Please.” She whispered.

Sirius was the only one brave enough to step closer, “No. We let you leave once already, I won’t let you again.” He took another step.

“No, get away from me!” She cried, her sweaty hands slipping against the cool metal.

“Love.” Sirius said quietly, close enough to whisper to her. “It’s going to be okay, yeah?” She began to protest but he shook his head, shushing her while taking yet another step forward. “No, I know how hard that is to believe. But it will. And I- we- we will be there every step of the way. Come on, love, grab onto my hand.” He said quietly while stretching his hand out.

“I can’t do it anymore, Siri.” She whispered, her legs shaking.

“Yes you can.” He assured her immediately. “You can, I know of it. You are the strongest girl I’ve met. I know you can stay here. With me. And Remus. And James. I know you can.”

“But the weed and-and the alcohol, even if I don’t know, I’ll kill myself!” 

“Then we’ll work together to get sober. Y/n, my love, it’s not impossible for you to be happy. I need you to realize that. You can be happy, and you are worthy of being happy. Now hold my hand, please.” He asked again, tears stinging his eyes. She hesitantly grabbed his hand and let him help her over the rails.

The moment her feet touched the ground of the astronomy tower she collapsed in tears and the three immediately engulfed her in a warm hug. She sobbed in their arms for what felt like hours, but the boys didn’t care. She needed love, and they were going to give it to her. 

Once her cries quieted to small sniffles Remus pulled away and gently placed his hand on her tear stained cheek, wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb.

“Hey, baby.” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Whatever for?” 

“Being such a bitch to you guys and pushing you.” She said, her eyes cast downward as guilt filled her body.

“It’s alright, my love. We’ve already forgiven you.” Sirius responded, the boys nodding along with him. 

“We just want you to be okay.” James said, his arms wrapped loosely around her neck as he placed a soft kiss on her temple.

Y/n nodded slowly, “I wanna be okay too.”

“You will be okay.”

A year later, Y/n smiled at Lily as she sat down at the table in the morning. 

“Good morning, Lily, how did you sleep?”

Lily snorted, “I would’ve slept better if a few girls in my dorm didn’t stop gossiping all night.”

Y/n and Marlene looked at each other with smirks.

“Oh, how rude of them.” Marlene said.

“Truly a tragedy.” Y/n agreed, grabbing a piece of toast. “Does anyone know where my boyfriends are?” She asked, looking around the table.

“Probably doing something dumb.” Dorcas said and Y/n nodded.

“I believe it.” 

The doors to Great Hall opened and in walked Sirius Black. He walked to the Gryffindor table and stood behind his girlfriend, leaning down.

“We need you outside, please, Ms. L/n.” He said, sending shivers down the girl's spine.

“Oh, really?” She asked.

He kissed her cheek, “Yes, ma’am. Shall I escort you?” He asked, standing straight and holding out his hand.

She grabbed his hand, “You shall.” She stood up and let out a small yelp as Sirius quickly tugged her along. Y/n laughed as they sped down the hallway, making Sirius smile. Her laugh truly was music to his ears.

The left the castle and Sirius brought her to a little picnic blanket which her other two boyfriends were lounging on while conversating.

“Ah, look at our girl.” James said as he noticed them approaching.

“Guys, what is this?” Y/n asked with wide eyes as Sirius pushed her down gently, urging her to sit.

“Well, I do believe it’s a picnic.” Remus answered with a grin.

Y/n rolled her eyes, “No, I mean what’s it for?”

“Ah, great question. Today marks one year of you being sober, and we wanted to show you how proud of you we are.” Sirius explained and Y/n smiled.

“Guys, thank you. I love you all so much.”

“We love you too.” James responded.

“Oh! Hagrid made a cake. We didn’t ask him too, but he handed it to us and told us to make sure it got to you.” Remus said, handing Y/n a box.

Y/n smiled as she read what was on the cake. 

‘PROWD OF YOU, Y/N!’

“Awh, Hagrid is so sweet.” Y/n said with a large smile.

“We’re proud of you too, by the way.” James said, putting his head on her lap.

Sirius grabbed Y/n’s hand, “I told you you were the strongest girl I knew.”

Pride swelled in Y/n’s chest. She had come so far in just a year. She had walked through hell and came back alive, barely, but still alive. She had cut off contact from her parents, much to their dismay as now their scapegoat had left, however they didn’t put in the effort to keep her around. During the summer before seventh year she stayed in the spare bedroom at the Potter house, going under strict rules of doors open at all times if she and James were together, or any of them if the other two came over. Y/n was more than okay, she was happy. She healed. Was it hard? Maybe. Was it worth it? 

Definitely.

Tag list;

@duruxoxo @mars-marley @siriuslydestiny @gagafatale @lestat-whore @1hornyforfictionalmen1 @megluv1 @takem3tothelakes @fictionalmensblog @ssaspencerreidswife

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

"Izzy Canyon dwellers just want to turn him into an innocent victim who did nothing wrong!"

Actually my problem is that, in hindsight, Izzy didn't do enough wrong to justify the common interpretation of his relationship with Ed. In my book, the first time in the series he legitimately crossed over to villainous antagonist territory - someone you actually loved to hate for it even if you understood his reasons - was when he set the British Navy on the Revenge. That way he not only betrayed his integrity as a pirate by consorting with the common enemy of all pirates, but risked Ed's life too - cause, like, come on, that "plan" to send CJ to convince Ed to leave Stede was so far-fetched it barely counts as a plan. I don't buy Izzy ever looking at CJ and going "yep that seems like a smart, responsible, trustworthy man I could rely on for a delicate mind games operation like this". It was an act of sheer desperation on Izzy's part, but he still chose to do it. IMO this was actually worse than what he said to Ed in S1 finale. Although of course that was very nasty, too.

But the thing is, we don't actually have any info on what their relationship used to be like before S1. We were only ever shown, not told - and both times from Izzy's perspective: the first time in S01E04 during his resignation rant, which was very heartfelt and I'm sure a lot of it was true, but it's still one-sided, and the second time during his deathbed speech, which was, again, one-sided and this time biased in another direction - instead of airing his pent-up grievanced Izzy was putting most of the blame on himself.

Other than this, the entirety of Ed and Izzy's pre-S1 relationship gets extrapolated from one single episode, S01E04. The narrative itself seems to want us to see it as a microcosm of their usual long-standing dynamic, at least on the surface. We see Ed being depressed and suicidal, trying to open up to Izzy about it, and Izzy shutting him down and making him act like Blackbeard again. Since it's already clear that Ed and Stede are the main characters, we're primed to see Ed as the victim here and Izzy being an annoying, insensitive nag.

Except the context of those interactions changes everything. The context being that they are literally about to be attacked by the Spanish - something Ed knowingly brought on them with his decisive power as captain - and Ed is deliberately withholding crucial information from his own first mate and the rest of the crew, making them all think they're going to die and he isn't doing anything about it. Izzy wasn't just being a boring buzzkill not being excited for Ed when he showed him that ship model. He was actively panicking and trying to do his job asking Ed for orders so they don't all get slaughtered.

So, yeah, those are some very exceptional circumstances that don't say anything about their typical day to day interactions go when they're not in immediate mortal peril due to lack of communication. Was this the first time Ed ever told him about not wanting to be Blackbeard anymore? Izzy didn't seem very surprised, so probably not, but we don't know, and if Ed had confided in him before, we don't know how Izzy reacted - but I'd like to point out that this time he didn't ridicule Ed in any way, he simply pointed out that they were about to die if Ed didn't do anything. Does Izzy usually indulge Ed in the stuff he finds fun when they're not about to be killed? Again, we don't know, but Izzy's playfulness during that first confrontation with Stede in S01E02, and his whittling and jokes in S2 showed that he wasn't always as grouchy and joyless as he's made out to be. We actually saw him smile when Ed got excited about Buttons, too. Pretty sure if Izzy always shut him down about things like that, Ed would have stopped trying to share it with him long ago.

And, finally, there's one piece of this puzzle that doesn't seem to fit in with the rest at all. The show both told us and implied that Izzy couldn't let Blackbeard go because his own identity was too tied up in it, and because he idolised the glory of violent pirate lifestyle. But if that's the case, then why did he have no problem with Ed wanting to retire? Izzy literally gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up on the whole "kill Stede and steal his identity so he could live the rest of his life as a rich aristocrat" plan. If Izzy only admired Ed as a pirate, and was so hell-bent on keeping the Blackbeard persona alive, why was he ok with Ed retiring? How does this square up with the idea that Izzy had been keeping Ed chained to piracy?

I'd honestly hoped we would get some flashbacks of the two of them in S2, and then S3 before that hope died too, because there's still so much we're missing.

[sundewhasaudhd]

Fuck it, I know I said I wouldn’t post things about my AU’s out of order, but it’s my blog, and do want I fucking want

Sad TNT duo scene (tw: knives, suicide)

(PS, this thing’s pretty long, so you might wanna go grab some potatocorn or something):

W: *Looking down sadly at his reflection in his knife*

Q: *Practically slams open this man’s fucking door like he isn’t breaking and entering* Jesus fucking Christ Wilbur, where the fuck have you been?! I…people were really starting to worry about you.

W: (to himself) You, you cared?

Q: What?

W: Nothing. Why are you here?

Q: Did you not hear me dipshit, looking for you. I hadn’t seen you in a few days, I was starting to get concerned.

W: That feels a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

Q: Not when you’re at my border bugging me everyday, no

W: …

Q: You ok?

W: Yeah, yeah, I’m fine

Q: You sure? There were a lot of pauses in that four word sentence. Y’know if you have something you want to say to me you can say it

W: Yeah, since when has that been true?

Q: Excuse me 

W: Never mind, that’s not important right now

Q: Feels pretty damn important, but ok, sure

W: *takes a deep breathe* Quackity, kill me

Q: W-w-w

W: It’s perfect, I won’t be able to hurt you or anyone else, and you won’t have to put up with me anymore 

Q: Wilbur if this is your idea of “a joke” it’s not very funny

W: What about me asking you to kill me sounds like a joke to you? It’s not that hard if that’s what you’re concerned about. There are a bunch of knives in here, just take your pick. There are some over there, I think I have one near my bed, plus I’m sure you plenty weapons in your room. *Wilbur’s voice starts fading out* And you don’t have to make it painless if you don’t want to… *his voice is completely drowned out by either ringing or static, I haven’t fully decided yet*

Q: N-no you said you wouldn’t leave me! Th-that you’d be here for me! You promised you wouldn’t leave me again! You promised!

W: That’s what I do Quackity. I lie. I lie and I hurt and that’s all I’ll ever be good for. I can’t change that, no one can, which is why it’d be better for everyone if you just killed me

Q: I- no I’m not gonna kill you Wilbur!

W: Quackity, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me a single reason why I still deserve to live, why I should still be here tomorrow

Q: I-

W: You can’t. I know you can’t. And that’s okay. That’s great even! That’s you realizing how badly I’ve hurt you, and that you shouldn’t want me around *placing his knife in Quackity’s hand, which his dumbass doesn’t notice, because Wilbur’s touching his face and he’s gay* I don’t deserve to live Quackity. *starts moving Quackity’s hands (the knife) towards his chest* You should know that more then anyone. The only thing I’ve ever given you is pain, especially when you’re already hurting. You’re just doing yourself a disservice by letting me live.

W: Y’know, I really will miss you. You’re my favorite person, and I love spending every second I can with you. But that’s really selfish of me. At least you won’t miss have to miss me. Hell, anyone with half a brain cell won’t miss me

Q: What the fuck are you on about, of course I’d miss you if you died!

W: No, you won’t. I mean, come on, why would you. You hate me, remember

Q: I don’t h- *sees the knife in his hands, and then immediately drops it* Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?!

W: EVERYTHING!!! Every single decision I’ve ever made was at the expense of someone else! I’m trying to do the only good thing I can with my pathetic existence by ending it, which YOU don’t seem to understand! 

Q: Because that’s stupid! Yeah, you’ve hurt people, so what? We’ve all hurt someone else at some point!

W: CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DO SOMETHING USEFUL FOR ONCE IN YOUR FUCKING LIFE!

Q: …

W: I’m- this is exactly what I’m talking about. This is all I do. So, just pick up the knife, and put an end to my pathetic existence

Q: No! I won’t kill you Wilbur

W: Why are you being so stubborn about this?

Q: Because I love you, ok! I love you a lot. You’re the only constant in my life, and I really don’t wanna think about what would happen if you weren’t here. You’re my everything. And I *shaky sigh* I just can’t lose you again

W: …

Q: Fuck, just forget I said anything. I’ll just leave and pray that your not dead tomorrow mornin-

W: *hugs in gay* I love you too 

Q: *starts crying while hugging Wilbur tighter*

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment VII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 4.2K (she’s kind of long)

Part VI | Masterlist | Part VIII

When you arrived back in 12 you really thought your life was about to get a whole lot easier. Revolution or not, you were no longer a mentor so you wouldn’t be dragged out to the Capitol for a show every year. And after a couple years no one would remember you anymore.

As you and Haymitch returned home, you hesitated to say it, scared there was something you were missing. “Haymitch, are we done?”

“What?” he asked, very confused and a little scared.

“Are we done with all the Capitol shit? We’re not the mentors anymore. I’m just scared there’s something I’m not thinking of and we’re still in the game.”

He pondered for a second. “I think we’re out of the Capitol spotlight,” he answered with a smile. Hope and relief flooded into your chest as you jumped into one another’s embrace. You were both smiling and laughing like never before until it finally died down. “I think Katniss will need our help from time to time and we’ll probably be expected at the reapings but yeah, I think we’re done.”

You two had your own private celebration that night since it would be cruel to rub it in Katniss and Peeta’s faces. You just hoped they could churn out two victors quickly (separate years of course) so they could get out of the spotlight and the Capitol would lose interest in them once they settled into their fabricated domestic life.

~

Your celebrations for a better life seemed to come too quickly because the next day trucks full of peacekeepers were rolling in. You were just sitting in the living room, reading when you saw smoke coming from the center of town. Normally smoke wasn’t an alarming sight in the coal mining district but you could also see people running around frantically. You quickly jumped off the couch, rushing to put your boots on, not even bothering to put a coat on.

You ran outside, finding Prim, observing the chaos. “Prim, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she shouted back to you.

“Go inside, get your mom,” you shouted as you ran towards the center of town.

You reached the Hob, or what was the Hob, finding several peacekeepers, more than ever, burning everything to a crisp. You spotted a young girl, maybe 15, cornered by a peacekeeper, shooting fire at her feet, torturing the girl. You had no doubt he was laughing under his mask.

You approached from the side, the man not even noticing you until you grabbed her hand. “Go, sweetie,” you told the girl. She didn’t need to be told twice as she bolted away as the man was distracted. He ripped his mask off angrily, preparing to yell at you but you watched as realization dawned over his face. “Hurt me if you want, I’m sure Snow would love to hear how you burnt one of his most lucrative victors,” you taunted.

Seeing that burning you wasn’t worth it he pursed his lips angrily before taking the torch to hit you with. It hit your hip, knocking you to the side a little but he seemed satisfied getting a hit in so he went back to burning objects. Not wanting to push your luck, you ran off, heading toward the town square. There you were horrified to see Gale tied to a whipping post, Katniss stood in front of his with a gash on her face, Peeta in front of her, and Haymitch in front of him, talking to a peacekeeper with a gun pointed at him. “…you already marked up her face on the eve of the big wedding,” you heard Haymitch explain as you ran over.

“Move,” the man pointed his gun at you now.

“Man, you really don’t get it. You don’t recognize her either? Y/N L/N? You really think President Snow wants four dead victors?”

The guy looked pissed but relented. “Clear the square!” he suddenly yelled in the scariest voice you’ve ever heard from a human being. “If anyone is spotted out after dark, they will be shot on sight!” The man gave you all a glare, spitting in the dirt before going with some other peacekeepers.

“We have to move him,” Katniss cried as she undid Gale’s cuffs. Haymitch and Peeta both hoisted Gale’s arms over their shoulders. They carried him all the way to Katniss’ house where her mom and sister were preparing for him.

It was a frenzy of Katniss, Prim, and their mom trying to help Gale while you, Haymitch and Peeta just stood to the side. As things calmed down and Gale settled in for what no doubt would be a long, painful night, you and Haymitch headed home.

“So this is Snow’s attempt to suppress the Districts,” you observed, stepping inside. “Crackdown on black markets and insubordination.”

“I guess,” Haymitch sighed, turning on the television. It immediately showed scenes of the lower districts where trucks of peacekeepers were rolling in and terrorizing citizens. “It’s propaganda.”

“Shove it in their faces that any act of defiance will be shot down immediately,” you scoffed. “God I hate him.”

“I know, c’mon, let’s go to bed,” Haymitch said, gently placing a hand on your hip. You flinched when he touched the no doubt forming bruise from that peacekeeper earlier. Haymitch pulled back, afraid that he hurt you. “What?”

“Nothing, just a peacekeeper got mad before I found you,” you explained. “He had this girl backed into a corner, using his flamethrower to torch the ground under her feet like a fucking psycho. I made him stop and he got mad and hit my with it. No big deal,” you dismissed.

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine, seriously. Nothing I can’t handle and nothing worth getting whipped or executed for,” you asserted. “Now can we please just go to bed?” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Sure,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around your waist with a kiss to the forehead.

~

A couple days passed as Gale healed. There were a few more whippings in 12 but no executions like in some of the other districts where there were riots. The peacekeepers really had locked down 12, Katniss wasn’t able to go out to the woods and you could tell it was getting to her. As for you and Haymitch your home had become a sanctuary. You two finally felt like you could be safe. For the first time since either of your reapings you felt somewhat safe.

All of that came crashing down as you sat down to watch the Quarter Quell announcement. You thought that this must be weird for Haymitch since he won the 50th games and the second Quarter Quell. In some ways you realized that your husband may be the deadliest victor since he won against twice as many tributes.

The screen turned on, revealing Snow on his little speech balcony. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the annual hunger games. It was written in the charter of the games that every 25 years there would be a quarter quell to keep fresh, for each new generation, the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. and now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion we celebrate the third Quarter Quell,” Snow pulled out a card for the first time, “as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol. On this the third Quarter Quell the amount of tributes will double. Two male and two female tributes from each district-”

“They did that already,” Haymitch murmured.

“-and they will be reaped from the existing pool of victors.” Your heart sunk in your chest and you let out a dry sob. No, this couldn’t be happening. You just became safe. “All victors from all districts will be eligible for the reaping, no matter the number of victors from a district, nor their age or disability.”

Haymitch angrily threw his glass through the holographic screen, hitting Snow in the face.

You felt the tears slipping down your face as Haymitch threw your glass. Noticing your tears he held you tightly. “Nothing’s gonna gonna happen to you, okay?” He pulled back to look you in the eye, brushing your hair away. “You’re gonna make it out. I’m gonna protect you.”

“No,” you cried. “Katniss has to make it out. She’s the Mockingjay. If we want this to be the last game she has to make it out.”

“But-”

It was your turn to comfort him as tears began to slip down his cheeks. “Haymitch I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you. If you don’t come out of that arena, neither will I.” He sighed quietly, looking down at the ground. “Haymitch…” he looked back up at you, “we’re gonna die aren’t we?” It was a sobering thought to both of you. Neither of you were strangers to the thought of dying but now that you had been happy about two minutes ago, it was a tragic thought.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” you shouted to who you had no doubt was Peeta.

You were proven right when Peeta walked through the door. It wasn’t typical of him to skip pleasantries but then again this was in no way a pleasant situation so he just jumped right in. “Look, I know this isn’t fair to ask but Katniss needs to come out of that arena.”

He went to continue his ramblings until you stopped him. “Peeta, we already agreed neither of us are coming out,” you gestured to your husband. “We can’t guarantee Katniss’ survival but she has two less competitors.” You knew you couldn’t tell Peeta about the rebellion, he was too close to all of this.

Peeta looked broken but grateful. “Thank you,” he cried.

“Why don’t you go be with your family?” Haymitch suggested gently. Peeta agreed, once again professing his thanks before leaving. “This may be a part of Plutarch’s plan,” he suddenly suggested.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s the head gamemaker. Right now he’s Snow’s closest advisor. I’m sure his plan is to get Katniss out. Like ours.”

“Snow will never let Katniss get to top five… much less be the victor,” you pieced together.

“Y/N, we might have a shot at surviving,” Haymitch said as it dawned on him. You both were excited that you may get to actually see the rebellion after a few very sobering moments. “Let’s not get our hopes up though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed.

Suddenly Katniss burst in. She immediately grabbed a bottle of whisky off your bar cart. “I’m here to drink,” she explained.

“Well that’s the only thing I can actually help you with,” Haymitch said, grabbing more glasses as Katniss slumped onto a chair.

“Peeta gets out,” she ordered. In contrast to Peeta’s begging.

“Peeta was just in here begging for your life,” you replied, taking the glass Haymitch handed you.

“I don’t care. He deserves to get out.”

“You could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve that boy,” Haymitch said from beside you.

“I know,” she agreed.

“We’ve already decided we’re not coming out,” you informed her. “We can’t guarantee anything but he has two less competitors.”

“Thank you,” she said stoically. She took another swig of the bottle. “Why couldn’t it have been you two? You actually love each other. You could convince the districts,” she sighed, “and Snow,” she added.

“Just not how we had to play our games,” you shrugged.

You three all drank for a little while until Peeta came back in. “What are you doing?” he asked, startled by the scene. You were laying on the floor, giggling, while Haymitch and Katniss were slumped in their seats, also laughing.

“Accepting our impending dooms,” Haymitch laughed, holding up his thrice refilled glass as if toasting.

“No, you’re not. We have to train and get ready if any of us want any shot,” he insisted.

“Haymitch and I don’t have one,” you giggled.

Peeta shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Forget it we’ll talk tomorrow when at least you two,” he pointed to you and Katniss, “are sober.”

“Wait you don’t wanna drink with us?” Katniss whined.

“No,” he answered bluntly before leaving.

~

The next morning Peeta had the three of you sat in his living room. Both you and Katniss were hungover. Haymitch started drinking to deal with his hangover. “Look we have to start training. We have a week until the reaping. These other victors, especially the careers, have probably continued to train, or trained other tributes, ever since they won. And we’re seriously behind,” Peeta said, taking Haymitch’s mug of coffee mixed with gin.

“Hey!” he protested.

“You have to get sober,” Peeta said. “There won’t be flasks in the arena.”

Eventually Peeta got all of you outside, starting with jogging around Victors Village. You and Katniss took it pretty easily. Peeta struggled a little with his prosthetic leg but fortunately since it was Capitol made it reacted with the rest of his body. Meanwhile Haymitch was struggling. He was stumbling over all the uneven ground and he didn’t exactly have the same stamina he had 25 years ago. You stopped several times to try to help him along but he always brushed you off.

Next you moved onto strength. By now Haymitch’s sobriety was starting to creep in. You knew Haymitch was strong but withdraw was making him physically shake. As for you and Katniss, you were struggling in the strength department. A childhood of malnourishment could never be fixed. As the four of you continued on, Haymitch got worse. He and Peeta were doing pushups when your husband suddenly collapsed. You went over to help him up but he just staggered off into the house. You gave Katniss and Peeta a quizzical look before following him.

You found him in the bathroom, puking his guts out. Letting out a sympathetic sigh you kneeled down next to him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back. “It’s okay, get it all out. Sobriety is hard after 25 years,” you tried to laugh. But the smell was becoming so much you were struggling to not vomit as well.

After a few more minutes Haymitch was done and it was your turn. “Thanks, sweet-” but you interrupted him by also vomiting in the toilet. He held your hair and rubbed your back just as you had done to him while whispering comforts.

When you were done you sat up, finding a comfortable place in between Haymitch’s legs, your back against his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Sorry, I think it was the smell,” you explained.

“Sorry my vomit made you vomit,” Haymitch laughed. You could feel the laughter in his chest, bouncing you the slightest bit.

After a few minutes you shakily stood up. “I’ll get some water. You should lay down, rest.”

“I’m not that tired,” he dismissed.

“Well if we want any hope of you being a functioning sober in the arena you need to rest. Besides, I’m exhausted.” It’s true you were incredibly exhausted. Probably just from the hangover though.

Haymitch complied, heading to the bedroom while you went to get glasses of water. As you returned with the ice water, Haymitch was laid in bed, waiting for you. You handed him his drink before slipping into his embrace. “You really think Plutarch has a plan?” you asked.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t think he’d send us all into the games with no plans to get most of us out. We’ll know more once we get there. But I’m not gonna let anything happen to you before we’re ready,” your husband promised.

“Same to you,” you said, intertwining your fingers with his. You brought you hands up to your lips, pressing your lips to his knuckles.

~

Haymitch got better over the next week. He no longer shook unless he really had pushed his limits. You, however, got worse and you were suspecting that it was more than being sick because Haymitch was. You realized that you had missed your period but you had chalked it up to everything that was happening in the past month. You spent nearly every night and morning hunched over the toilet or trashcan. You had dismissed it to Haymitch as nerves but you could tell he was getting suspicious as well. You were about 90% sure you were pregnant but you could get that confirmed in the Capitol. As for the paternity, you hoped to whatever deity was out there that your timeline was right and it could only be Haymitch’s. Having some Capitol bastard’s baby would be Snow’s ultimate punishment to you.

But you didn’t want to say anything if you were wrong. You were also terrified of Haymitch’s reaction. Would he be excited? Angry? Devastated? Those reactions also dependent on whether or not Plutarch planned to try to keep you alive. There were so many questions racing through your head as you were marched towards the stage for the reaping. It was honestly just cruel for everyone as the two names in each bowl taunted you.

“Welcome to the 75th annual Hunger Games,” Effie said in a pained voice. You could see genuine pain in her expression as she made it as short as possible. “As always, ladies first.” She grabbed a slip and approached the microphone. “For the first female tribute from District 12…” you didn’t know why you were holding your breath. You’d be picked no matter what. “Katniss Everdeen.” A single tear rolled down her cheek “And the first male tribute from District 12… Haymitch Abernathy.” When she finally called your name it felt like you had had an ice bucket dumped over your head. Again, you didn’t know why, it’s not like this was your first reaping where you had been plucked from the bowl by chance. This was a calculated move by Snow this time.

You didn’t bother to listen to the rest of Effie’s speech and you were quickly ushered onto the train. Everything happened in a blur, you were too focused on being tested in the Capitol. But you managed to sober yourself up enough to discuss who you’d be competing with. Fortunately the trains had access to all the reapings and past games so you and Haymitch shared highlights and stories about the biggest names in this year’s games.

“Cashmere and Gloss: siblings won back to back games, the pride of their district. Gloss will be our biggest threat, he won as any career tribute does. At least in the beginning we should be fairly safe from Cashmere. Avoid sleeping with her and you’ll be in the clear. The other two from District 1 are pretty straightforward.”

“Enobaria from 2 is extremely deadly. She excels in hand to hand combat and did anything to win her games. The male tribute from two had her pinned and it looked like he’d win when she ripped out his throat with her teeth. She has since had them filed into fangs. I guess to rip out more throats in two? Whatever. Avoid confrontation with her.”

“Wiress and Beetee from 3 are both brilliant. He won his games by electrocuting just about every other tribute in the arena. Let the last couple kill each other. He’s also beloved by the Capitol because he basically makes all their cool stuff for them.”

“Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, and Mags Flanagan. I don’t know much about the fourth. Finnick Odair is the darlin of the Capitol, people love him. He won his games at 14, youngest ever. He is also very skilled in combat. Weaknesses include Mags and Annie. Mags will not be much of a threat tragically, she truly is a very sweet lady. As for Annie, I’m confident that Finnick will die for her. She sort of won her games by default when everyone else drowned at the end and she went a little nuts after.”

“Nothing really special about District 5, they all won at least 10 years ago, the oldest won 35 years ago. Not threats.”

“District 6 only has three tributes, the Morphling triplets. They all won their games by hiding until everyone else was dead. They’ve all been avid morphling users ever since.”

“In District 7 you have Johanna Mason. She won four years ago and won almost exactly like my wife here did. Extremely angry and violent. The other three? Treat them like careers, best skilled in hand to hand combat with axes.”

“District 8, none are really threats. Woof, here, is really old. Has gone kind of senile so maybe avoid him in the training area. May stab you with a sewing needle before you even get to the arena.”

“District 9 only has one tribute. Also not a threat.”

“District 10, just treat them like careers. They’ve been slitting cattle’s throats since they could walk so avoid close combat with them.”

“District 11 aren’t threats. Chaff is missing his left hand so do with that information what you will. Any questions?”

“What about your games?” Katniss asked.

“Katniss we’re not threats to you,” you sighed. “We already agreed we’re not coming out.”

“I just wanna know,” she insisted, not backing down.

“Fine,” Haymitch relented. “I won the 50th Hunger Games where there were 48 tributes. Like this one is supposed to be. My arena was honestly beautiful but toxic. Everything was poisoned. The bloodbath was… insane. Three-fourths of the tributes died at the cornucopia. Partially because several of them were late to the buzzer because they were so distracted by the meadow we were in. Basically the same thing happened in every game. The careers hunted everyone down. I had allied myself with one of the girls from my district, Maysilee Donner.” You knew that talking about Maysilee was hard for Haymitch. She truly had become his friend in that arena. “We protected each other until around the end when we decided to split up so we wouldn’t have to kill each other. I heard her screaming a couple hours after we split. Some guys from 2 had attacked her. I had managed to kill both but she died in my arms.” Your husband took a shaky breath before continuing. “Not even a day later it was me versus the girl from one. I had discovered the edge of the arena before, it was a cliff and I had figured out that whatever hit it would return to where it came from. So when it came down to her and I, she had managed to wound me with her axe, slicing my stomach. I ran for a mile, bleeding, to the edge of the arena. She threw her axe which missed. She didn’t realize that it was coming back until the blade hit her head and I was crowned Victor. And because I won the way I did, Snow had my family killed,” Haymitch finished bitterly. You placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. You knew this was a lot for him. He had been drunk for the last 25 years hiding from his games. Now here he was, sober for the first time and reliving that experience.

Peeta didn’t seem to know how to react but Katniss pushed through the tension, asking you about your games.

“It was set in a canyon. It was so dry but there was a single stream that ran through the middle. It looked really thin, like it’d dry up in only a couple days from above ground but I managed to find a way underground where there was more water. The cornucopia was set in one of the widest spots of the canyon where even then it was a fairly tight squeeze between the walls. if you didn’t figure out how to climb you were pretty much screwed because it was like being stuck in a hallway with the careers. They did what they always did. Group up and hunt everyone down. It was fairly easy for them to do it because a lot of the kids were either too heavy or too weak, a very fine line, to climb up the walls. I basically hid up above or down below everyone, attacking them when I could. As I told you the first day I found a girl who had managed to grab a pack and stole her supplies. I quietly and slowly picked off every career until I slit the boy from 1’s throat and won.” You explained your story stoically but inside you were crumbling, something you had done ever since you won. Everyone thought you were so okay with killing when you won but truthfully, you weren’t. You didn’t think any Victor was no matter what it seemed like.

Part VI | Masterlist | Part VIII

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu Season 3, Episodes 7-13

Episode 7 - Pinball Hazard

Of course you would say that, Ruel.

Are those Nora's........

Anyway.

Fun fact: these are Kerubim's cards from rehab.

I have no idea what Ush is doing with them, but it is funny that he has them.

Episode 8 - Arpagone

Even though I have rewatched s3 multiple times (sadly), I am still not sure if Ankama means for us to go away from it thinking that Ruel is an enutrof demigod.

If I am not insane, and it is what we are meant to understand, then all I can say is: instead of retconning things, they should have added some cool new demigod, or brought in an old one. This sucks.

They shuoild add Meriana in Wakfu. Though not as a brotherhood member, she would never join their cult.

HIIII SIMONE. Once again, I am not sure if this is Ankama saying that Ruel is older than 600 years old and all of his "omg dofus era was so long ago... haha" was a strategic gaslight to keep people from knowing (AND that his grandmother is ALSO older than 600 years old)

Or if Ankama just has no regard or respect for Dofus Aux Tresors de Kerubim and people who watch their shows, and decided "we hate one of the literal main characters of that show so much that we will use her as a background character design" as early as s3, actually.

More weirdass asset reusages have hit the pentagon. Yeah, I'm pretty sure Ankama just unironically hates Dofus fans or expects nobody to care about that show or Simone as a character.

Like... what does this mean. Does this mean that he's older than 600 years? Does this mean he's a demigod, BUT he's a normal mortal age? One of leaked studio timelines says he's approximately 200 years old, but so is YUGO'S DAD, WHO IS MORTAL. Is THAT canon? Ankama can you actually settle on a singular thing here?

I think I hate enutrof lore now 🤪

Episode 9 - The Sadida Temple

#kin #me #same #female manipulator #literally me #coquette

Episode 10 - When the Walls Fall Down

This episode is so cringe it makes me suicidal.

Ok fine, Pinpin being happy IS cute. I'll give you that, Tot.

Episode 11 - Oropo

When Ankama Misogyny Olympics happen and Julith, Aurora, Lou, Jiva, Eva, Simone, and Bakara show up to compete — they all just start crying the second Kali comes near them, because they KNOW they'll lose.

I need this season to be over asap, I can't take this anymore. Adamai, Amalia... I'm so, so sorry that the writers have lobotomized you.

Episode 13 - Inglorium

Ok I unironically cried. I hate this series for making me cry because of season 3.

[suzukiblu]

Jason Todd for the fic bits?

Jason wants to fuck up every single thing about Gotham, which would be a lot easier if he weren't halfway into heat right now. Which–of fucking course he'd finally have his first fucking heat when he's meant to be starting a fucking gang war.

Like, of course that's his life.

Or death.

He'd really just assumed getting dunked in the pit or being dead or whatever other bullshit had just rotted out his reproductive organs. It's years too damn late for him to start having heats, for fuck’s sake. Hell, he was a late bloomer even before he died.

But he is, absolutely and undeniably, going into heat right now.

So . . . that's a problem, definitely.

Admittedly, said problem could've popped up when Ra's al Ghul was the nearest available alpha, so maybe he should just be fucking grateful to have dodged that particular nightmare-bullet and push his plans back a week.

Just–a clinic. He'll find a clinic. He'll find a clinic and lie about his name and check himself in and pretend this isn't his first fucking heat and he's not a useless virgin who barely even knows what to do for it and it doesn't matter that he doesn't have a pack to spend it with. Doesn't matter that Bruce won't be rumbling soothingly at him through things or that Alfred won't be making sure he stays fed and hydrated, that no one is going to be touching or holding him, that he won't–that no one's going to–

Jason thinks, with mortification and shame and absolute fury, about what he'd used to hope his first heat might be like, before he got beaten to death and burned back to life. He thinks about how badly he'd wanted it to be like that.

Before the ridiculous and semi-suicidal night that Jason had decided to jack the Batmobile's tires, he'd always known just how shitty his first heat was going to be. Back then he'd just figured he'd be lucky if nobody tried to sell it without his permission.

When he'd thought he'd had a real <i>pack</i>, though . . . when he'd thought that he'd really belonged to that pack . . .

He'd thought Bruce would be there to soothe him through it. He'd thought Alfred would be there to keep him comfortable.

He'd thought maybe, maybe Dick wouldn't be too mad at Bruce to be in Gotham that week, and might . . . and might . . .

Jason's gut burns, and he stops letting himself remember what he'd thought then. What he'd . . .

What he'd wanted, then.

Doesn't matter, he tells himself, quick and harsh and brutal. Doesn't matter. Never mattered. They didn't even really want him, in the end. Don't even care that he's gone anymore, if they ever did at all.

They replaced him.

They replaced him, and they didn't even kill the bastard who took him from them first.

Jason wants to die all over again, thinking about that.

Jason wants to cry, thinking about that.

And he wants his pack alpha to come and make it all better, like he's fucking new or stupid or something. Like he hasn't known better than that since he was old enough for cognizant goddamn thought. Willis never made a damn thing better. And Bruce tricked him into thinking that he would, for a while, but . . .

Well, Jason learned that lesson, didn't he.

Robin learned that lesson.

Jason died with the Joker's scent all over him. Died all marked up with it. Died smelling like he belonged to him.

Couldn't even smell Bruce anymore, past that awful scent. Not even enough to die to.

And just–yeah, well, the less said about Ra's and the League, the better.

So.

Clinic. He needs a clinic. He's too emotional, he's too vulnerable, he's not safe, he's . . . he . . .

He doesn't even know where the fuck he is, actually.

Fuck.

Jason tries to orient himself. He knows Gotham like the back of his hand, even now. Even like this. He knows Gotham like the back of his hand, and he's . . . and he's . . .

And he's lost.

That's so funny that he might actually cry.

Right. Okay. Situation: lost. Lost in fucking Gotham, somehow. No gear. Minimal weapons. Not even any fucking body armor or a damn domino mask. Gun under his jacket. Knife strapped to his calf. Picks in his belt.

Nothing else.

He is absolutely going to die. Or get goddamn assaulted in some random fucking filthy alley. Or both.

Probably both, yeah.

Is he even wearing his damn scent blockers right now . . . ?

Jason checks, and is distantly relieved to feel the necessary patches under his fingers, all neatly covering the scent glands in his wrists and throat. Okay, yeah. Not that stupid yet. Still in a bad situation, what with the whole "being halfway into heat on a public street after dark while lost in a shitty neighborhood in fucking Gotham", but just–again, this could be happening with Ra's al Ghul as his alpha, so right now he's just gonna take what little mercy he can get.

Ra's might've bred him, if he'd gone into heat around him.

Ra's would definitely have bred him, actually. That sounds like exactly the kind of fucked-up power trip that bastard would get off on.

Shit, it'd been bad enough the way he'd treated and touched him as it was. Jason still can't believe Ra's never did anything worse than feel him up a few too many places a few too many times. Like, he actually is still technically a virgin, he's pretty sure.

Even if only technically.

So yeah. Jason is very, very grateful for whatever bizarre and random thing made his body wait this long to heat up for the first time. He really is.

. . . is his replacement an omega too? Did Batman's new and improved Robin spend his first heat with . . .

Jason needs to not think about that right now.

Or ever, maybe.

It's so, so hard not to think about that right now.

He just wants his pack so bad. Worse than he ever remembers wanting them before.

Maybe not worse than he wanted them after he first crawled out of the pit and Ra's forced him to bare his throat for him, though.

No. Not worse than that.

But they replaced him. If there was ever anything there, ever any chance of mattering more than he actually had . . . well, that was gone a long, long time ago, wasn't it.

It was gone. And they didn't care. Hadn't ever cared at all, probably.

They didn't . . . they'd never . . .

Jason is vaguely aware of the fact that he's somehow wound up halfway down an alley, crouched down and curled up against a wall in the shadows under a fire escape. It is very nearly the stupidest goddamn place an omega in his condition could be.

He really doesn't give a fuck, though. Why does it matter? Why does anything matter? He should just stay here and let whatever the fuck happens to him happen.

He might as well.

No one's going to care either way.

It's dark. He's wearing scent blockers. He's all wrapped up in scratchy cotton and rough denim and heavy leather and he doesn't know where the nearest heat clinic is and he's not sure he could get his phone out to figure it out right now. He's not even sure he could kill someone right now, if it came to it.

All things considered, that's more worrying than anything else is.

A lot more.

Jason wants to go home so, so bad.

Which is fucking funny, given that he doesn't even have one.

Yeah. Really, really fucking funny.

Jason wants to throw up. Is definitely shaking. Even more definitely needs to get up and go find a fucking clinic and tell them whatever lies it takes to get himself in the door without someone trying to call his nonexistant pack alpha for him.

Without someone trying to call Bruce for him.

Like Bruce would even come.

Jason really, really wants to throw up. Or kill someone.

What he's actually doing, of course, is fucking sobbing. Because of course he is. Of course that's what's happening here. He's alone in a fucking miserable dark alley and sobbing his fucking guts out instead of just dealing with the fucking problem like a fucking adult.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Aside from that whole thing where heat makes most omegas insanely overemotional and irrational freaks. And how much worse that thing is when said overemotional and irrational omegas happen to be goddamn strays.

Just. Aside from that.

Fuck, he's so stupid. Why did he even come back? Bruce isn't going to care. No one is.

They replaced him.

They replaced him.

Like he wasn't anyone important. Like the place he'd been filling in their pack was just . . . just something temporary. Something that hadn't really mattered to them.

Like that place in their pack wasn't the only thing that'd ever really mattered to him.

He's so, so stupid.

So stupid.

He'll never have that again. He never even really had it to begin with.

And then he fucked up and died, and they all found someone better.

They didn't even give enough of a shit to avenge him before they did.

Jason knows he's being irrational. Knows he needs to get up and get out of here. Knows that these feelings are just . . . just . . .

It's only this bad because of his impending heat, he tries to remind himself. It's only this bad because of that. That's all. Sure as shit he's not crying like this because of anything else.

If it wasn't just the heat, after all, he'd never stop crying. If it wasn't just the heat, he'd have just let himself drown in the pit, or suffocate in his grave, or just . . . or just . . .

Jason needs to get up. Needs to get out of here.

Jason needs his fucking pack to fucking come for him.

But he's needed that before.

[cushfuddled]

I wish I didn't hate Ed and Stede but here we are I guess

I didn't have time to put a section about this in my review (since it would add another ten minutes onto a fifty minute video hhhhh) but I just gotta take a second and vent about how much I dislike Stede and Ed in season two.

When I watched season two for the first time, I assumed I didn't ship Gentlebeard anymore because I'd...I dunno...gotten bored of the ship or whatever. But when I went back to rewatch season one, I was immediately sucked back into the Ed/Stede jet engine. I loved them through the finale, up until around the middle of season two...at which point I became totally disinterested again.

Even going back through season one clips for this review...the chemistry is soooo strong for me. The only time I got that feeling from season two was like, from the mermaid scene and the finger-stacking scene.

And I honestly think my disinterest stems from the fact that I can't stand Ed and Stede as characters anymore. They're dicks in season one, but ANNOYING dicks in season two, and I guess I just...don't ship characters who make me want to tear my hair out.

In season two, Ed behaves like a petulant five year old with a gun. It's so "say sorry to your friend right now!" "I don't wanna! :(" followed by a stint in the time out chair and a mumbled non-apology. For all of season two, Ed behaves like a spoiled brat, and I really can't stand it.

My friend pointed out that Ed is in a position where he needs to reparent himself. His emotional development likely stopped around the time he killed his dad (when he was still a kid). No one modeled healthy behavior and emotional regulation for Ed past the age of...maybe fifteen? So of course he's gonna behave like a kid. It's gonna be a long road for Ed to learn these regulating strategies as an adult, and I guess...hhhhhh.

None of Ed's trauma excuses Ed from torturing and traumatizing his crew. It feels shitty to find a deeply traumatized character's behavior "annoying," but...I mean. I say this as someone who's experienced suicide ideation myself: Ed isn't real, and I'm not Ed's friend, and so I don't really feel obligated to extend patience and understanding to a fictional construct when that construct spends 90% of his screen time behaving like a stuck up, self-obsessed, capricious, whiny, murderous asshole.

Add season-two-Stede to the mix and CHRIST...Stede—like Ed—was always a dick, but the way he encouraged Lucius to divulge his trauma only to react with cartoonish disgust, cower like a cornered animal, and then flee while begging Lucius to be quiet...

Then Stede decides to veto the crew's decision to ban Ed—their abuser—from the ship ("talk it through as a crew" my ass)...? Oh, and gotta love how Stede-"I've been the cause of death. It changes you"-Bonnet sets a guy on fucking fire and laughs, then kills a bunch of English soldiers with nary a backward glance. Okay. Would've loved some kind of exploration re: that major heel turn, but fine. And then Ed and Stede stand over Izzy's grave—the (mutilated) body of their dear friend and crewmate—and their combined eulogy amounts to "He was tense. Very tense." "Yeah, he was a fucking nightmare. What a guy." How endearing. Season two turned these two bastards (affectionate) into bastards (derogatory) for me and I'm still salty about it. God DAMMIT.

[hearthotchner]

i’ll change for you

— aaron hotchner

@my-mummy-dust

tw; death, suicide, death of a child, lots of crying, aaron is a meanie, child abuse, then, the usual criminal minds stuff

notes: this took so long to write 🤧😭 but i really do like it. also, i have no idea how the criminal minds writers write this kinda stuff, i felt so horrible for what i wrote about the victim ☹️

word count: 3.2k

tension in the precinct was so thick, it could be cut with a knife; no one dared to speak, not with the stakes this high. you all just put your heads down, hoping to make sense of this mess of a case.

in the beginning, it seemed pretty simple. but, then the case began to drag on, with the unsub taking a longer dormancy period between each kill, leaving you and your team like sitting ducks.

you profiled this — he was arrogant, cocky. he knew that anything and everything that happened, was in his control; you hated to admit it but, right now, it was true.

as the minutes went on, aaron was becoming more agitated. it was obvious this case stuck with him more than others, they were children, innocent, defenceless, children; of course everyone felt that way about cases involving kids, but you knew that it was different for parents. and, as much as you wanted to, you refrained from trying comfort him, knowing he wanted to be left alone.

he had all the giveaways: the way his brows were furrowed, the scowl plastered on his face, how his whole body was tense, with his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

“i don’t get it. you said he was young, out of control, so why’s he taking a longer time between each kill? shouldn’t it be the other way around?” the deputy asked.

rossi spoke up, “yeah, it should be. these kinds of unsubs are always conflicting themselves in their profiles, it’s strange, but rare.” reaching for a few photos of the crime scenes, he continued, “look. you see all these? spilled milk, broken plate, unfinished homework.” he pointed at each picture where it was present, “he’s recreating something, that probably happened in his own childhood, and now he’s projecting it onto them, he sees himself in them, and feels he’s obligated to punish them.”

derek, fiddling with the pen in his hands, spoke next, “the trigger may have been something to do with a parent, and something as simple as seeing the first victim getting told off in a public place, like a park or mall, would prompt him to break into their home, and ‘punish’ the kid.” he shrugged.

“killing the parents is simply to ensure he doesn’t have his fantasy ruined, which is why they’re shot with a single bullet, through the skull.”

spencer takes over, “all these examples show how he is in control. however, his lack of control is displayed in the actual kill of the child. it reflects how, internally, he’s losing it.” he spoke with his hands too, raising them closer to his chest, at the world ‘internal’ “with each and every murder, it becomes more brutal, he beats them even after he knows they’re dead. it’s actually a huge escalation we see compared to the first, where he strangles the victim.”

“but why take the child this time? all the others were killed in their own homes. what makes matt different?”

“that’s what we’re trying to figure out.” rossi sighed.

all heads snapped to the front of the room, when the door was abruptly opened, revealing the officer who was slightly out of breath, “i think we got something. someone’s called the tip line, asking for you guys.”

—

“this is ssa aaron hotchner, with the behavioural analysis unit.”

the plan was to get him on the phone long enough for penelope to track him, and humanise the victim in his eyes, an ounce of empathy could save that boys life.

clattering and yelling could be heard from the other end of the line, shouts of “tell them!” repeated, over the loud sobs that escaped the child.

you couldn’t listen to this anymore, but you had to.

he was relentless, hurling insults toward him, and all you could do was sit there and listen.

looking over at your boyfriend, you saw him take in a deep breath, composing himself, before talking, “matthew’s just a kid, he doesn’t know why he’s there, or, why you’re mad at him.”

“oh yeah? he’s a spoiled brat, that’s what he is, and he fucking knows it! mom’s not here to save you is she?”

aaron tried to reason, “don’t do this. you’re doing the same thing to him, what they did to you, shouldn’t you be putting an end to this cycle? just bring matthew home, we can help you.”

sobs and begs for forgiveness grew louder over the line, “shut up!” you didn’t know who it was directed at, nor did you care. undoubtedly, it was the loud bang of a gun that filled the room, right before the phone was cut.

aaron sucked in a breath, hands beginning to shake slightly.

“penelope, tell me you got something.” morgan asked with desperation.

“yeah- i, uh, yes. it was a burner cell, pinged off of these three towers. i’ve already sent it to your phones.” her voice wavering.

“mom?” you whispered.

“what?”

“he said mom. garcia, could you check if matthew’s mother had any other children, around 20 to 25 years ago?” you hoped to god you were getting somewhere with this, if you weren’t, you doubted you’d catch this guy.

“o-okay.” there was a pause, as she typed, “yes. a son. eric watts. born in 1990, when elizabeth was only 16. he was put into the foster system, the day he was born.” she paused again. “his foster parents, brian and martha crawford, weren’t so kind, during his time with them: constant visits to the hospital, with broken bones, concussions — blamed it on fights, but, it wasn’t backed up. although, his school reported seeing bruising around his neck when he was younger once, but nobody ever did anything.”

“can you check if there’s a property, that has any significance to him? maybe, his old foster home? he’d need somewhere secluded.”

“um, yes! there’s a small ranch house in brian crawford’s name, just a few miles off the west tower, sending the co-ordinates now.”

wasting no time, the team quickly threw their vests on and piled into the two SUV’s — police units following closely behind.

climbing into the passenger side, you said, “this is probably his endgame. there’s no other reason why he’d change his plans, by taking matt to a secondary location, and have the courage to call — those insults were personal.”

“yeah. he’s jealous. upset. why did my mom give me away, but her new kid gets to live a happy and loving life, one i should’ve had. i don’t think it’s gonna be easy taking him alive.” rossi replied from the drivers seat, turning on the sirens.

—

when you turned the cars in, the lights and sirens switched off, so he wouldn’t know you’d be coming.

slamming the car door shut, you rushed to the front of the house, heart practically jumping out of your chest.

morgan kicked the door down, immediately turning to the left, while you went straight ahead, and JJ taking the right.

a series of hopeless ‘clear!’s was heard through your earpiece.

faint yells that were barely present before, got louder and louder, as you inched toward a white door. “i got him. in the basement.” you announced into the mic on your collar.

wrapping your hand around the cold metal, you swung the door open, gun aimed straight ahead, and quickly ran down the stairs, that creaked under you.

“eric watts! FBI! let the boy go.” aaron was stood right next to you, gun also aimed at the man.

“don’t! get away! i’ll kill him!” he was panicking, scrambling to drag matthew up by the collar of his shirt, holding the loaded revolver to the side of his head.

“eric. you don’t want to do this.” you spoke carefully, your aim not faltering. “we know what happened. your mom.. she was only a kid when she had you, she didn’t know any better, than to do what she did.”

“she let me suffer!” he cried out. “she lived her life happily, knowing i was out there, and she did nothing!” his hand began to tighten around the boy’s neck. “all those years! all those years, and she didn’t come! she got to play house with her perfect little family!” he spat, “while i was forced into that living hell she put me in!”

“killing these children isn’t going to fix it eric. they did nothing wrong, just like you didn’t. you need to stop this, so nobody else gets hurt.” it was working, you could see how his hold began to loosen. “let him go.”

a wave of visible emotion flew through him, as he looked down. horror, shock, disbelief, and, realisation, written all over his face. it looked like he had just woken up from a nightmare.

then, his whole body began to tremble, eyes brimming with tears, when he lifted the gun, to his own head.

a loud bang followed immediately after.

—

matthew was in bad shape.

aaron had carried his limp body to the EMT’s — praying he wasn’t too late. he needed to make sure he was okay, that he’d make it home back to his mom.

sometimes, his vision would change, at a glance, he saw his own son in his arms: all battered and bruised. it was an image that would haunt him for days.

“is- is he gonna be okay?” he croaked out.

“we don’t know, agent, he’s in critical condition.” they replied, shooting him a look of sympathy.

after telling them that elizabeth watts would be on her way to the hospital, aaron asked if he could ride in the ambulance with him. he needed assurance. closure.

—

“i’m sorry, sir. but we lost him shortly after he arrived.”

he felt like breaking down, falling to his knees, when he heard those words leave the nurse. but, all he managed to do was nod, with a solemn look on his face.

aaron didn’t have it in him to go to matthew’s room, to say goodbye — if he did, he may never rest easy again.

on his way to the car, he pulled out a little photo of jack he had in his wallet. seeing his son, always brought him comfort, made all his troubles go away, just for a moment. a small smile creeped up onto the fathers face, when he realised he’d be home to that ray of sunshine, in a couple hours.

—

aaron barely slept that night.

when he wasn’t seeing matt in the corners of his vision, he’d be visited by him in his dreams. the boy would cry, tiny hands gripping onto his shirt, demanding for an answer as to why aaron couldn’t save him; all he could do was let “i’m sorry” fall from his lips over and over again. why wasn’t he fast enough?

—

when morning came, you decided you had given aaron enough time. he was struggling. you couldn’t stand to leave him alone any longer, it wasn’t good for him.

in the short time people interacted with him, he’d get progressively more irritated — he was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off.

you noticed, along with everyone else, how he’d stare off into the distance, face turned white, his usual blank expression laced with fear and guilt.

“aaron.” you spoke, breaking him out of his trance, “i know you’d prefer to be left alone right now, but i really don’t think you should be. are you okay?” he stared at you. “i think you should take some time off, you’re tired, and you’re stressed. maybe we could make dinner together? to get your mind off of it?” bringing your hand to rest on his, “and we can talk.”

“did you really just ask me that?” he whispered, gaze unmoving, “four kids, seven parents, and an unsub dead. multiple family members for me to answer to, for me to tell that i couldn’t save any of their children. and all you can think about is making dinner?” his brows furrowed in anger and confusion.

“what?” you asked, “aaron, you know i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then what did you mean it like? tell me.”

“i just wanted to help you-”

“well you can’t! stop trying to act like more than what you are, (y/n)! these people are dead, they can’t come back, and you want me to brush that off?!” voice becoming harsher with every word he spoke.

your vision began to blur at the edges, and your throat began to close up, “more than what i am?” you asked. “and what am i to you, aaron?”

“nothing.” he replied coldly.

having nothing left to say, you turned, not wanting him to see the tears that rolled down your cheeks, and walked away.

he didn’t do anything to stop you.

you knew this would happen, knew you’d be the one who’d be at the receiving end of his anger — what you didn’t know, was that he’d reveal the truth of what your relationship really meant to him.

it dawned on you then, that maybe his promises of love were empty. instead, they were used as a mere tool to keep you around, to fill the absence of a partner in his life.

—

it had been three days, since you got back from the case — you and aaron hadn’t spoke. he was withdrawn, barely coming out of his office unless it was necessary, but you saw how red his eyes were, from crying or tiredness, you didn’t know.

you were torn. one part of you longed to go over to him, do anything just to get that look of despair off his face; another part of you wanted to avoid him like the plague. he hurt you, used you — yet you didn’t understand why you were still so drawn to him.

—

there was rowdiness in the bullpen, everyone deep in a debate about how one should cut their sandwiches, until a voice broke through, “(y/n). may i speak with you?”

of course now he wanted to speak, you internally rolled your eyes, genuinely appalled at how he’s handling this, as you walked up the stairs to his office.

“what did you want to talk about, sir?”

the title stung more than he’d like to admit, “don’t. don’t call me that.”

“then what do you want me call you?”

his words were quiet, almost pleading, “my name.”

“i don’t think that’s appropriate, hotch.”

“(y/n), please-”

“listen, if this isn’t about work, then we have nothing to talk about.” you headed toward the door, leaving him alone again.

this time, you missed the way his hand reached out for yours.

you made a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring the teams concerned looks, as you wiped the tears beginning to fall down your cheeks.

you didn’t know why you were crying, it was only the sight of him that seemed to bring all those emotions rushing back, you couldn’t help it, as the dam finally broke.

a moment after, you felt yourself being pulled into an embrace, the person rubbing their hand up and down your back, until you calmed down.

“what happened?” it was emily.

“nothing,” you sniffed, “it’s fine.”

“did hotch say something? you weren’t in his office long.”

“no, can you just get my stuff please? i’ll finish the rest of my work at home.” you sighed, wiping your eyes.

she nodded, giving you a soft look, “yeah, sure, i’ll drive you.”

she told you to wait by the elevator, whilst she gathered your things, and told hotch where she’d be going.

—

“thanks, emily, you didn’t have to do this.” you set your bags down.

“it’s alright, just get some sleep, okay?”

you wanted nothing more. so, when she left, you collapsed on the couch, turning something on the tv as background noise, as you fell asleep.

—

it wasn’t soon after, when you were woken by firm knocking on the front door. rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you sluggishly made your way over, the sound becoming louder, and desperate. you didn’t even bother checking through the peephole, which was why you were visibly shocked, when met with the sight of aaron there.

“please hear me out.” he begged, speaking before you did, “i won’t bother you again, if you do. please, just listen.”

you moved aside, letting him in.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, (y/n).” his voice completely different, compared to the last time you spoke with him — something that was so harsh, was now soft.

he was so unlike himself: hair disheveled, with raw emotion painted on his face — he wasn’t ssa hotchner, bau unit chief, anymore, he was aaron, and he was afraid. “i wish i knew why i said that, i really do, because it was far from the truth. i shouldn’t have said it, i know that, and i should’ve gone to you straight away when i did,” his long fingers twitched, itching to hold you, “and explained to you that it wasn’t your fault, you were just trying to help.”

with every word, you struggled to hold yourself together, because the look on his face broke your heart. the urge to be close to him became unbearable — so, you gave in. wrapping your arms around his body, and resting your head on his chest, the rapid beating of his heart, and scent of his cologne soothing you.

“i didn’t want you to be alone.” you whispered, voice breaking.

you were a sensitive soul, and aaron knew that, which was why he had never raised his voice at you, prior to that day.

“please don’t cry, it’s all i’ve been making you do these days.” he spoke, wiping the tears that you didn’t even know were falling.

“it hurt hearing you say that. i thought- i thought you’d been lying to me, this whole time.”

“i wasn’t. i’m sorry i made you think that.”

looking up, he tried to hold back his own tears. “i’m scared, (y/n)..” he breathed, “ever since that day, he’s been there, always asking me why i couldn’t save him, what am i supposed to say to that?”

you lead him to the couch, sat him down, and let him hold you, as he continued, “and i can’t tell the difference, between him and jack.”

then, he told you how he saw jack as the one in his arms that day. and how, one night, he was putting his son to bed, and the vision of matt flashed for a moment.

knowing it calmed him, you ran your fingers through his soft hair, as he cried.

“you need help, aaron. this job, it’s taking a toll on you. if you carry on like this, you’re going to lose yourself — you already are.” you wove your fingers with his, “but, you can’t be helped if you don’t want it, you know that, don’t you?” he nodded. “jack’s spring break is coming up.” you mentioned, “you should take those days off, it’ll be good for both of you. and, i’ll start looking for some therapists too, alright?”

he kissed your cheek, “okay.”

“if that doesn’t work, then we’ll find something else, and we’ll keep doing it again until we find something.”

it was silent after that. eventually, the two of you moved so that you were laying on his chest; you thought aaron had fallen asleep if he hadn’t mumbled, “you’re too good to me, i don’t deserve you, angel. i’d be so lost without you.”

“don’t say that. you’d find your way around, you always do — i’m just giving you a little shove.” you smiled.

[purble-turble]

How would Mei hold up in all this? I've seen very few people speak on her perspective. Witnessing her best friend basically be pushed to suicide.

And afterwards her friend group gets kinda split.

Prince red is clearly gonna distance himself from mk which of course would effect his friendship with Mei.

Oh yeah, Prince Red and Mei are definitely besties by the time season 5 rolls around. Him breaking up with MK is also him breaking up with her in a way. Of course Red is pretty distraught by everything that’s happened, so his relationship with the rest of the gang is not even really on his mind as he walks out the door.

It isn’t until much later that it dawns on him that he’s lost Mei and all the others in this breakup too.. in fact, he’s so wrapped up in his own misery (and his blankets as he lays in bed ignoring the rest of the world) that it’s not until Mei comes bursting in, demanding an explanation, that he even realizes! …Mei doesn’t get much of an explanation out of him, of course, because the moment she pivots from chewing him out for ignoring her puppy videos to asking about breaking up with MK, Prince Red just bursts into tears and sobs and can’t properly answer.

It takes some time and some hugs with back pats to get him to calm down enough to get the words out. He apologizes for ghosting Mei, but he just couldn’t be with MK anymore. He explains why, or starts to, but Mei just yells over him that it doesn’t matter why! She just wants to know why him breaking up with MK means breaking up with HER too!! Was he only friends with her because he was dating MK? Are they not friends anymore???? This last question is asked with big, teary eyes which catches the prince off guard.

Prince Red suddenly finds himself comforting her instead, insisting that no he really does like her, and their friendship isn’t dependent on him being with MK, he just… he wasn’t thinking about how this would affect them to be honest. He’s been too caught up in his own feelings of hurt and has been wallowing, and he’s sorry for ignoring her for so long… Mei forgives him immediately, which surprised him, but then the two of them have a long discussion about how they feel about what MK did back at the pillar and that whole ‘sacrifice’ thing. There’s more tears for sure at this point, but from both of them.

The visit from Mei helps remind him that other people have been affected by what’s happened too. He was really blinded by his own pain over losing MK, and hearing about how devastated Mei was when she thought she lost her best friend really makes him feel bad about leaving her behind and making her think she lost her other best friend instead..

Anyway, long story short, the two make up and they become besties again… Prince Red is pretty insistent that he can’t just be friends with MK, though, so it leaves Mei kinda in between them which he knows is awkward and he apologizes for that too.. but he promises to respond to her puppy videos again, and maybe she can come visit him here some times… it’s not going to be the same as it was, but they don’t have to give up on their friendship just yet.

[keikakudom]

Lemme try and make sense of Vox's mindset, and correct me if I get anything wrong?

I think Vox in RR!au hardly actually thinks about suicide. He's too much of a busy man to do that, after all! Thinking about death is for people with too much time on their hands, who don't have to deal with a billion problems on the daily. And sure, maybe it wouldn't be a terrible accident if he was locked out on extermination day one year (not that there's exterminations anymore), but he'll never bother to actively seek it -- why would he? He has things to do. Empires to run/build. Deals to make. Resorts to run, residents to settle, princesses to talk to.

Really, everything would be just fine and dandy, as long as progress is being made, nothing goes wrong at the resort, heaven doesn't come down for no good reason, and that deer freak manage to not bother him for a single day. All dandy!

So what if he's been going through business ventures like someone going through Doritos at the back of the car? It's difficult to stay on top, in Hell, and he can't rely on tech or media forever, not when they cycle faster and faster(and he would know, of course, his whole body is made of it). He's doing what it takes, and if it's risky, what business isn't?

And re: Alastor, vox may have once had feelings for him, but now it's probably soured into maybe wishing that Alastor would just fuck off somewhere where he'll never be heard from again. I think Vox knows very well from years of companionship that Alastor considers him a source of amusement and entertainment rather than an equal, and that hasn't truly changed even after he left, and in a way that has to bite? That Alastor cannot leave it alone, has to make his opinions and disdain clear to all of hell every single day, and also make it clear that vox cannot do anything to stop him (that tv still runs on radiowaves fundamentally, that he can't get rid of Alastor's influence).

Like the way I interpret canon!vox's feelings re:alastor has a lot more insecurity and the desire to show he's stronger now, he's over it, he doesn't need him, than just being rejected romantically, and in contrast RR!vox grinned and bore it longer without letting on, and then at some point just gave up, by which time his feelings have soured so far past insecurity and bitterness into straight up nihilism. (Doomed yaoi my fav)

Ok I'm just rambling now but yeah I think vox in RR!au is really really interesting? Bc he's y'know not in the best place but also he's fine. He's not, probably never, going to actively do anything, left to his own devices he's just going to keep at his daily routine and eventually self-destruct on his own hubris by taking on far more than he is capable of (people pleasing tendencies, hm?). But otherwise he's fine.

*drops my glass of milk* yea, this all. Checks out.

(that tv still runs on radiowaves fundamentally, that he can't get rid of Alastor's influence)

I think RR!Alastor is also chasing RR!Vox because he knows something is really wrong when Vox wants to cut something *fundamental to his functions* out from his life... If Alastor had any heat to his words, he could do some serious damage to Vox.

But Alastor was not able to reciprocate back then(or in general) the way Vox ever wanted him to. Alastor might think, "What's so wrong about being amusing to me? What's so wrong in being cared for that way?" But we know that Vox, even in canon, is pretty damn emotional. A confession was bound to happen, but since RR!Vox never did, he opt'd to shut them off. It started off with distractions, and those worked too well. Eventually he gave up trying to figure out his emotions and took the "easy" way out, nihilism--but like everything Vox dips his foot into, it's never enough. Only this time it's not only power(like I interpret canon!Vox to seek) that's growing/he's greedy for, it's this all-encompassing void.

Another interesting characterization to tack onto RR!AU Vox is his strong lack of self-preservation, I did mention it here when I had some thoughts on canon!Vox, but rather than "confidence", he does not care. And on occasion, he can go irrationally, batshit crazy for the same reason.

Let's set the stage in hmm, 1980s? He starts not to care about smaller allies, the people he stomps on, eating them up to become an overlord. Recruits Valentino, doesn't care that Val is immoral. At first it's "not his business", but it starts spreading. What is it that he's looking for? Power? Love? Entertainment? People to accept him?

Which is why RR!Vox decided to jump the gun a little bit and shoot for becoming a form of "GOD", aka the original reason for all his anguish in Hell(his religious roots as a human). It's kind of...an endpoint? It's not the most sane, or sensical route-- but he doesn't care that much. He's functioning on this tired/desensitized, pseudo-robotic, logical reasoning with a combo of "oh god I'm running out of interest"(in existing/running himself to the ground). So....hm, "fine" is a tragic word, indeed.

He's not, probably never, going to actively do anything, left to his own devices he's just going to keep at his daily routine and eventually self-destruct on his own hubris by taking on far more than he is capable of (people pleasing tendencies, hm?). But otherwise he's fine.

Welllll, he did always want to go out with a bang. If he did. I don't know, something really big. Like becoming God! Yeah.....That'd do it.

IMO, the premise of RR!AU isn't in stasis-- the reason Vox picked up this project in particular is an aggressive move. He's no longer distributing the same amount of work to the other Vees either anymore, so there is....some urgency, is what I like to think....

[transingthoseformers]

Dot is torn between momma bear rage mode and shocked aproval because "My kids got Stranger Danger from a moderately to heavily injured 'maybe not a Decepticon anymore' after he escorted them to Bumblebee once he varified with them that Bumblebee was actually one of their designated adults."

Optimist Optimus Prime, sensing a potential redemption arc, is enthusiastic about helping another mech with their personal journy. Even Damus. Perhaps especially Damus, whom he feels he failed. After all Megatron rubed quite a bit of salt in to that particular wound. Megatron looks mildly panicked at how excited OP is at the prospect. Honestly most of the bots do just not for Megatron's specific reason.

Tarantulas when Damus of Tarn just slumps over and tells him there is no more List. There is no more DJD. "PRAISE PRIMUS! Wait, then why are you here?" And he gets trauma dumped on. A lot. He's legit patching up the tank and building him a solar energon convertor so He'll go away. When Damus tenively asked for not just his OG Paint colors restored but the code patch to cure his Transformation addiction Tara reckoned the mech is suicidal and therefore a terible liability to share a hideout with. Gets him out the door with seguestions on the processor benifits of meditation

Meanwhile Starscream just found the wreckage of the Peaceful Tyrany and is fliping out because the DJD is here on planet. He has no way to know Tarn is the only member of the team alive and has basicaly given up the concept. Not to mention is quietly having a personal crisis thanks to Megatron's brutal truth telling.

It's a race to see who reaches him first in his crisis of faith. Optimus, Soundwave or human forces folowing the news of a brightly colored tank rolling/strolling along.

As she should be, oh Dot

Makes sense tfe Optimus would jump at this idea, like. Yeah.

Love the idea that while Tarantulas isn't a medic he's good enough for Damus

Tarantulas:

Tarantulas: (fuck this shittttt)

Tarantulas: yeah that does not sound ideal

Wreckage? Did we kill of the DJD with a starshipwreck? Or something else?

Of course Starscream would be who finds The Peaceful Tyranny, which I'm expecting is all fucked up?

This makes me wonder what happened, exactly, that lead to this version of Tarn arriving on earth? What lead him here?