#or has done something horrible and regrets it so so much

[merkerlerspeaks]

Zodi/Celeste/Raine is somehow both my baby and also the girl my inner little weird girl looks up to so much she adopts parts of her as her personality

[dxsole]

Forgiveness was something that Jessamine often had on her mind. It's a tricky thing, isn't it? God forgives. You repent and he wipes you clean, fresh as fallen snow.

Your soul is clean but your flesh remembers. Muscle memory. It remembers how she forced fangs into jars, pulling poison from snakes. It remembers digging graves. It remembers filling them.

"...Do you think it's possible to be forgiven by the dead?" The dead can't turn against her again or speak out of turn, but they could still haunt and that, above all other things, is what frightened her so.

[nightingale-prompts]

Godling-DCxDP prompt

Many don't understand what it's like to gaze into the abyss. To truly know the haunting moment it gazes back. Even fewer can see still stand to throw themselves into that abyss.

Tim never understood why cultists worship monstrosities, being that promised the end of everything for nothing in return. He had seen the remnants of human sacrifices, rituals gone wrong, and man-made horrors beyond human comprehension. Part of him regretted agreeing to partner with Constantine to solve these cases. But another wanted to know more.

After searching through another half-destroyed tome he found something. A location to a summoning circle, an ancient one that these cultists were searching for. The one they needed to finally successfully summon their god.

But they got there too late. The cult had finished their ritual and the "god" they had summoned stood before them.

That god was...perfect. Disgustingly perfect, dreadfully beautiful, and horrifyingly enchanting. His mind etched every detail in his memory. It felt like his mind had conjured this person from his dreams, day and night. It was like looking at an illusion. But his eyes were a hellishly bright Lazarus green.

The cultist bowed to him and his smile, his perfect unnaturally white smile was full of soft warmth. Tim understood at that moment why they worshipped him. Their minds couldn't escape this web of divine energy. They were so enraptured by finally seeing prove of the divine.

"You all have done enough. Your souls will come with me. To the abyss." He said calmly as he waved his hand and each cultist dissappeared.

He sighed softly as he turned his gave to Tim and John.

"You offed 'em? I thought they were your followers." Constantine said gruffly.

"I have no followers. These souls have caused so much damage to this world. They can't be allowed to stay here."

"So you decided to rapture them?" Constantine raised an eyebrow.

"It's complicated. Yes, they did horrible things but if they hadn't discovered the tomes of the old king they wouldn't have ended up this way. Have pity on them. They are just mortals scared and confused searching for meaning. Like I was. I have sent them to the abyss. Their souls with dissipate into the void. There will be no pain. No eternal punishment. Just an end. They will be at peace, I promise. It is what they want." The god's voice echoed, his features rippled as he moved showing afterimages of alternate forms he used.

It was odd. Every fiber of Tim's being screamed for him to bow, to worship, and to give himself to this being. Yet, his feet remained stubbornly planted on the ancient dusty floor.

"Don't look directly at it," Constantine whispered hissed.

Right. You probably shouldn't stare at the otherworldy being that likely has mind warping abilities. Especially one that just said he erased his own followers from existence and saying it was a good thing.

"I'm really sorry. I should make it up to you. Clockwork will be pissed enough that I interfereed so I have to do something to at least make up for this mess."

"You can kick off by doing one and buggering off" Constantine said immediately.

"So cold. How about you? What do you want?"

"I think an explanation would help," Tim said only to get elbowed by Constantine.

"You ain't gotta know nothing, mate. The more we know, the dodgier it gets." Constantine said firmly. "Whatever you are, you need to bugger off. You’ll wreck the noggins of everyone around you."

"I don't mean to. I don't ask people to become obsessed with me or worship me. Mortals have such weak minds they cave at my presence. But I can't help it. I lost my human body recently and can't turn this off."

The being groaned but to human ears it was similar to a purr.

"Seriously, everything I do is filtered through some sensory thing that makes you little mortals think its the greatest thing ever no matter how simple. Touching you would probably melt your brain with how good it would feel. So the trench coat man is probably right."

"You said you lost your human body. How?" Tim asked still staring at the floor as he felt the godling came closer.

"A bad fight. My mortal form wasn't indestructible but saving my family made it more than worth it. But...I haven't seen them since. Im still getting used to this while thing. I just wanted to reach out and find some answers so i reached into this universe and well...you can probably tell what happened next. I just wanted to make it right and fix it. The other ancients said this was the best option and..."

Every moment he spoke the less godly he seemed.

Constantine still wasn't willing to help and had to drag Tim away. When Tim actually tried to look up the fodling was gone.

"Never do that again." The brit said sternly. "Now help me clean this mess up."

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts? (That was a nice fever dream. I am now thinking maybe 8-9?)

Max didn‘t wait until he was back at the hotel to call Colette. He was attached to his phone as soon as he got done with that horrible press conference. 

He really didn‘t care what anybody else had to say about that. As soon as he could, he called Colette.

It wasn‘t Colette that picked up though, it was Pascale, her mother.

"Max," she greeted him.

Max was surprised to hear Pascale's voice on the other end of the line. He had been expecting to hear Colette's voice, and hearing her mother instead sent a jolt of anxiety through him.

"How is she doing?" He asked. He didn't need to say more. Pascale understood.

"She's...she's not doing well," Pascale said wearily. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "She's been crying almost non-stop since the news broke."

Max closed his eyes, his heart clenching painfully at the news. The thought of Colette crying, of her being so upset and distressed...it was unbearable.

"Can I talk to her?" he asked, desperately needing to hear her voice.

He needed to hear that she was okay, that she was holding up. He needed to know that she was coping.

Somehow. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Max held his breath as he waited for Pascale to respond. He could hear muffled voices in the background, and he knew that Pascale was likely talking to Colette.

"Maxie?"

Colette had cried. That was clearly obvious in her voice, how hoarse it was...how even these two syllable seemed to take so much effort from her, her voice hitching. He could hear her shaky breathing over the phone, clearly her trying to get a grip on herself and not worry him even more.

But that had become impossible the moment George Russell had decided to get completely bananas.

"Hey, liefje," he said softly. "How are you doing?"

Colette's voice caught on a sob, and Max's heart ached at the raw emotion in it. He could practically picture her, sitting in their living room, tears streaming down her face as she tried to hold it together.

"I'm...I'm not okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max's heart clenched in his chest, and he desperately wished he was there with her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. But he could only listen.

"What can I do?" he asked, his voice thick with emotions. "How can I help you?"

He needed to do something, anything to ease her pain and make her feel better. "Do you want me to come home?" He asked her. "I'll do it, liefje. Say the word."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He could hear Colette breathing heavily, clearly trying to compose herself.

"No," she finally said, her voice sounding a bit more steady. "No, please don't. You have a race tomorrow. You need to focus."

Max's heart squeezed at her words. He wanted nothing more than to hop on the next plane back to Monaco and be with her. But he knew she was right. He couldn't just abandon his team and the race like that. "If you change your mind..." he trailed off.

"No, we are not doing that," Colette said shakily. "Your races are yours, and I'll be waiting once you come home."

"You are more important than any race ever could be," he disagreed sharply. More important than anything else to him. He loved her so much. "I want you to know that."

He needed her to know that. 

She had always been a pillar of support to him. Had never questioned how much of his time his career demanded. Had never once thrown it at his head in an accusatory way. She had always accepted it. Had supported him every step of the way, from his first practice in a Formula 1 car, through his first point finish, his first race win, four championships…

She had always supported him. 

But no race win…no trophy, no world champion title was ever going to be as important to him as Colette. 

He would happily give all of that up, if it meant that he got to come home to her. 

He heard her exhale shakily.  "I do know that," Colette said softly. "I know that. But...But even if you were here, you couldn't do anything but hold me. Everybody is..." she trailed off and he could hear another hitch in her breath. "Did you...Did you see what Arthur did?" She asked him, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"I did, liefje," he agreed softly. "He shouldn't have done that without talking to you first."

"Or to you. This is your life too," Colette disagreed.

"Colette," he said carefully. "I don't care that the public knows. You were the one that wanted to keep this private, which was completely alright with me. I agreed to that. It didn't bother me, liefje. But I wouldn't have cared if it was public knowledge either. I am only upset with Arthur because he upset you."

Colette didn't answer. He could picture her sitting on their bed, cross legged, one hand resting on her baby bump…she took deep breaths, clearly trying to keep her tears at bay.

"I just...I feel so stupid," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel so stupid...I shouldn't be so upset by this. But I am and I..." her voice trailed off.

"Hey," he interrupted gently. "You are allowed to be upset, liefje. You are allowed to feel however you feel," he reminded her carefully.​​

There was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Gemma stick her head into the driver’s room, a grimace on her face. "Can it wait?" He demanded from her, not caring at all, that he was being rude.

"No, it can't. George Russell had some more stuff to say," Gemma said hesitantly.

Colette must have heard it, because he got to hear another choked off sob from her.

"Liefje," he said softly. "I want you to let me deal with this, alright? Don't look online. Don't search it out. Just ignore it. Your only job right now is to take care of you and our baby," he told her fiercely. "Let us take care of the rest."

Colette let out another shaky breath on the other end of the line. He could hear her trying to compose herself, trying to push the sobs back.

Finally, she said quietly, "Okay," in a small, meek voice, and he hated how defeated she sounded.

"Go cuddle with the cats," he told her softly. "Let your Mom spoil you."

"M…Maman’s making hot cocoa," Colette offered weakly, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

It was faint, but it was there. And that was all he could hope for right now."I am jealous," he teased her lightly.

"I'd save you some, but it's too good to share," she teased back before her voice caught on another sob, and he knew that this was it. This was the end of her being able to converse with him.

"Hey," he said gently. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," Colette whispered in a broken voice. "So much."

Max hated that he couldn't be there, he hated that he had to hang up. He just wanted to hold her, to remind her that everything was alright.

"I want you to do something for me," he told her in a firm voice. "I want you to take a bath. And a long one," he told her. "One of the nice lavender scented bubble bath, I always make fun of you about. And I want you to eat dinner. And I want you to watch some of those stupid tv shows you love, and for you to relax. And rest. Can you do that?"

"I...I'll try," Colette said weakly over the line. He could hear her crying getting slightly worse again, the realization that they were ending the call obviously hitting her.

"And then you will take the best nap. And cuddle with our cats," he continued. "Alright? You'll do all that for me?"

"Yes," she answered him, her voice breaking on that one word.

Max closed his eyes, his heart hurting as he took a deep breath. "I am going to hang up now. I'm sorry, love."

"I know," she whispered, and he could hear the desperation in her voice. The need to keep the phone line between them open. But he knew that she was tired and he knew that she was distraught. And he knew that she needed rest. He needed to let her go.

"I love you," he said fiercely. "I love you so damn much, liefje. I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"I-I love you," Colette managed back, before her voice broke on a sob again. "More than anything. Please...be careful tomorrow, okay? Be careful."

"I will," he promised her. "I swear, I will be careful. I'll come home to you in one piece, okay? I promise."

"You better," she told him in a wobbly voice. It was half pleading, half joking, and it just about crushed him.

"I swear. I'll try my damn hardest," he promised her. "And when I get home? I promise I will hold you for hours. I won't let you go, liefje."

He hung up on her then. And then he turned to Gemma. "What could Russell possibly have said that I should care about it right now?"

"How about that you have spent the last 15 years living a lie and that he wouldn't want you to date his sister, because your girlfriend probably is the one dealing with all your anger issues?" Gemma offered drily.

Max looked at her in disbelief for a moment, his mind refusing to process her words immediately, they were so completely insane.

"What?" He finally asked, his voice coming out in a disbelieving croak. Gemma handed him her phone, a grimace on her face. And there it was in black written text. Screencaps of statements George Russell had made.

 None of it making any sense whatsoever. Max had no idea what the other driver had snorted that had sent him off the rocker like that.

"They tried to get Charles Leclerc to comment as well, but he said it was insulting and that he has not once worried about you and Colette, more the opposite," Gemma said quickly. "Everybody that has ever seen the two of you together knows that it's complete bullshit, Max."

Still. He swallowed.

"I would never lay a finger on her," he said weakly. Not ever.

Colette was...Colette was everything. Colette had been his safe place before he even knew what that was or that he needed one. 

He would rather cut off his own hand than to put a finger at her in anger.

Gemma stepped over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Everybody knows that," she told him gently. "Everyone that knows you knows that you would never. Just like everyone knows that the other stuff Russell has said is nonsense as well."

Max closed his eyes, letting Gemma's words sink in. He knew that they were true. The people in his life, the people that knew him and Colette...they knew that those accusations were completely ridiculous. That even thinking he would ever hurt Colette was laughable.

"But..." he said quietly. "Social media won't care that it's complete crap."

"It'll blow over. You know the online world has the attention span of a goldfish," she said with a shrug. "We'll send the usual suspects to talk to the media tomorrow to make it clear that you neither have anger issues nor that anybody needs to worry about you laying a single finger on Colette," Gemma promised. "I know that this is hurtful, Max, but I think it just makes it very clear that everything that Russell has said has been completely made up."

Max leaned his head against the door behind him, his mind racing, trying to process everything. He knew she was right. That everything she was saying was reasonable. But it still hurt. It hurt that somebody would come at him and his relationship with Colette like that. Especially when it was so clear that they knew nothing about them.

"I'm going to call some people," Gemma told him gently and with a final squeeze on his shoulder left the room.

Max took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything and calm his racing thoughts. He wanted to call Colette again. He wanted to explain again and again that he would never hurt her. That all of this was complete and utter bullshit.

But he didn't want to bother or upset her even more, if she had even been able to rest at all.

And he hated this. He hated this so much.

He really did. He hated that there was nothing he could do.

He hated that the next day was going to be a media circus. He hated that he was going to have to sit in a car for an hour and a half tomorrow, without being able to see or talk to her.

And most of all, he hated George Russell.

Bath. Lavender. Warm Water. And hot cocoa.

She felt like a child again.

Her Maman had been hovering around her all afternoon and early evening, fussing over her when she really didn't need it, but Colette was glad that her mother refused to leave her alone.

Especially when her mother tucked her into bed like she had done when she had been a wayward 6-year old. 

"Arthur didn't think," her mother said softly. "He didn't do this on purpose to hurt you."

Colette let out a shaky breath. "I know he didn't," she said thickly. "But I am just so mad at him. And it just...hurt," she admitted. It hurt more than she had thought.

"I know," her mother said softly.

Another shaky exhale, and Colette closed her eyes, just to keep the tears at bay.

"I knew it was going to come out one day," she admitted weakly. "But I never wanted it to come out like this. Not now.”

Bébé rumbled unerneath her skin, striking out to kick against her ribs once more. She laid her hand over where he had just kicked her. 

Her mother gently sat down next to her, gathering her in her arms and pulling her close. Colette melted into it and leaned into her Mom with a soft, shaky sigh.

"It wasn't right of Arthur to say anything," her mother told her quietly. "He had no right to share that picture. Nor to talk about your relationship. Not without talking to you about it first."

Colette swallowed back another bout of tears, hiding her face in her Mom's chest. "I know," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I know, it wasn't his news to share, but...it's still just...it's just so upsetting."

Her mother ran a hand over her hair while the other circled her back in a soft, circular motion. "I know," her mother agreed, her voice kind and soft. "But this doesn't change anything. You know that, right? The important people already knew," she continued softly. "Your family and friends. They all know that Max and you are in a relationship."

A quiet nod, Colette still hiding her face in her mother’s chest, her fingers clinging onto her shirt.

"It's just...." she said weakly. "It still hurts. A lot."

Her mother's arms wrapped around her a little tighter, a gentle kiss placed atop her head. "I know," her Mom agreed again, gently rubbing Colette's back. "It hurts, and it sucks, and it's not fair that he didn't talk to you about it before. I'm sorry, Choupinette."

Colette swallowed again, and exhaled, trying to hold it together. But a few tears escaped anyway. "I just...I just wish that he hadn't. I feel so exposed now," she admitted in a half-whisper.

"I know," her Mom agreed again, letting Colette let out another round of quiet tears. "I know, Choupinette," her mother repeated, gently rubbing her back again, her arms tight around her.

Colette sniffled again, her emotions a tangled, swirling mess, and clung on tighter to her Mother. "I just...I just wish Max was here," she admitted in a broken whisper.v"He asked me if he should come home," she admitted softly.

Her mother’s hand ran gently up and down her back, still hugging Colette tight.

"What did you tell him?" she asked quietly.

Colette swallowed past the lump in her throat and breathed in shakily. "I told him to race. I told him I didn't want him to come home," she said shakily, more tears escaping her.

Her mother hummed quietly and hugged her a little tighter. "Why?" Her mother's voice was gentle and curious, no judgement and accusation to be found.

"Because I fell in love with a 12-year-old boy for whom racing was the most important thing in his life,” she answered, her voice soft. “Max has this...passion for it. This incredible love. And I promised myself then, that I was never going to be the one to take it from him," she explained softly. "I was never going to make him chose. Between me and racing."

And maybe that was also because for years...she had wondered if she was going to be the one of the two he would chose. 

Her mother was quiet behind her for a moment, only the soothing motion of her hand rubbing along Colette's back continuing.

And then her mother said, softly.

"You know he would chose you in a heartbeat, don't you?"

Colette buried her face further into her mother, her tears starting to flow again as she let her mother's words sink in.

Because she wanted to believe it. She really, really wanted to.

"He will never need to," she said simply. "He said ​​the same thing but…I would never take it away from him."

Her mother hummed again and tightened her arms around her a little.

"I know you wouldn't," she assured. "But he still wouldn't hesitate, love."

Colette took another shaky breath, trying to keep herself from completely falling to pieces just from the thought of it. It was true. She knew it deep in her bones. Max would drop everything to get to her, if she only asked. And it just made her feel like crying more.

"I just...I just miss him," she admitted in a sniffly voice, her nails digging in her mother's soft shirt.

Her mother's gentle hand was running over her hair again, trying to soothe her as best as she could. "I know, baby," she whispered. "You'll see him soon."

Colette huffed a breath against her mother’s chest, the thought both a comfort and a curse.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to crawl into his arms and just listen to him tell her everything was going to be okay, and believe every single word of it.

Another shaky inhale and exhale, and Colette's hands gripped her Mom's shirt, just to keep from completely falling apart.

It was all so overwhelming, with Max so far away, and just everything in general.

Her breath shuddered again when her mother's arms tightened around her once more, pulling her even closer to her chest, as if she was trying to protect her through sheer force of will.

Colette let her, burying her face in her Mom's soft chest and trying to hold it all together.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Clad in sea (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: It is not Harrenhal, what drives Daemon to the Gods Eye. It’s the memories of you and your daughter.

Warnings: ANGST. Suicide. Canon levels of violence. The afterlife. Guilt, suicidal thoughts. Harenhal’s induced nightmares ™

A/N: It’s angst but with a happy ending (Sort of) Come with me into a deep dive into Daemon’s mental torture. You only need to know the reader really loves the sea, and watch closely. Pay attention, everything has a reason.

As a young girl, you had always dreamed of the sea. There had been nothing you loved more than walking to the docks, and looking at the waves crushing under you, extending into the horizon.

It made you feel small, in the good sense. As if you were insignificant in the great scheme of things. The sea had been there when you had been born, and it would be there when you died. It would go on.

At night, you could still feel the waves under you, rocking your body. Sundrunk and deliriously happy, you always fell asleep in peace after spending your days in the beach.

The memory soothes you as you place your baby in front of you, watching her small body be rocked by the waves. She had felt so cold in your arms, and you had not dared embrace her in her last seconds, only hold her hand. Her stomach had been pierced by a sword, and moving her too much felt cruel.

You had never wanted your daughter to know pain. You had known it was an inevitable fact of life, but you had hoped she had more time.

Daemon had left. He had done something horrible, the men had said. Killed a boy. So now, they would kill the two of you and present your heads to him.

It sickened you, to imagine your beautiful daughter wandering the earth without a head. Of these animals desecrating her body, perhaps doing unspeakable things to you because of a war you had no interest in.

So you had picked her up and ran to the only place you had ever felt safe. And as the ocean welcomed you into her arms, turning you as cold as your daughter was, you could finally embrace her again.

You did not regret it. Not even as saltwater crushed your airways, and your lungs filled with water. Not even when you emerged, voice raspy with salt, and your daughter held against your chest, full of righteous fury.

There had been a girl once, with hair as dark as ink, and eyes full of constellations. Her lips had always been chapped, for her land had suffered a drought so long, they didn’t have a word for water. Instead, they called it Life.

The girl had a gift. Somehow, she always managed to find Life, wherever she went. It was no causality, her mother told her. Their God was taken with her, and gazed at her every time he could. Through the small ponds, the droplets of dew, the very waves crashing on the shore. She had to be careful because no matter how useful her gift, if she looked too much into her reflection, he might pull her in.

“Are you afraid?” Daemon had whispered, as the two of you laid in bed one night. The sheets were sticky with his spent and sweat, but both of you were too lazy to change them. Instead, you were carefully laid on your side, body curled against his, careful not to touch the pool of seed.

“Of what?” You had looked up at him, and Daemon had been distracted by your beauty. In the soft light of the eternal sunsets of Essos, you looked otherworldly. With your face shining with a light layer of sweat, and your neck and chest covered by his marks, you had to be a goddess.

You took pain like the best of his men. You looked much more beautiful than any of them had ever done.

“What?” You insisted, poking his ribs.

“Of dying?” He felt sick for even mentioning it. You were so alive, so vibrant in his arms, so full of life. As if aware of his thoughts, your hands went to cradle your stomach. Your pregnancy was still fairly new. It didn’t show yet, but his child was growing inside of you.

Daemon pressed his own hands over yours. You let him help cradle your child, and leaned back against him. The thought of you facing the birthing bed made him anxious, and he had to squeeze you to make sure you were still there.

His last memory of Westeros had been Aemma’s death. And while Essos had more advanced healing arts, and you were no Targaryen, he feared his seed might make the pregnancy harsher on you.

“I am of the sea, Daemon.” You had smiled at him, so happy it hurt to even recall it. “I was born from her, foam and blood. And to her, I shall return when I die. I do not fear death. There is no end in a circle.”

No end in a circle, you had said. But an Ouroboros died regardless. Daemon clutched the letter until it tore.

You had made truth of your promise. Somehow, while grievously wounded, you had managed to carry your daughter to the sea. In the soft sand, your footprints had never faltered. The two of you had made a path towards the foam, and disappeared into the water. Perhaps, sensing that if you left your bodies behind, they might have been desecrated. Or perhaps because you were a woman of your word.

The Gods knew what anguish you had suffered, watching your girl die. It was a pain no mother should have to withstand, and yet, you had had to because Daemon had inflicted it in Helaena to avenge the one inflicted on Rhaenyra.

A circle has no ending. He cursed the day he had thought stepping foot outside Essos was a good idea. Daemon should have never left you. The world was not a safe place, not with the reach of the Hightowers. You had not stood a chance.

They had come into the night, and made you watch as they murdered his daughter. Then, they tried to injure you. But somehow, you had managed to escape.

Broken. Bleeding. With a dead toddler in your arms, and perhaps a babe in your belly. Daemon could not recall the last time you were in your moonblood, before he left. Perhaps you had gotten it after. He would never get to know.

No one had been able to stop you. Not even the men who had hurt you so. They had been unable to find your bodies, lost in the waves. The sea had raged that night, mourning the loss of her daughters. No one could have survived that.

Still, hope blossomed inside his chest every time he thought of it. The feeling was paralyzing. It didn’t allow him to grief normally. He kept thinking the two of you may be alive somewhere, lost in the sea. That a fishing boat might have picked you up, and helped you hide.

Because if you were truly dead, Daemon would have felt it. He was certain of it. Caraxes, who had always been finely attuned to his sister, this other sea goddess, would have felt it too. He would have cried in the manner Syrax did, when Rhaenyra took to the birthing bed.

His dragon had a connection to you. He knew your touch, your voice from all others. Both of you had been born out of the sea. You had ridden him as many times as Daemon himself. At least he would have known.

But not a peep had been heard from Caraxes. Ever since they had arrived at Harrenhal, he seemed subdued, as if preparing to hibernate. Sedated. He no longer wanted to fly, no longer wanted Daemon near.

Daemon thought he would have known, but perhaps, he had been unworthy of it. And Caraxes sensed it. He knew it was all his fault.

Were you laying down, lulled to sleep by the songs of the seashells or alive somewhere mourning your daughter, it was all his fault. Daemon had not been aware that the price to pay for a son would be this steep. His two girls.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? They really thought women were worth less in Westeros.

The lack of Life had never been so intense. The drought had gotten worse, the crops withered, the few animals died. Desperation filled the girl. Her mother was getting old, and she was no longer able to partake in the long walks in search for a droplet of dew.

So one day, she walked to the shore and sat by, watching the waves. She breathed in, found her courage, and said: “I wish to speak to you.”

Daemon tosses and turns, fixing his pillows. The room is gloomy, no matter how many candles he has lit, and there is a strange draft that not even the brightest fire can fight.

He closes his eyes, feeling a sudden warmth behind them. If you were here, you would embrace him from behind, playfully pinning him into the bed. You would press your lips to his temple, and sing of lands long forgotten, a city underneath the sea. A city so great, the Gods had punished it by sinking it.

Your soft voice would soothe him into sleep, your arms holding him tight. Daemon can almost feel the weight of them against his waist, the warmth of your body against his. A sob gathers on his chest, but dies in his throat.

He has not cried since getting the news. Instead, he has been cursed with the easiest sleep of his life. Harrenhal is damp and gloomy, and Daemon doesn’t like at all the looks the witch gives him, but every time he closes his eyes, he is out like a light.

Your absence is not so acute, in a bed not his own. He can pretend you are home, safe. Or that you have gone out, siren that you are, for a midnight walk along the shore. In those nights, when the sea had been at its most violent, you had roused your daughter and took her to watch the sea.

“The sea gives and takes.” You had often said, standing in the docks with her, from enough distance that the harsh tides wouldn’t hurt you. “We must respect her. Remember that.”

You had taken her on other nights too. The two of you would roll around in the sand, play in the waves, until you exhausted yourself and both crawled into bed with him, hair still wet and smelling of salt.

Daemon swears he smells it — now. His daughter’s soap, and the sea, clinging to her hair and skin, her little toes cold, and pressing to his calves.

But when he opens his eyes, nothing is there. Just the lingering smell of saltwater.

These phantom touches both comfort and torture him. He can pretend both of you are there, or safe at home, but every time he opens his eyes, you are not.

Daemon dreams of the both of you every night. They are not nightmares. He is aware he is dreaming when he is in them, and getting to see your faces is bittersweet. He knows he will never see you anywhere else. The sea you had so loved has taken you, and he has nothing to mourn. Not a body, not a painting, not even your bones.

The dream is the same every night. It resembles a story you had once told him, and makes him wonder why his subconscious has chosen it, out of all the sea tales you had shared with him.

In the dream, you stand on the shore of Dragonstone. You are naked, with your hair loose over your shoulders. You hold your daughter, but she is not the age she had been when Daemon had left. Instead, she seems to be a baby again. Daemon cannot be sure because what you hold is a bundle of linens that you rock back and forth, and her face is never seen.

Your eyes are fixed on the horizon. You do not seem to notice him at first. The rocks that make up the beach dig on your bare feet, and the sea rages, hitting against your ankles with such strength you should fall over. You do not.

It makes Daemon nervous.

“What are you doing?” He always tries to convince you, not a night goes by where he doesn’t. “Come here, love. The sea is too dangerous tonight.”

There is a steel band around his chest, and it tightens when he sees you take a step further into the sea. He has this feeling something terrible is about to happen, that the next wave will hit you and drag you under, that it will drown you and his girl. That it will be the last.

But every night, you refuse to listen. You continue rocking the baby, eyes stubbornly set in the horizon. Your face gets the same pinched look it had gotten in life, when the two of you argued, and you refused to back down.

He had learnt to grovel by your side. He tries that, next.

“What are you doing? Please, love.” Daemon gets more desperate then because he tries to get closer to you and never quite manages. He had never been as fearless of the sea as you had been, and in the dream, the mere sight of the water caused him intense terror. “Please. What is it? We can talk about it, I can help. I can protect you.”

Daemon knows it is a lie. He has failed at that once, already. And you seem to know it too because it is to the promise of protection that you turn.

“I can’t.” And your voice sounds old, full of wind and salt. It shatters his soul. You are slipping through his fingers once more. The thought is unbearable. “Our daughter needs to eat.”

Your arms open, and a miracle occurs. The island, so dry and so infertile, the jagged rocks that make up the ground, the sulfuric smell, they all disappear. Suddenly, the world is brighter, there are trees and flourishing bushes, the crops are thriving. The air smells of fruit, and sun, sweet as the first days of summer.

It only serves to terrify him further.

“I’m afraid.” Daemon admits, voice pitched low. It’s not something he would ever say while awake, but he fears so much for your safety, it slips out. When it does, he finds the bravery to rush to your side. “I don’t want anything to happen to the two of you.”

“Don’t be scared, silly.” You laugh, and turn to face him. Daemon reaches forward, attempting to take the babe from you. The blanket opens in the process, but instead of a baby, a rush of seawater falls out.

When he lifts his gaze to meet yours, horrified, you disappear under his hands in the exact same manner.

And Daemon screams, but no sound comes out. Tries to hold on, but water slips through his fingers every time.

Her mother sees it all. Her girl leans in, as if to kiss her reflection, and tips over. The water swallows her whole.

She runs, then. But when she reaches the pond, her fingers only grasp water.

No one in the village believes her. They forget the girl easily, busy with their newfound prosperity. The place blooms with new life.

There has to be something in this place. Perhaps it’s the witch. Perhaps it’s the curse. Daemon had never believed in ghost stories, and he had once mocked Rhaenyra’s concerns over Harrenhal, but now he has the same doubts.

His grip on reality feels flimsy at best. He had spent an entire afternoon chasing his daughter through the halls, convinced he could hear her laughter and footsteps in the corridors.

Simon Strong had jerked him out of that one, asking him to hear the inane disputes of the rest of the Riverlands. His perplexed face at Daemon’s insistence he could hear a child running around had vexed him to no end.

Another day, Daemon had been in a meeting with the lords when he had heard you singing. It was that damn story again, about the girl, and the ponds… He had been lost into his own thoughts, and ended up insulting them because he couldn’t focus.

The witch has taken to looking at him with pity. Does she walk through dreams, too? Can she see you, haunting every body of water near?

It’s late at night, and Daemon cannot sleep. He keeps hearing footsteps, and laughter. Water runs near, an intolerable murmur. He gets up, without bothering to put on his robes, and decides to investigate.

Harrenhal’s corridors are dark and empty. His footsteps echo, explaining the noise. Someone must be walking somewhere. But the water? There is nothing beyond a leak in the roof.

Daemon has a terrible headache. The infernal noise water makes is constantly in his ears, even when he plugs them. It chases him, flowing and ebbing, but never disappears.

Perhaps some fresh air might do him good. He doesn’t dare ask Alys for any further concoction, less she is the one poisoning him. He walks to the courtyard, instead.

As he crosses the dilapidated training grounds, Daemon sees you. His heart lurches. You are as beautiful as the day he married you. You wear your Valyrian robes, and hold your daughter’s hand. She is clad in a miniature set of the same robes.

Daemon rubs his eyes. It cannot be. You are not supposed to be here. Why would you be here, dressed like that? There are runes traced in blood in your forehead, and in your lips. You are fresh out of a wedding.

A flash of jealousy makes him clench his fists. Have you betrayed him? Faked your death to marry another lover? You have come to taunt him, surely. You had survived the attack, and so had your daughter, and this was a way to punish him for leaving you unprotected.

Burning with rage, he walks after the two of you. You seem calm, talking to your daughter in a low voice, and making her giggle. The two of you walk, carefree, through the Godswood.

You look so normal. Like you always did. Solid. There is nothing in you of the vengeful sea goddess that haunts his dreams and disappears under his hands. He doesn’t dare call out either of your names, for fear of alerting you he is on your tail. Daemon wants to see the bastard that you are meeting.

He has suffered all these nights, thinking you dead, and here you are, alive! You dare flaunt yourself, after taking his daughter and causing him immense pain.

“You bitch.” Daemon mumbles under his breath. He follows you outside the castle’s walls, noticing you seem familiar with the terrain. You do not pause even once, while he has to stumble over branches and dried leaves that cover deadly holes made by horse’s hooves.

Once you reach the hill overlooking the Gods Eye, you pick up your daughter, and do not hesitate to make your way down to the lake. Daemon curses under his breath. He doesn't’t dare do the same. His footsteps are nowhere near as secure as yours are while carrying a toddler down a hill.

Instead, he hides behind some trees and watches. Will your lover meet you here?

But no man steps out of the shadows. You set your daughter down and undress her, tenderly. You fold her robes, and remove yours. Then both of you walk into the Gods Eye, until the water swallows you whole.

Daemon rushes to the shore then, nearly twisting his ankle in the process. There are no robes and no footsteps in the mud. There is only the pale moon, winking at him from the surface of the water.

The girl is now a woman. She walks out of the sea one day, carrying her daughter in her arms, and hugs her own mother tight.

“I have come to visit. I wish to meet my friends too, but she is too little to take with me. Would you mind staying with her?”

Her mother, enchanted by the return of her daughter, cannot help but agree. She imagines the afternoon, spent coddling the new granddaughter.

“You have to promise me something.” The woman begs of her. “No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you must never unwrap her.”

Daemon waits for thirteen days in Harrenhal before his nephew comes face him. He marks the passing of each day through carving a mark into the heart tree at sunset.

You loved sunsets, when alive. You loved to feel the warmth on your skin, and the light reflecting on your face. Your mood had always improved when spring began, and Daemon had fond memories of days spent rolling in the sand, kissing each other until it was difficult to tell if you were flushed because of the sun or the kisses.

Aemond shows up on the fourteen day, after a moon spent terrorizing the Riverlands. His nephew had turned into a petty King, using fire and blood against anyone who stood on his path.

How plebeian. To think he had in his grasp the last beast that had seen the conquest, and he used her to burn fields and peasants. It showed the boy was still green, drunk in his newfound power.

His behavior was unbecoming of a Targaryen Prince. He treated Vhagar as if she were a mere weapon, and not the source of their power. Dragons deserved more respect than that.

Aemond doesn’t come alone. Behind him rides Alys, the witch of Harrenhal herself. The witch’s belly is swollen with child. Daemon wonders if she is fulfilling her own prophecy. Why else the fierce woman he had met during his first stay at the castle remain by his nephew’s side?

Perhaps, she knows she has to be his so the Prince who was promised is born after the extinction of the dragons. It shall not come from his line, but maybe from the one that starts with the babe in her belly.

Daemon has come to understand that he has his own destiny to fulfill too. He was never meant to have you, he realizes. You were a daughter of the sea, made from blood and foam. Daemon, instead, had been born out of fire and blood. Water and fire never mixed, and in another lifetime, they might have never had.

He had been meant for Rhaenyra, Alys had told him once. Made of flames, to burn together. But his love for you had been so strong it had allowed to defy his fate.

Aemond circled twice around Harrenhal, and then brought Vhagar down in the outer ward. Caraxes, as if sensing his rider’s unease, hissed a few flames. Daemon patted his flank, trying to soothe him. It wasn’t time yet. It couldn’t happen here.

Alys got down from Vhagar’s back, aided by her lover. When she was safely away, Aemond turned to face him.

“Nuncle, I hear you have been seeking us.”

“Only you.” Daemon had never been seeking Alys. He liked the witch enough to spare her, despite the rotten seed that had taken residence in her womb. A bastard babe was no threat to him. “Who told you where to find me?”

“My lady,” Aemond said, proudly. “She saw you in a storm cloud, in a mountain pool at dusk, in the fire we lit to cook our suppers. She sees much and more, my Alys. You were a fool to come alone.”

The witch had probably come to see if he fulfilled his destiny. It was important to her, to keep balance between the threads of fate. Daemon doubted that Aemond knew the witch was weaving with his thread too. In bringing him here, Alys had doomed him. She knew as Daemon did that both of them would die today.

“Were I not alone, you would have not come.” If Aemond was anything, it was a Hightower rat. A coward. He would face his death scared, unlike Daemon. He had made his peace with it a long time ago. You were dead. His daughter was dead. He had no further reason to live.

“Yet you are, and here I am. You have lived too long, nuncle.” Aemond tells him. Does he see, too? This twisted mirror of himself, thirty years his younger, and yet, he knows it. Men that defy fate never live too long afterward.

“On that much we agree.” Daemon smiles, wryly. He had led a good life. Nine and forty years, and he had known it all. Even love. Especially love.

Grief never took it away. It only made the tendrils wrapped around his heart into spears, that dug in deep, and never let go.

Daemon purposefully didn’t chain himself to his saddle, so it would be easy to jump. He took the higher ground, pushing Caraxes upwards. His beloved beast. He hoped that this gave Caraxes a fighting chance.

Vhagar was much slower, due to her size. She flew wide, taking her rider over the waters of the Gods Eye.

It was a perfect summer day. The sun was setting, in the manner you had so loved in life. It tinged the water a soft gold. The usual violent currents were calm. Everything around Daemon looked warm, and inviting. The golden hour, as you called it, was upon them.

Vhagar didn’t see them, but she was rapidly approaching. Daemon ordered Caraxes to dive by Aemond’s blind side, slamming against Vhagar with such force he feared he might fall. His dragon let out a piercing shriek, and the old whore answered him with her own.

The two dragons battled against each other, throwing flames and bites. The heat was unbearable, and Daemon had to duck nearly parallel to Caraxes so he was not burnt by Vhagar’s flames.

It was as he leaned in that he saw it. The water. It showed both of the dragons grappling against each other, falling while locked on a deadly embrace. It showed the fire, and the abundant blood falling from them. But it also showed you.

You, radiant in your wedding robes, swimming lazy circles. You, with your arms extended, as if hoping to catch something. Catch him, Daemon realized.

He looked up. Alys was a small figure in the highest tower of Harrenhal. It should have been impossible to see anything from this distance, yet Daemon could swear he saw her smile.

At that moment, he understood. All of it. A circle.

Daemon jumped from his saddle.

As soon as the mother opened the wrapped bundle, a rush of seawater came out. If there was once a baby, she was now gone.

Yet, miraculously, a young woman appears from the sea, fully grown. She is naked, covered only by her hair, and of a beauty so exquisite not a single mortal would dare gaze upon her.

“Fear not, grandmother.” She says, kindly. Her hands against the woman’s cheeks feel wet. Salt from the sea, and the old woman’s tears. “I am not a child any longer, that’s all. But you will never lack for drink as long I live.”

And the young woman faces the setting sun. And slowly, she begins to dance.

Lady Shella walked the halls of Harrenhal, in silence. It had been a long time since there was anyone here she could talk to. Her husband was dead, and her daughter long married. She hardly ever visited anymore, busy with running her own household.

The servants never made for good company. They rotated far too often for her to grow attached to any of them. They always complained of footstep and laughter in the hallways, and mysterious pools of water that no one knew where they came from.

Shella knew. She wasn’t about to tell them, of course. What was the point of owning a haunted castle if you couldn’t use it to scare others?

She made her way to the highest tower in Harrenhal. Her liege lords, the Tullys, had declared for the King in the North. They were kin to him. Shella remembered little Catelyn Tully, with her copperish hair. In her youth, she had been stunning, but Shella knew she must have lost all her luster by now.

If not from having five children, from widowhood. It had sucked all the beauty from Shella, after all. She deeply missed her Walter. They hadn’t been a match of love, but of convenience. She had grown to love him regardless. Years do that, she supposed.

Shella didn’t want to lose Harrenhal. It was the last tie she had to her husband. Inside this castle, they had made their home. They had raised children. They had been deliriously happy.

But Shella had little choice. Her scouts had seen Lannister banners less than half a day away. If she didn’t surrender the castle, they would take it by force. She didn’t have enough men, or time to ask her liege for help. Resisting would only mean death.

She wanted to see it one last time, though. One last sunset. One last trip with her ghosts.

Shella made her way to the window, and waited for the sun to start lowering. As the Gods Eye turned gold, laughter began to be heard in the hallways. Rushed footsteps turning corners, little bells ringing.

“… Daemon! Don’t!” The woman laughed.

“Higher, Daddy, higher!” A girl shrieked, voice pitched high with happiness. It made Shella’s heart ache. She reminded her of her girl.

“Come on, the two of you. We are late.” The voice was deeper, more commanding. And they were. A bit late, perhaps because spring was just starting, and the days were turning longer.

Nothing could be seen, beyond slight depressions on the grass. The marks of boots running alongside bare feet.

But for a second, as the sun turned the Gods Eye an angry orange, Shella saw them. A family of three, their little girl held between the parents, jumping into the lake. All shrieking in laughter.

Prince Daemon Targaryen, his lady wife and his daughter, reunited in death like they weren’t able to be in life. Yes, Shella thought, she could not wait to see what Tywin Lannister made of these ghosts.

.

.

.

A/N: Hello! If you are chilean like me (I really should shift to spanish for this, and I will) Si son chilenos como yo, la historia que usé para dividir el fic es una que reconocen. O al menos ligeramente. Es la historia de la Huenchula y el Millalobo, papás de la Pincoya, con un poco de adaptación para que sea fácil de entender y calce con lo que estaba escribiendo.

[demilypyro]

I have a long history of self-hatred.

Hating myself is what used to drive me. The only thing on my mind was... fixing myself somehow. Finding a way to not be so hateable anymore.... And I've found that that was wrong. Because every time I failed, every time I made a mistake, lost a friend, said the wrong thing, I would just hate myself more. And I've found that while regretting your mistakes can put you back on the right path, hating yourself for them keeps you exactly where you are. I couldn't move forward, because I didn't think I deserved to.

Something happened recently that shocked me. A let's player I'd always admired got cancelled. I'd looked up to this person for years, I admired their work ethic, their personable vibe, and especially their ability to keep their nose clean. One reason to hate myself was because I couldn't stay away from controversy as well as this person could... so much for that, right? I've gotten a lot of shit flung at me, but at least I've never trended on twitter... But in a way, that opened a new door for me. It's like they were dragged down to my level. If even that person I admired had such big flaws, maybe having flaws wasn't a reason to hate myself. And if I got so much out of content by a flawed person, maybe what I do can still be worth something even if it's made by a flawed person like me.

At risk of getting even more corny, I recently played Like a Dragon: Infinite Wealth on stream, and I cried through the ending. But maybe not on the scenes other people were crying over. What had me crying, spoilers, was the scene at the end where main character Ichiban.... forgives his villain. This is a man who has wronged him, a man who set basically all the events of the story in motion, a man who caused Ichiban and a lot of other people in the story a lot of pain and suffering... but Ichiban just doesn't hate him. The thesis of the game seems to be that no matter what you've done, no matter how far you fall, you can always start over and do better next time. And that's what I cried over. If Ichiban could forgive someone this horrible, someone whose mistakes are gargantuan next to mine, then surely he'd forgive me too. And if he could forgive me, then surely I must have something to offer. I felt like he was encouraging me in my efforts to be better.

So I'm trying to be kinder to myself. I can't fix my mistakes, and I can't get rid of all my faults, but I can dust myself off and try to do better next time, and not hate myself when I fail. I can hold fast in the belief that I'm doing the best I can, and that I'll be forgiven by people who recognize my effort. I can believe that being flawed is not the same as being worthless.

[wispythreads]

It's interesting seeing the dichotomy between Mordin and Garrus while trying to recover Jack. Garrus immediately clocks that this is an extortion rig and that the warden's motives aren't as pure-of-heart, good-for-the-galaxy oriented as he claims, but still believes that these people deserve what they get for being scum of the earth. Even with no proof that everyone here has done something worth their imprisonment. Even after the warden's heel-turn attempt to imprison Shepard.

Mordin meanwhile is just absolutely horrified at the level of cruelty surrounding him and believes in the possibility that anything disturbed these prisoners may express while we're here could've been a direct result of their treatment at this facility.

I just find it interesting since Mordin has been so-far described as cold, calculating, and ruthless. He (seemingly, at this point, it's very clear later that this is not really the case no matter how much he wants it to be) has no regrets in his part of continuing a horrible genetic disease that is slowly but surely dooming a species to extinction. But he clearly does have a lot of empathy, wants actual good done rather than theoretical good.

Meanwhile Garrus has always been a hot-headed renegade that has been very loud about how he wants good done in the world, even if it isn't done the right way. But at the same time, he very quietly follows the structure and abides by the rules. He follows the idea that the ones in charge are doing the right thing. It takes his own background knowledge of a situation and being physically or metaphorically blocked by the authority from doing what he believes is right in order for him to not just instinctively believe in it. Idk I'm just rambling again.

[misojunnie]

COVET (trailer) 𖣂

yang jungwon & riki nishimura.

the first installation of fright night.

click here ^

how far would you go for love?

summary: your boyfriend jungwon has always been a kind soul. he refused to hurt a spider, much less a human, but when a new, younger, attractive admirer enters your life, something in him changes. as jealousy begins to consume him, and the competition between the two boys ensues, you watch your life turn upside down.

pairing: bf!jungwon vs. admirer!riki x fem!reader

genre: psychological thriller, horror, love triangle, established relationship au

warnings: violence, dark and disturbing behavior, substance use, murder, slow burn (only gets scary at the end) no mature themes! enha's behavior and personalities are not a reflection of reality, it's just a story

join the taglist! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @theothernads @adoredbyjay @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee

covet is out! read it here

more under the cut!

Jungwon had been watching you.

In his heart, he knew it was wrong. He had never not trusted you before, and he wasn’t sure what was happening to him. He was uneasy, anxious, and upset. Yesterday, the two of you had lunch and he barely touched his food. That night, he didn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like guys hadn’t pursued you before. In high school, boys would hit on you at parties, in class, even on your dates. He’d tell them to scram, and then you’d laugh about it together afterward. It had never bothered him when other guys were interested in you; if anything, it made him more proud of himself for being with you. In fact, he wasn’t even certain that this particular man was interested in you at all.

That was until he saw you having dinner together.

You were sitting in the corner booth at the restaurant you worked at. Through the foggy glass, Jungwon could see his face, smiling. His eyes crescent moons as he chuckled at something you said. Neither of you were eating, just speaking. He couldn’t tell if you were smiling back at him, and he wanted to know desperately.

When he saw you get up and go to the kitchen, he checked the time on his watch. Your shift was over, which meant he needed to get a move on, and he shoved his hands in his pockets before speeding in the direction of your shared apartment.

He felt horrible about what he had just done. He knew he was your boyfriend, but watching you without you knowing felt like a crime. He walked with a pit in his stomach, anxious to beat you home. He didn’t want you to know he had been acting strangely.

He trusted you. He trusted you with his entire heart, as he had been for the past four years, without regret.

But could he trust the people around you?

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki had been thinking about you all day.

He wasn’t sure what it was that attracted him, but he found you interesting. What he liked the most was that you were genuine. He had a good eye for superficial people, and you weren’t one of them. You meant everything that came out of your mouth.

Riki had been a heartbreaker in high school, and he planned on being the same in college. Not a week went by where his breakups didn’t scandalize the school, and that was just how he liked it. Some people thought he was a womanizer; he disagreed. He thought that attraction was power, and people should use it to their advantage.

The truth was, Riki wasn’t fond of men. He thought they were liars. Maybe he and Jungwon had something in common in that regard. He liked that women were honest, open with their emotions and intentions. Men hid their motivations, hid their secrets, hid everything. Riki was an open book. He told every girl whose heart he’d broken that it would end up badly. And when it inevitably went wrong, he said I told you so.

And because Riki didn’t like men, he wanted to take things from them. When he found a man he didn’t trust, a man he knew was rotten, he robbed him of his worth. His happiness. His girlfriend. And he was going to do it again here, he was determined.

He didn’t trust your boyfriend. He may seem perfect on paper, but Riki could tell there was something rotting beneath the surface. Everyone had something to hide. And he was going to expose whatever your boyfriend was hiding.

It’s what he always did.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

a/n: hello my lovelies! I made a trailer for this, and I’m planning to make one of all the projects in this series <3 I hope you all enjoy and you’re looking forward to covet being released! coming very soon xoxo

[tiredsmashbros]

and so we are gathered here today, to hear TSB's horrible 1k sobbing {LONG}

well guys, it's been officially a week later since the end of the "birthday party" event. crazy it already flew by fast but formerly something i really wanted to say from the very start: thank you.

quite frankly i know i could've just made a simple thank you text as a normal person does, but i wanted to really to show my gratitude by giving something nice. and that something nice was the discord server until... my chaotic brain decided to make a daily week event inspired by scott cawthon UIGHJDSXUKGJH but otherwise- i hope everyone enjoyed tuning in everyday and i've personally been having a blast talking and hanging out with everyone since.

now, i got my secret final card up my sleeve that i've been wanting to do. was to give back something to some specific folks. amazing folks. folks that one: were my introduction to this amazing smg4 community, and two: friends i've made that has genuinely changed my life for the better, and three: been the greatest support i could've ever asked. it's still insane to me that i knew my life would be changed the moment i clicked on a youtube video of someone yapping about a specific blue and purple character from a gmod meme show and if they would work canonical. following up with me just 3 hrs later my first fanart doodle for myself. with just recently that moment being so happy i reached 100 followers on here... if you would've told me four months later that it'll exceedingly grow 10x i would laugh at you and walked away... you guys are insane in the best way possible it has scared me to death, but never have i done better improving my skills and mental health.

and with that, i give to thy, my absolute wholeheartedly appreciation:

@theartistisme43 you were the, if not one of, my first exposure to the community on twitter when i was looking for fanart on day one. i remember vividly being so captivated by your smg4 au by implementing sign language to your smg4 rigs. especially cause despite i've been meaning to relearn sign language for years, it has a special place in my heart for personal reasons. i remember being so obsessed with your animations replaying it again and again and adoring your art style so much. i've been {and still am} really shy expressing my feelings but seriously man i genuinely love your work so, so, SO much. it's still insane to me how you get the unfortunate rope under your feet by some nasty ass fools on twitter, but ong, they're just so jealous our your gmod rigging talent and storytelling. seriously man keep going!! always excited to see what you cooking up next! 💛

@ominus-potato + @bluestrawberrybunny adding you both together because ong it will feel weird to me if i didn't. of course, i am a fanfic addict once i get into a new fixation... and you two have been feeding me graciously. ominus, i love and get inspired by your fics SO MUCH it's insane to me how i'm alive after reading a new piece you've made /pos. you were also my introduction to marware and i've stayed since even if it was started of as a joke UIGHJV. strawberry i remember discovering you on artfight but exploded when i found out you were the creator of the apprenticeship au fic. i was shy to read it but i've been wanting to give you something before artfight started i finally caved in to the lore and my only regret is not getting into it sooner. i love both of ya'lls writing styles so much it's inspired me to genuinely get back into writing fanfics. thank you both so much and please continue writting!!!! i get so excited every now and again going to bed reading them. 💛🌈

@aquaproductions and speaking about artfight... yoU! i remember discovering you actually from trap sanchez's smg4 map BECAUSE THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I WAS PAUSING TO SEE EVERY PEICE TO THEN EXPLODE WHEN YOU SHOWED THEM AT THE END HIUGJHFEDS i LOVE you style so much and god when i got the message from you on artfight i actually fucking screamed. even getting that attacked for you has never once failed to make me smile. i've overcome it by now,, but i genuinely was really shy because you are just so cool and i'm still going crazy the fact your a fan of the boys LIKE BROOOOOOOOOO IUGHJDSXYUJ. ahem- anyways... kEEP BEING SLAY AQUA!!!!! 💛💕💛

@coralalala64 + @cookiepopcat ah yes another duo bc im trying to shorten this but cause you both played a similar role for me. you two, i kid you not, are the first folks i followed while joining the smg4 community. i am in love with your traditional work sm corala i am just obsessed with comics and seeing someone was making 34 comics just made me jump in glee. additionally i love the c r e a t u r e gag sO MUCH T&*YGUIHJK. cookie in general i adore your artstyle so much and especially how you add those little sparks on the hair GUHH ITS SO CUTEEEE!!! i became more of a bigger fan from your shark au and now a fan of ur new au with 3! so excited to see what you guys got cooking up next!!! 🌿💛

@zurkton i know we don't get the opportunity to talk much more but i seriously wanted to feature you in as my appreciation from the insane support you've been giving me. seeing your comments make me smile in glee and even a bonus seeing something new you make. i adore your gmod style of these silly mario recolors BUT SRSLY MAN UR OWN STYLE IS SO GOOD AND SEEING U MADE AN OC FINALLY GUH ITS BEEN IN MY TO DO LIST FOR SOOOOOOO LONG. JUST GUH I LOVE UR WORK SO MUCH PLEASE CONTINUE BEING AWESOME AND I HOPE WE CAN GET MORE TIME TO BE ABLE TO YAP MORE!!! /GEN 💛🍳

@clownypillar oh yeah. you bet your buggy ass i added you on here. cause bRO i was surprised to find someone else who loves bugs it made my little me so happy. and i still have not gotten over that smg4 cult of the lamb au you made since, i love that game sm seeing that on my feed just made me immediately become a fan. doesn't help the fact blue/silas says really amazing and silly things about you in our talks i was so shy finding the right opportunity to try and talk to you qnq,, and when the opportunity did come up {bot issue} I GOT EVEN MORE NERVOUS IHKJFEGDSXUGJH /POS i love your humor sm man you are so fun and i apologize silas has gotten you under the theory trap sigh... but other than that i need to get back into my retired bug fixation and find more ways to make fun of you as we yap and appreciate dr pepper 💛🌈🥤🐛

@libbytwq i still remember the day i got that tsb piece from you on artfight and literally screaming and running around my room in glee seeing my silly man in a silly looney pose. seriously man, ever since i saw that i immediately became a fan of you. i just am a sucker for your style man /srs. hECK i remember struggling so hard to pICK someone to fight back bc i genuinely loved all your ocs and wanted to do everyone- i also find it sO funny and ig coincidental theres so many like coincidences with you??? ong i need to say this or im going to continue going crazy- like ong libby {oc} reminds me one of my trusted friends oc and brings me back to my 2016 nostalgia days, i actually have an oc name lore who has a similar hair style as smgl:e, AND THE FACT WITH OUR SMG4 OCS LORE SIMILARITIES LIKE BRO WE LIVE IN A MATRIX OR SOME SHIT THIS MAKES MY BRAIN EXPLODE AAAAAIOYUIGHJEFDSXZ /J but in all seriousness bro, i love talking with you and seeing your silly work so much. i know you're gonna be makin awesome things bro and you bETTER WIN THOSE MARCHING BAND COMPETITIONS IUGJHEDS 👑🍔🌈💛

@its-a-me-mango mango mango mango... YOU BRITISH FREAK- anyways. you seriously were one of my favorite artist when i joined and ngl i was absolutely terrified talking to you to the point i legit thought you hated me at some point IOKJEHFDWS heCk getting that attack from you on artfight blew my fucking mind bc i was screaming over the tari duck since af was the only place i dropped the tari love interest and i didnt realized it until i looked at your page that you were THE MANGO... bro i actually fucking exploded you have no fucking idea how happy i was 🌈. like you are one srsly one of my favorite inspirations man i love your artwork, your humor, and just everything man. i'm still going internally insane that im talking to you sm bro and the memes we mAKE BRO IM UYIGJHFDWSXZYUITJG THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A SILLY MANGO HORSE DOCTOR DUDE, YOU ARE SO COOL, INCREDIBLE, AND MAN WHERE IS THAT SNOWTRAPPED 1K YOU PROMISED /J i could go on a bit more but im literally exploding just writing this rn so now imma just lalalalalalalala 🍔💛🌈🥭🐴

@josiekatxd / josiekatxd jo. you are one insane creature /pos. LIKE DAMN MAN YOU DRAW SO FAST IT WAS WILD GETTING ALL THE AMAZING TSB GIFTS AND GETTING TO KNOW MORE OF UR OC 7 JUST BECAME A MORE JOYOUS RIDE!!!! i love your work so much man and the amount of support i've gotten from you makes me so so SOOSOSOSOS HAPPY ITS OVERWHELMING /POS. i enjoy talking with you man {even if i may be slow at timess..} pLEASE dont be afraid to send me smth, more yummy art or MEMEMSSSSS i appreciate anything and everything!!! this was honestly such a joy getting to draw 7 again she's been stuck in my head for so long hELPPP /SILLY 🌿⭐️💛

@rr3d2y AKO!!!!! YOU!!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY MAN EVER SINCE THAT ATTACK YOU MADE FOR ME FROM ARTFIGHT I HAVE BEEN A DIEHARD FAN SINCE. I WENT ABSOLUTELY INSANE OVER IT SO MUCH I HAD TO SHARE IT WITH MY IRL FRIENDS IT MADE ME SO HAPPY. EVEN MORE HOW YOU ACTUALLY IMPLEMENT MY INTERESTS EVERY TIME YOU ATTACKED??? LIKE HELLOOOO??????? AND DAWKO??????? AND JUST UR OC IN GENERAL I LOVE HER SO MUCH BROOOO IUYGJHEFWDCSXZUYHKJ EDWSHJDCS LIKE DUDE I HAD NO IDEA HOW MUCH I COULD WRITE A FULLBLOWN ESSAY UNTIL YOU BARGED IN WITH YUMMY ART EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. YOU SPOIL ME SO MUCH AKO YOU ARE INSANELY INCREDIBLE AND SUCH A JOY TO TALK TO AND BE SILLY WITH. IT MADE ME SO HAPPY TO FIND SOMEONE WHO SHARES MY INTERESTS FROM THE START AND I STILL GO CRAZY EVERY TIME ANY OF IT IS MENTIONED. WHETER ITS SMG4, DAWKO, CG5, FAIRYOFFPARENTS, SONIC, WOLVERINE UYIGJHEFDSCXUIGJH IT ALL MAKES ME JUMP UP AND DOWN KICKING MY FEET MAN. I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY IM A BIG FAN AKO. I APPRECIATE EVERY SINGLE 1 MILLION PERCENT AND ADORE YOUR SUPPORT SO MUCH. THANK YOU AKO THE GREAT!!!! LIFETIME SUPPLY OF CHOCOLATE MILK FOR YOU!!!!!!! 🍫🥛💛🌈🍔💕

@radiantrevolt i know your not in the smg4 community whatsoever let alone know anything but i srsly meant it that receiving your support was such a big deal to me man. i never expected you to join the server but it genuinely made me feel more secure knowing i got you right my side just like old times. your support means the world to me man even if i suck as explaining or expressing that. you genuinely mean a lot to me man and the fact your still sticking around if still mind boggling to me evermore. thank you ander for staying by my side and willing to do so even at a space your unfamiliar with. being able to talk to you again has been such a joyride 💛💛💛💛🌈🐈‍⬛

and lastly...

these two freaks...

@strange0-0storm + @bluesbox... honestly... i owe you two a lot. genuinely. storm i remember you specifically when i first started acknowledging the smg4 community bc of how recognizable smg8 was on tumblr and immediately finding you to be so cool. so cool in fact, I WAS TOO SHY TO INTERACT TYIGHJFEDS. i LOVE smg8 so much and getting to see your other ocs such as jessee, cold cash, spamton... 8YIUGFEDSU J ITS JUST SO COOL AND HOLY FUCK MAN I LOVE YOUR ART SO FUCKING MUCH. I AM STILL FUCKING OBSESSED WITH THE TSB PIECE FROM ARTFIGHT MAN VDCXZUYJHGF ITS JUST SO PERFECT I CAN GO FUKING GO OFF AGAIN IHUGFJEDS but in all seriousness man, thank you so much for having the courage to respond to my lipbite comic, to me having the courage to follow you back and interact with you more, to giving me the courage again to join ur server, and the courage to say yes to watching popee with you and silas. finn you have no idea how much your silly words have an impact on me you make me so nervous in the most positive silliest way you have no idea how genuine happy i was being in that call for the very first time. even tho i know how quiet and anxious i was from the start, it was cause i was so shy and nervous bc man it was you! YOU!!!! you're such a fucking awesome guy finn i want you to seriously never forget that!!!! silas, thank you for even talking to me. hell, even after finn left to sleep we stayed and yapped for few more hours. i was never expecting that outcome ever in my life due to past experiences, and im so glad to the earth and back that it did come out as it did. i love talking to you man, i love seeing your work so much, and adore and appreciate to the fullest all the gifts you made me. thank you even more for getting me into the great gatsby and returning my hidden sherlock fixation back to light. i appreciate it way more that i can ever express it man. whether it may us talking about our day, silly nonsense, or me bullying you /j, it makes me so happy. and so grateful i can call you and finn my friends. you guys seriously helped me get out of my darkest angst shell i've had caged inside myself for the past, i didnt think i would ever escape from let alone actually be able to heal from. i didn't think i could ever be the happy ever again. like guys, i look forward to every week getting to get on a call with you guys so much its honestly my favorite activity/event of the week. i know im just silly guy i don't ever show my sappy self ever to ya'll but i mean it wholeheartedly ya'll helped me out so much more than you guys could ever imagine. i love you both so much i just wanna pick you two up and throw you into a canon so we could all go to disney world together and be just be silly. thank you finn, thank you silas 💛🤍💙🍔🍟🥤

i could honestly continue yapping but i was not expecting this to take longer than i was originally expecting so imma just end it here for now. i do want to thank everyone in the smg4 community for your continuous support. the amount of appreciation and love i get is still insane for me to grasp and i adore every single piece of giftart i've ever received. never did i expect to grow this big let alone meet such incredible and talented people ever in my life. i genuinely love all of you guys. thank you so much and onwards to more silliness!!! 🍔🌈 ⛅️🌿

[applestorms]

i love near so goddamn much. i finally read the c-kira and a-kira post-canon one shots all the way through last night and AAAAAAAAA my heart. nate river 🫵🫵🫵

c-kira in particular hits me hard bc you can really see that he's still reeling from the events of the main story. it’s a very specific era of near that’s so horribly awkward and insecure about his place in the world, about his role as L, and has so very few people left behind to support him-- really just lidner, rester, and gevanni. so much of that story is about near struggling to figure out who he is and who he wants to be in the wake of Everything, scrambling around in the shadows of all these false gods and blown up egos, trying to grow up and be a Person in the smoking remains of all these people who killed themselves with their own hubris. i mean, just look at this page:

LOOK AT THIS. near is almost shockingly expressive in this story, his grief and regret is fucking Palpable in a way that you very rarely see with a guy like him. it really gets to me that this is the story where near actually opens up about his mixed feelings surrounding the original L, about the interview he held where he picked near & mello out to be his two successors, and all while hiding himself within these massive card towers that you only see to be these giant L's at the end-- a kid barely out of his teens already getting dwarfed by the enormity of the history he is expected to continue and represent. the winner of the game who's only prize is the legacy he now holds on his shoulders, the grief he is cursed with as the only one left behind. this kid barely has anyone now, never even got the chance to truly, fully know what he lost in the first place, these all-powerful figures that have dictated every inch of his life from the moment he stepped foot in that damn house.

and i mean, goodness. what did we expect? i can talk all i want about the cinematic parallels of light & L as opposites, but look at near & mello in literally every piece of official art-- near truly loses his other half when mello dies, and you can just Feel the discomfort, the deep-seated, underlying imbalance in his soul through this shit.

a-kira near, on the other hand, has had the time to grow a bit more at ease with himself, but he still gets to me in a slightly different way. i cannot emphasize enough how utterly fucking perfect the decision to make his hair longer is-- for so simple of a detail, it really sums up so much about his character. this version of an older near feels like a guy who's been stuck outside of time for ages, barely even noticing the constant shifts of the outer world as he holes himself up in his room, hardly aware of the way that his own body stretches and grows and changes with each passing day. doing his job, all just for a bit of entertainment. there is still that distinctly privileged, childish part of him that hides in his forts of toys and makes whatever demands he pleases, but it's more smoothed over, more exhausted, more Done.

he's packed away the grief by this point. dealt with it properly? not necessarily. but the wound isn't as raw now so he can set it aside to be ignored or looked over more easily, focus on the things that he wants to. blow up his toys when they don't meet his standards.

i strikes me as important that near's view on the new kira's shifts so much over the course of even just these two little stories. in the c-kira story, near is so Quick to shit on the new guy as fast as possible, literally snarking him into submission with the fear of his presence alone until he writes his own name down. we never see this "cheap" kira, this pathetic fake that couldn't possibly stand up to the original. (projecting a little there, nate?) he's barely more than a panel or two of hands, and then he disappears from the story forever.

in a-kira though, you get something a little more desperate, a little more hungry-- near really fucking wants to meet this new guy, purely for the sake of talking to him, and is a lot quicker to respect him & the depth of how well he's thought through this plan. at first it seems like he's intrigued by the idea of finally finding yet another equal, someone to match his freak after years of standing on his own, and knowing DN you're inclined to trust that the mind games will eventually happen. but, in the end...

he loses. and doesn't he seem so happy about it?

minoru really is the perfect match for near in a way-- a new, passive kira, uninterested in the bullshittery of killing and shinigami and evil murder diaries, to reflect and match the tired, new L who was done with his job before he even started doing it. RIP minoru dying due to shinigami bullshit, but i'm genuinely happy that this is the ending near gets, the chance to finally lose at something without having to pay the price of human lives for it. winning has almost never been a truly positive thing for near-- his winning wammy's house only gave him the many pressures & stresses of a job as L, his winning against light only gave him a dead mello and a notebook to quietly burn, hell, all of this shit happening at all is what made mello resent him so much in the first place.

but now he can lose. and i think he's all the better for it.

near is immature, yes, he bossy and snarky and blows up his toys without giving a fuck what anyone else has to say-- but he doesn't get ahead of himself in the way that light and L and the others did, a trait which ultimately lets him win but also leaves him behind to shoulder the grief of a generation. but now he can lose, he can let the fate of the world fall of his shoulders for just a moment, and everything is still going to be okay. it's good to see him getting older. it's good to see that you can still move on and grow, even when it seems like the legacies of the past are locking you away in a cage. i'm glad these manga exist, and i'm glad near can still make it out alive.

[neonovember]

Carmen definitely has black cat energy, maybe more akin to something like a stray cat (saying that lovingly) but definitely is more cat boyfriend than dog boyfriend. Have to leave him alone and gain his trust and then he’ll be curious about you, and then won’t leave you alone 🥰😭

this is completely true, carmen is kinda stand-offish and reserved at first and he is horrible at replying and calling you back because let’s face it he doesn’t really know how to communicate properly. but even after all that, all of that distance and reservations you force him to come out.

you drag him to a nice hole in the wall lunch spot, you take him for drinks, and then something just clicks in Carmen. Once he realises you aren’t going to leave him stranded he completely opens himself to you, and don’t try and tell me he wouldn’t be the most clingy mf after 😭 this man is literally a toddler yall!

So why not a little drabble down below? A sneak peak if you will. it’s likes 200 worth of word vomit and there’s allusion to smut to enjoy ;)

*

The busy streets of the farmers market spilled into the morning traffic, as Carmen rushes between crowds with two cups of coffee grasped against his chest.

They burned, really fucking bad, probably searing a third degree burn right under his pelvis but god did he not care, his legs ran with the wind behind them as he tried making it back to your shared apartment as quick as possible.

He had only left the warm bed where you lay 10 minutes ago, only after you had thought about ‘how good a coffee would be snuggled up here’ and Carmen had shouldered on a flimsy fleece jacket and his house slippers before racing out of the house to fulfill your request.

He didn’t regret it now, but he could practically feel his skin itch with a desire to feel you against him again. There had been a celebratory dinner of sorts for the beef after it got recognised as Chicago’s up and coming restaurant of the decade. Carmen couldn’t wait till you both made it to your apartment and just took your right there in the backseat of his car that now stood stationary in the parking lot.

Carmen can still taste you on his tongue and now he’s grateful he took a much needed day off to spend it with you.

Opening the apartment door, the smell of melted butter and grease washes over Carmen’s senses. Flipping of his slippers, Carmen past the kitchen, where used dishes lay on the stove top and the ingredients for pancakes lay open.

“Baby? I got our coffee?” Carmen yells out, and when there is no answer a sweat begins to break on Carmen’s forehead.

“H-honey? You there!?” Carmen yells louder, looking through the living room before entering the bedroom with haste.

“I’m right here Carmy, it’s alright” The sweet saccharine melody of your voice pulls Carmen from whatever fear inducing nightmare he fell into.

You’re here, back where your supposed to be. Wrapped around the covers that smelled of the both of you.

“Made us pancakes” You smile, the sun streaming in through the linen curtains so they dusted all over your gorgeous face.

If Carmen could shift his eyes away from you (which he can’t) he would see the pretty tower of pancakes dripping with syrup and berries plated on the bedside table. Hell, if he saw how well done they were you feared the coffee might get thrown across the room and Carmen will drag you up to his face.

“Got us coffee” Carmen whispered, placing them to the side, forgotten as his mind was consumed with feeling you against him.

“Just get in here already” You giggle, before the sheets are thrown to the side and the warmth of Carmen’s body encapsulates you once again.

[sinnabum45]

Regrets and Apology

Link to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

[Image description: Black and white digital comic of Ace Attorney characters Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth.

Page one: Phoenix is facing away from the viewer with a speech bubble: “I was angry that [red text] you didn’t even bother telling me [end red text], or anyone, that you were suffering so much…” A memory of a tired Miles looking to the side saying, “I’m tired, Wright. I feel as if… something inside of me has died.” Phoenix’s hand is holding Miles’ crumpled resignation letter. Phoenix: “But the truth was that [red text] you did. [end red text] You did tell me and [red text] I left you to deal with it alone. I even hurt you. [end red text] I just… Couldn’t take the fact that [red text] I could’ve helped you, but I didn’t. [end red text] Finding a reason to blame you was a lot easier than facing the fact that [red text] I couldn’t save you [end red text] from your past.” Phoenix is on the far left of the page with an angry expression. Pearl is holding onto his arm and looking back at Miles. She has a worried expression. Miles is on the far right of the page. He is holding his right arm with his left hand and looking down with a hurt expression. Page one end.

Page two: Present Phoenix is smiling sadly, facing away from the viewer at Miles. Phoenix: “haha Pretty pathetic, huh?” Miles reacts with an uncomfortable shift while looking at Phoenix. They look away from each other in silence. Miles, facing away from viewer: “You’re not pathetic, Wright.” Phoenix twitches with a guilty expression. A memory of Miles sitting at his desk with crumpled paper all over the desk. He is crying with a blank expression while holding a pen over a sheet of paper. Miles: “I was too deep in my own pain that [red text] I justified disregarding everyone and everything else… I was a coward and ran away without saying a word. [end red text] How can one not feel grief from such selfishness?” Page two end.

Page three: Miles, facing away from the viewer, looks down. Miles “… Wright, I’m sorry for running away. I’m sorry for abandoning everything I used to be… For abandoning you.” Phoenix is surprised. Phoenix then puts his hand on Miles’ shoulder and Miles looks up at him. Phoenix: “I’m sorry for abandoning you, too, Edgeworth… And I’m sorry for saying those horrible things to you.” Page three end.

Page four: Phoenix starts to lean closer to Miles with tears in his eyes. Miles’ expression stiffens. Phoenix: “ I… I don’t want to lose you again.” Phoenix is right in front of Miles’ face and a tear falls. Phoenix: “I’m glad you came back, Edgeworth.” Phoenix hugs Miles and they start crying. Phoenix: “ I missed you…” Page four end.

Page five: Doodles of different scenarios. Top left: Miles is holding Phoenix’s arm while looking away and blushing. Phoenix is shocked, but smiling. Miles: “W-Wright… Would you like to have dinner together?” Phoenix: “HUH?! Oh- um… Yeah!!” Top right: Miles is looking away and holding his right arm. He looks pained. Phoenix is looking at Miles with a worried expression. Miles’ thought: “How could I have done that? He must be so disappointed in me… It’d be better if I wasn’t here.” Phoenix’s thought: “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re stronger than you think, Edgeworth.” Bottom left: Phoenix is facing the viewer with a scared expression, sweating. Miles is glaring at Phoenix from behind with a menacing aura around him. Text: “Hyping himself up to talk to Phoenix [arrow pointing at Miles]” Bottom right: Phoenix is wearing his beanie with a stubble. He is talking on the phone with a smile on his face and his eyes are closed. Trucy is next to him happily yelling something. There is a split to where Miles is. Miles holding his book and smiling while talking to Phoenix on the phone. Box text “They’re not perfect, but they’re trying.” End description]

This is supposed to be a part 2 of the comic where Miles spirals. You don't have to read that one to understand this one, but I'll link it if you want to see it! (TW// suicide ideation, graphic depiction of suicide attempt) Link to the comic

Some of my opinions/thoughts below! I tried my best to make it make sense-- 🙇🏻‍♀️

There was supposed to be a whole scene where Miles calls Phoenix, they talk over the phone for a bit, and decide to meet up. I didn't know what they'd say and I didn't the energy, so I skipped to their conversation-- 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

Also, I was skimming through case 1-5 again and I noticed that Miles was actually very open and communicative about what he was feeling and going through. Even Phoenix (and everyone tbh) noticed how badly Miles was suffering. They saw it with their own eyes, too. I hear a lot of people in the fandom talk about how Miles doesn't communicate his feelings at all, so I was surprised to see that.

Although it doesn't excuse Miles hurting his friends, it made me understand more of why Miles probably felt alone and had to deal with his problems himself. It'd be hard to trust people/ask for help when they've either betrayed you in some of the worst ways possible, ignored you, minimized your feelings, or is a literal child. I love Lana, but imo she was probably one of the worst person at the time to be the one telling Miles to trust people. From Miles' POV she just betrayed and traumatized him, so I find it hard to think that Miles could listen to her about trust even if he wanted to.

Even with Phoenix. They're not close at this time and so far, no fault on Phoenix, Miles hasn't had many good experiences with Phoenix in adulthood. Yes, Phoenix solved DL-6, which Miles seems really grateful for, but he leaves Miles to deal with the aftermath alone. Of course, it's hard to know how to help someone suffering with trauma. (I really don't like the whole "saving" Miles from his trauma, cuz you can't just do that?? Like they both say that... 🤨) Regardless, Miles didn't really have anyone he felt like he could trust there. At least according to the games, Phoenix drops everything because Maya left. He didn't get in contact with Miles until case 1-5. Throughout the OG trilogy, Phoenix thinks a lot of things, but rarely says them out loud to comfort/reassure his friends. It's common for people to be uncomfortable with having to verbally comfort others so they choose to not say anything at all, but that will have its consequences, too.

I like to think that they did apologize to each other or something. Phoenix seems to put in more effort to verbally show his concern and comforts Miles. He even thought about "hugging it out" with Miles when he thought that Miles would need it. That scene was so cute 🥺

I get that realistically, a lot of people struggle with proper communication, but people have the ability to learn and grow, so I want to portray these characters with that in mind. They don't have to be perfect, but they don't have to be completely toxic either. I like it when characters like each other (romantically or platonically) and actually show it. Which I do notice that AA portrays a lot! I do think the characters could be a bit harsh to each other for no reason, too, but that's just me cuz I'm sensitive-- 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ lol I haven't gotten into AJAA yet, but I did see some scenes. I love how Miles and Phoenix could just have random conversations now. They seem so much more comfortable with each other than the earlier games. I want to see more of how the all of the characters' relationships changed over time throughout the games! 😆🤲 (Might take forever cuz my brain is already bursting with just part of the 1st trilogy)

If you have read until here, thank you for your time! As always, I love seeing people's interpretations/thoughts, so that's why I want to share mine, too. If you want to share your thoughts on this post, feel free to do so! Just please be respectful 👍

[radiant-reid]

just saw the post abt having to explain to spencer the talking stage then an actual relationship and how he overhears her telling someone she doesnt hv a bf maybe a blurb/fic on that idea?

Spencer steals glances at you every morning while you make your coffee and chat with Emily. It's so apparent to everyone what he's doing that JJ and Morgan have taken to stealing things off his desk, seeing how much they can take before he notices.

One day, when you're walking back to your desk you make a comment that has his interest piqued even more. "No, I don't have a boyfriend at the moment. I'm enjoying being single."

Spencer's heart sinks at your words, his mind instantly conjuring images of your dates. Dates that should mean he's your boyfriend, right? So why are you telling everyone you're single?

His head is spinning with confusion, and it's turning to anger pretty quickly. Are you ashamed to be with him? Surely if you're enjoying being single, that means you're dating other people or that you're not even interested in him.

He can't believe it, his emotions swinging from anger to sadness. It's unbelievable and you're breaking his heart.

Before you're even sitting down, Spencer's getting up and rushing to the bathroom to calm his racing heart rate before he has to be sick.

Your conversation doesn't even remain in your mind while you continue your day. What feels odd is Spencer freezing you out. Usually, on boring paperwork days, Spencer will tell you fun facts or dumb science jokes just to break up the repetitive work and horrific nature of your files.

He doesn't. Not a single comment comes your way, not even when you ask very open-ended science questions, basically inviting him to ramble about his favorite topics. None of it entices him.

His sarcastic remarks come just after lunchtime with a snappy attitude that irritates you. You're worried about him, firstly. Something must be wrong in his personal life to have him like this, but you can't help feeling a little angry that it's all being directed at you.

You were just starting to really like him and now he's turned around and shown you who he really is just because you're arguably who he's closest with. He's quickly becoming not the type of person you want to be with.

When you're the last two people in the bullpen, you realize you can't let him stay there all night. No matter how annoying he is, you're his friend, first and foremost, and he's clearly going through something.

So you approach him. "Hey, do you want to get dinner?" You ask.

"Not with you," Spencer replies coldly and totally uncharacteristically.

That's your breaking point. "What's wrong? Seriously, you've been horrible to me all day and I can't think of anything I've done to offend you."

Spencer sighs and it's weirdly more regretful than angry. "I... do you remember what you said this morning?"

You frown, unsure of what exactly he's referencing. "No?" Then you quickly add, "But I want to make things right."

"You said you didn't have a boyfriend." He feels pathetic saying it. The idea that someone like you would never be interested had been slipping from his mind, but now that concern is at the front of his mind.

You're only more confused then. "I don't."

"I thought I..." His cheeks flame up with embarrassment and he puts on a front of nonchalance. "I thought I was your boyfriend, okay? That's it."

Oh.

You wish you could have given Emily a different answer that morning. You would have proudly told her that Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, but you couldn't.

"You never asked me." You say softly, shuffling awkwardly on your feet.

"Did I need to?" He wonders dumbly, and it's very obvious that he's just unaware.

You shrug, explaining your point of view. "I thought we were still at the talking stage."

"The what?" Spencer asks.

"Like when you're just talking and casually dating, trying to work out if you're friends or if there's a romantic connection." You describe.

He nods softly before his heart sinks again. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot." You're easily the best thing that's been in his life for a long time, and now he's totally ruined it. If you didn't think he was too inexperienced before, you do now.

"You're not, not provably." You break the awkward silence and tension that's fallen over the room, making him chuckle a little. "And I like you, exclusively."

Spencer's frown is adorable but it's concerning large this time. "Really? Still?"

"Mm-hmm." You assure him. "As long as you promise to talk to me when something's wrong instead of icing me out."

He stands up quickly, nodding. "I swear and I'm really sorry." He promises you. "So would you like to go to dinner? As boyfriend and girlfriend?"

You try to suppress an inappropriately large grin. "I would."

Spencer doesn't hide his smile and he's awkwardly tripping over his bag and feet to meet you around his side of the desk. "Let's do it." He smiles softly at you, offering out his hand for you to hold.

You take it happily, walking to the elevator with him. "Let's do it, boyfriend."

[blingblong55]

The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations: 

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

---------------------- 

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. 

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw. 

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms. 

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death. 

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart. 

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future. 

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours. 

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told. 

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left. 

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force. 

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war. 

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs. 

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware. 

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him. 

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem. 

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it. 

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband. 

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear. 

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you. 

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ] 

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun. 

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover. 

--

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break. 

--

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them. 

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband. 

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence. 

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy. 

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states. 

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased. 

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

Tags:

@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

[phie04]

Inconvenience | g. clarke

Chapter 1 - Moving out

Word Count: 1.2K

summary: time for Noa to get out of her apartment, with the assistance of Mr Christopher Dixon

Warnings: extremely mild angst / sad undertones

noamurphy

liked by chrismd10, arthurtv and 10,373 others

noamurphy no bc why is packing the worst

comments open

chrismd10 you haven’t finished packing?

⮑ noamurphy perhaps not

arthurtv you’re moving in an hour you do realise?

⮑ noamurphy yes very aware thank you. and it’s more like in five minutes and not 1 hour

⮑ arthurtv so stop replying and get packing

fan1 omg is she moving in with the boys??

⮑ noamurphy never they’re too messy x

⮑ arthurtv I refute this comment

⮑ noamurphy okay lawyer

⮑ glambyflo god i can't wait for you to be here xx

⮑ noamurphy can't wait to see you!!

fan2 praying this means more Noa content with the boys

⮑ fan3 please!!! just having her occasionally appear in Chris’ videos isn’t enough

gkbarry_ everyone shut up my girl is moving to London

⮑ noamurphy all for you babe x

maxbalegde I need to meet you immediately as soon as you’ve moved in

⮑ noamurphy consider it done x

Noa felt on the verge of crying. On the one hand, she knew this was exactly what she wanted, moving out of her cramped apartment and away from her tormenting job, to a significantly better apartment and a small position at her dream architecture firm. Still, it was all very terrifying.

The move from Jersey to Edinburgh for university was hard enough, followed by a slightly rushed decision to do a masters in Cambridge meant that Noa never really felt settled wherever she went. So, when an apartment in the same building in which her childhood friends Arthur and Chris lived became available, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t that her apartment was bad, it just didn’t feel like home - as hard as she tried, her room felt more like a dorm and office rolled into one, with plans and building ideas scattered around.

She rubbed her face, trying to stave of the feelings of exhaustion as more books were piled into one of the many half filled moving boxes. Regretting the four hours of sleep the night before, Noa reached to the side to grab her can of Monster, cursing when she found it empty.

"Knock knock! It's you're favourite person!" a voice called in the hallway, followed by the small pitter-patter of hobbit feet.

Noa rolled her eyes and stood up, grimacing at how her joints cracked as she stretched. "Either Arthur has dramatically shrunk, or something isn't right here."

Chris chuckled as he pulled Noa in for a hug, his eyebrows raising as he took in her state. "I see you've had an ample amount of sleep."

She chuckled, turning away from him to start closing the lids on the packing boxes. "You know I thrive off practically no sleep. That's how I did A Levels. And most of university." Noa shrugged.

"I'm aware. So how much packing have you got left to do? Because I'd preferably want to be on the road before it gets too busy." Chris asked, nervously glancing at his watch.

"Calm your tits Dixie we’ll be fine.” Noa grinned, walking into her cardboard box of a bedroom to grab her last couple of things. “But thank you though, I appreciate the help.”

Chris smiled, as he began stacking boxes in the hallway. “You’re welcome Noa, plus now that we’re living in the same building, I can just borrow all your stuff. And your food.”

“I thought the four of you were good at cooking? At least, when you have the right utensils and ingredients.”

“You weren’t the one who had to try those pizzas.” Chris shivered, trying to suppress the memories. “So it’s just these boxes yeah?”

“Sure is!” Noa called, emerging from the bedroom with a backpack and duffel bag. “One of the pros of renting a furnished place, don’t have to move all the furniture when you leave.”

“Are you gonna miss it?”

“Jesus no the mattress was horrible.”

“Not the furniture you idiot, the place in general.”

Noa shrugged as she did one last sweep of the kitchen, checking that she hadn’t left anything behind. “It was nice, but it just felt like the right time to move on.”

Chris nodded, picking up one of the lighter looking boxes, helping Noa ferry them into the hall.

As he grabbed the last box from the living room, curiosity got the better of him and he had a quick peek inside (Noa had written a note on the box telling him to specifically not look). His heart tightened at the sight of the blue football boots inside, mud streaks and grass stains still evident across soles and laces. The leather was deeply creased and the colour was worn around the eyelets of the laces, they used to be used frequently, but the small layer of dust that had collected on them proved that they’d been hidden away for a while.

Rifling around in the box more, he found the matching shin pads, as well as a collection of dog eared photos. Chris smiled fondly, holding the Polaroid up to the light so he could clearing see the people in the image.

It was himself, Noa and Arthur as kids - all grinning at each other. Noa’s hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which was once probably neat, but in the moment it was a mess, flyaways everywhere and her baby hairs sticking to her forehead. Arthur and Chris looked significantly younger, baby faces prominent, with a definitive lack of facial hair. Chris felt his eyes water with emotion, remembering the ecstasy of the moment. Even as an adult, the unbridled joy of seeing someone you cared for win their football league was contagious.

Though he couldn’t help but sigh sadly, knowing how much everything had changed.

“Christopher! I specifically wrote a note on that box for you not to rummage through that!” Noa sighed, taking it from his hands and repacking it quickly.

“Why not?”

“Because you’d get all like…this.” She replied, gesturing her arms up and down at him.

“You just gestured to all of me.” Chris said indignantly, screwing his face up in confusion.

“I’m aware.” Noa answered, pulling the front door open with a grunt, pushing some boxes with her left foot to hold it open. “Now let’s get this show on the road yeah?”

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge it?”

“Acknowledge what Chris?”

“Don’t do this Noa, c’mon.” He sighed, moving to block her view of the boxes that she was busying herself with. “You’ve still got those boots.”

“Sure do.” She replied shortly, piling a small valuables box on top of one marked ‘kitchen - don’t drop’. “Got all my football stuff in there.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Noa huffed. “What’s left to talk about? We’ve talked about it many times, I think we’ve covered everything. And it was five years ago Chris.”

Chris raised his eyebrows, not convinced. “Okay, okay, but if you want to talk, me and Arthur are here.”

“Very aware of that, thanks.”

author speaks: welcome to the first proper chapter! Hope you enjoyed it :)

[stephstars08]

History

Titans!Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, LONG INTRO, Angst, Fluff, Weapons, Injuries, Trauma, Heartbreak, Death Mentioned, Dark Themes Mentioned, Violence, Anxiety, Jealousy, Loneliness, and Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of Black Canary and Green Arrow. That’s how her and Jason met. They met through their parents. The two have so much history between them that is full of ups and downs.

Word Count: 2,212

Author’s Note: I’ve basically had this in my drafts unfinished all year till I finally just decided to finish it since the idea isn’t all that bad. If it’s a little confusing I apologize and the intro is basically a summary of how the reader and Jason became so close. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!

Y/N and Jason share a lot of history with one another. Y/N is the only daughter of Dinah Lance and and Olivier Queen who are Black Canary and Green Arrow. Y/N has the same powers her mother has which is a scream that sounds like a canary crying. However, Y/N’s scream is different. Her’s sounds more like a siren than a canary cry. That’s why when she goes out on patrol she goes by the name Siren.

Y/N is also a good and strong combat fighter. Both of her parents are good fighters but have different fight styles, so Y/N knows how to fight using both of her parents' fighting styles. And of course, she also knows how to use a bow and arrow as well.

Y/N and Jason met when her mom was helping Bruce who is Batman on a case that involved someone her mom had dealt with before and ever since that mission Y/N and Jason have grown a bond and have worked together on multiple occasions.

They joined the Titans together. Jason was excited but Y/N felt the opposite. Y/N felt like she did not fit in with a team even though everyone loved her. Jason and Dick helped her a lot with that feeling and made her feel like she belonged on the team.

Everything was going fine till Dick brought in this girl named Rose who just happened to be the daughter of Slade Wilson who is no other than the deadliest assassin, Deathstroke. When Dick let Rose stay in the tower, she butted heads with everyone especially Y/N. It was mostly because of who her father is. Deathstroke has a long history with Y/N’s parents. She knows all of the horrible things he has done.

It only got worse when Jason didn’t listen to Dick and got captured by Deathstroke. He tormented Jason. When Dick and Kory went to get him back Jason almost fell to his death till someone who looked just like Superman came to the rescue and caught him. When Jason returned to the tower Y/N knew something had changed inside of him. All he did was stay in his room which really concerned her. She would tell everyone that something was wrong, but everyone was dealing with their own shit and seemed not to care. They would just tell her he’s just still recovering from what Deathstroke put him through.

One night Y/N finally decided to take matters into her own hands and go talk to Jason. She felt like she was the only one that gave a fuck about Jason. She went to his room and went to knock on the door, but music was playing pretty loud so she just decided to just walk into the room which she immediately regretted it. She walked in to see Jason and Rose kissing. When Jason noticed her, he immediately broke the kiss. Before anyone could say anything Y/N just walked back out. After that happened Y/N couldn’t help but feel angry. She also felt jealousy boiling inside her too which did scare her. Jason is her friend, and she feels jealous about him kissing another girl. Why was she feeling jealous?

More chaos ensured after Dick confessed that he murdered Deathstroke’s son. The old Titans were the most upset. Everyone left the tower except Dick, Gar, and the guy who saved Jason were the only ones that were left. Y/N left with Donna and Rachel while Jason left with Rose which did hurt Y/N. She felt like he rather be with Rose than with her. Things didn’t end well between Rose and Jason. Turns out she was just using the team because her father wanted her to help him destroy the team. Y/N didn’t hear about the breakup till Rose reunited with the team to take down her father.

Y/N didn’t see Jason till Donna’s funeral. Donna had gotten electrocuted saving Dawn. They just shared a look and that was it. After Donna’s funeral Y/N went on her own.

She went back to Star City and started to fight crime on her own. She didn’t hear from any of the Titans till Jason became Red Hood after coming back from the dead. Dick brought Y/N back to help Jason come back to the good side which worked. After they finished Crane off and sent him back to Archam, Jason confessed his feelings for Y/N which she returned them. When she was out on her own that’s when she realized her feelings for Jason. When Jason was going through all that darkness Y/N was the one that helped him get through it and that’s when he realized he has feelings for her.

They started dating each other but sadly the relationship didn’t last very long.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was at the Gotham City Police Department with Barbara in her office. He’s helping Barbara solve a case that needed help from a vigilante more than a detective. There is a villain named Cupid who has showed up in Gotham. She’s been leaving dead men in alleyways. There have already been two victims. One man was found with an arrow through his chest and the other man was found with an arrow going through his head.

Barbara asked Jason if he’s ever dealt with Cupid which he said no. “Okay then I know someone who does know Cupid.” Barbara said which made Jason let out a sigh since he knew who Barbara was talking about. “Y/N.” Jason said putting his hands into the pockets of his zipped-up jacket.

“Yes, can you go to her and ask her for some help defeating Cupid, she’s done it before.” Barbara said to him. “I don’t know about that, Babs.” Jason said with nervousness in his voice. “Jason, I get it. You two had a shitty breakup but we really need her help with this case.” Barbara told him. Jason let out another sigh because he knew Barbara was right. Plus, he would’ve crossed paths with Y/N sometime. “Okay, I’ll go stop by her apartment.” Jason told her and walked out of the office.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason drove his motorcycle to the apartment building he use to share with Y/N. When he walked inside the building he could feel his heart rate speed up. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He stood in front of the door that read 3C in gold. He took a deep breath to calm his pacing nerves down.

He knocked on the door and waited. A couple minutes passed and there was no answer. Jason knocked on the door again and still no answer. Jason figured Y/N wasn’t home so he turned to walk away but before he could reach the steps the door opened to reveal Y/N. When he looked at her, he saw the broken look she had in her eyes. Those were the same broken eyes he saw the night he walked out on her.

“What the fuck do you want?” Y/N hissed obviously not happy to see him outside her door. “Y/N, I’m not here to fight.” Jason told her in a stern tone. “You have no business being here, so I don’t give a fuck why you are here.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. She went to close the door, but Jason stopped it from closing with one of his feet.

“Y/N, please. It’s important.” Jason told her. Y/N noticed the serious look in his eyes, so she knew he was telling the truth. “Fine.” Y/N said with a heavy sigh and walked away. Jason walked into the apartment and closed the door. He followed Y/N into the living room. She sat down on the chair while he sat down onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked him. “Barbara sent me here because we are dealing with a girl named Cupid. She’s already left two men dead in alleyways with an arrow in them.” Jason explained to her. “All I’m going to tell you is that she’s a skilled archer just like my dad.” Y/N told him and stood up.

She went to walk into the kitchen, but Jason quickly stood up and grabbed one of her arms. “That’s it?” Jason asked her. “You’re not going to help me take her down.” Jason added which made Y/N let out a heavy sigh. She pulled her arm out of his grip. “No, because that’s not who I am anymore.” Y/N told him which took him by surprise.

“You’re not Siren anymore?” Jason asked with a surprised look on his face. “Why?” He asked her. “Going out there as Siren just reminds me too much of what happened between us.” Y/N told him looking away from his gaze.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jason told her with sincere in his voice. “If that was fucking true you wouldn’t have said what you said.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. “I didn’t fucking know saving your boyfriend from a bullet was such a wrong thing. I didn’t know saving your boyfriend would make him lash out at you and just fucking leave you all by yourself!” Y/N told him looking back at him with a glare in her eyes.

Jason heard the pain in her voice. He regrets everything he said to her that night. Everyday he wishes he could go back in time and take back every word he said to her that night.

“I-” Jason started to say but she immediately cut him off. “You need to leave, now.” Y/N told him in a stern tone. Jason knew not to argue with her, so he walked out of the apartment. At least he gave her something.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The past couple of days Jason and Barbara had been tracking Cupid. Tonight was finally the night Jason was going to attack. They thought tonight was the perfect night, but it wasn’t going as Jason planned.

Jason was in his Red Hood gear getting his ass kicked by Cupid. When Y/N said Cupid is a skilled archer she forgot to mention that Cupid was also a skilled martial arts fighter. He got thrown into one of the concrete walls. He was too worn out to get back up.

“Now.” Cupid said as she walked up to him. She had her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. “It’s time to put you out of your fucking misery.” Cupid said aiming her arrow at Jason’s chest. Before she could shoot the arrow a siren like scream knocked Cupid down making her drop her arrow and bow. When the screaming stopped Jason looked over to see Y/N standing there in her Siren suit.

“Long time no see, Cupid.” Y/N said walking towards her. Y/N picked up Cupid’s bow. “Did you miss me?” Y/N asked with a taunting smirk. Cupid let out a growl as she got back up onto her feet. Before she could charge at Y/N, she used the bow to hit Cupid across the head. Cupid fell down onto the hard ground unconscious. “Crazy bitch.” Y/N hissed throwing the bow down onto the ground.

Y/N walked over to Jason. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked helping him up. “Nothing, but some cuts.” Jason told her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After the cops picked Cupid up Y/N took Jason back to her apartment to help address his cuts. She had him sitting on the couch. He had two deep cuts on his shoulder that she had to stitch up. Jason was sitting on the couch with just his pants on while Y/N sat next to him stitching up the cuts. There was a comfortable silence between the two.

“All done.” Y/N said after wrapping up his arm, so the stitches stay safe and in place. “Thanks.” Jason told her. Y/N just gave him a nod as she put all of the supplies back into the first aid kit.

“I thought you weren’t Siren anymore?” Jason asked her. Y/N let out a sigh as she closed the first aid kit that was sitting on the table. “Y/N.” Jason said in a soft voice. “I was scared that you would’ve been Cupid’s next victim.” Y/N told him without looking at him.

Jason took one of her hands into his’s which made her look at him. “Everything I said to you that night wasn’t directed at you, but it was directed at me.” Jason told her. “What?” Y/N asked in a confused tone. “When you took that bullet for me, I thought I was going to lose you.” Jason confessed as his eyes started to fill with tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Jason cried which made Y/N’s heart ache for him.

“Jason.” Y/N said putting her free hand onto one of his cheeks. She wiped away some of his tears with her thumb. She had tears streaming down her face, too. “Please take me back. I love you so much.” Jason said looking into her eyes. Y/N gave him a nod. “I love you, too.” Y/N told him.

“Want to start over?” Jason asked her. “Yes.” Y/N said with a nod. Jason leaned in and connected his lips with hers. Y/N returned the kiss. It felt so right for them to be back together, again.