#or keep going and hope id be able to rest them enough at the end of the year that maybe the inflammation would go away

[nomairuins]

its so embarassing likee. going to talk abt a feeling you have but you already know ppl will be like Oh that sounds like depression lol and its like. well yes . i know . trust me i am so aware i am depressed . but its still like a thing ive been thinking abt and wanting to talk abt but ik itll just be like Ok hun 👍. idk idk what response i would want tho ig FNFNFNF

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

why is it that the first time i really have the motivation and urge to write, my dumbass tendonitis flares up to be like "oh, you wanted to use those wrists, did you?"

[strwberri-milk]

Hi! How are you? i would like to request about Mc remember her past life, and she goes really overwhelmed about it...to the point that when she sees Rafayel, she gave her a kiss. The first one for them. And obviously he melts for the kiss. Smut

the way you just ended the ask with Smut. reminds me of that video where the guy just goes "Belt" also i didnt feel like going the whole smut route - if you want the smut hoestly, id say you can just look at this bc soft smut hcs are the direction i'd take here <3 maybe one day i'll write a full fledged fic but rn i have my hands full w boothill [pensive]

The dreams you had were slowly getting more and more realistic. You didn't quite understand why or how they were starting to come about but you first brushed them off as just that - dreams. You didn't think that there was anything too serious about them until one day you suddenly get the sense that everything you're dreaming about is somehow real.

Rafayel was on a business trip so unfortunately you couldn't even talk to him about this, struggling with these emotions yourself as you try to sift through them. Somehow, your dreams line up with the things he teases you about and you start to wonder if he knows something or if it's some weird after effect of being reincarnated?? You can't figure it out and you don't want to blow up his phone with your ramblings so you keep it to yourself until he comes home.

He shows up at your door, beginning to tell you about how he wasn't even able to go home because he missed you so much, wanting to see you right now when you look at him with tears in your eyes. He's startled to say the least, panicking a little as he asks you why you're crying when you suddenly grab him, kissing him hard.

He melts into your touch, desperate to feel your touch. He's always wanted you, always wanted to be with you but never thought that you felt the same. He just prayed and hoped that one day you would remember, that he'd be lucky enough to be with you. Even if you don't remember he doesn't mind losing himself in you like this right now, closing the door behind him as you lead him to your bedroom.

He takes you passionately, keeping you on your back and doing his best to make you cry from ecstasy. He repeats over and over how much he loves you with each bucking of his hips, kissing you breathless and telling you he's wanted you from the moment he saw you. He showers you with attention, bringing you to the peak over and over again. He's insatiable, desperate for you to feel good because of him and making up for lost time.

You're exhausted and barely coherent by the time he's done but he holds you so close. You can hear the beating of his heart in your ear, memorising the sound as you remember that it was taken from you before. You confess quietly what you've seen, the things you remember. He holds his breath, looing at you desperately as he asks if you really remember. When you confirm he holds you so tightly, telling you to rest for now and then the two of you can discuss what's next at another time.

[kadwrites]

entanglement | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; your fate is now sealed

warnings ; arranged marriage trope, slow burn? , typos (english isn't my first language) , tommy being the babygirl that he is.

a/n ; i have beef with this secretary idk why. thank you guys for the support! id love to know what you guys think of this part<333

-

you look out the window as he drives, trying to ignore the awkwardness between you two. your heart is almost beating out of your chest.

he glances at you as he drives, "who were the friends ya had over?"

you turn to look at him "huh?", it seems like no matter how often you talk to him, his voice still makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up

"the friends, the company ya had over this mornin' , who were they?" he repeats, a little slower this time

"oh my friends madeline and fiona, why?"

"do they know about this?" he glances at you again

"of course they do" you look at him even when he looks away, your mind starts to wander "are you... ashamed ?" you try not to sound too offended.

his brows pinch together in confusion, and you see it from his side profile "what?"

"of this, of me." you're still staring at him "is that why you don't want people to know about this? 'cause you're ashamed?"

"why would i be ashamed ?"

"i don't know, tommy. why would you?" your attitude seeped into your words , unfortunately.

"i'm not" he adds with a small chuckle

"is it cause my dad is a farmer?"

he turns to look at you for a second, with an almost amused expression "i don't care that your dad is a farmer."

"then why are you so secretive about it?" you ask again, casually. you needed to know why

"i just didn't think ya would want anyone to know, i'm giving ya chance to reconsider this before anything official 'appens."

you raise a brow at him "so this isn't official then?"

"i meant an engagement party, a public announcement. an entanglement that everyone will know about that ya wouldn't be able to escape."

"ya still think i'm being forced into this..." your voice is soft ,its almost a whisper as you connected the dots, your eyes roaming his face.

he doesn't respond back, he just takes a breath and keeps on driving.

"my father gave me a way out of this," you speak again, "i've had multiple chances to end this... entanglement or whatever the fuck ya want to call it. but i didnt take them."

"why not?" he asks almost immediately after, his eyes on you again

"because i didnt want to."

his eyes go back to the road , the rest of the drive is silent and you don't mind it. frankly you didn't know what other uncomfortable conversations you'd have if either one of you spoke again.

you don't wait for him to open the passenger door, you do it yourself. you two walk in and you groan internally, resisting the overwhelming desire to roll your eyes at the sight of the blonde secretary. her eyes lit up when she spots him and you could see her practically deflate as she saw you walk in with him.

"good mornin' , mr shleby." her voice is sweet, overly sweet you think you might gag at the sound of it.

he doesn't acknowledge her as he walks towards his office but only stops to turn, waiting for you to catch up. you walk and you both enter the office through the glass door, he leans down to whisper in your ear , not too close but close enough to make the air around you feel non-existent as you hold your breath.

"i'm still not fucking 'er , by the way."

it wasn't just the hairs on the back of your neck that stood, your whole body was now covered in goosebumps. you hold back the shudder that almost escaped you. he wasn't even that close but the sound of his voice, so near. the proximity, he's standing so close to you. you can almost physically feel the secretary staring, as if she wanted you to drop dead on the spot.

you let out a small chuckle, you hope that it masked the reaction that his words caused "you're not?" you don't move though, you're too scared. maybe you didn't want to ruin the moment

"i'm not."

you nod as you lean back and look at him, your nod is slow "i believe you" you say softly before taking a seat on that same chair

he takes his coat off and hangs it, then walks and heads for his chair "your only condition to our marriage is for your parents to be financially supported, correct?"

you nod again "correct."

he rereads a paper that he grabbed , before handing it to you "you wanted it in writing."

you hesitate before grabbing the paper yourself, your eyes skim through the black ink. you lick your lips as you see the word 'marriage' and see both of your names and then see his signature on the bottom. and an empty spot for your signature, he hands you a pen

"ya still 'ave one more chance."

your eyes snap up at him, before you grab the pen, you put the paper back on the desk and then sign it.

"and now i don't"

you two don't take your eyes off eachother, as you both acknowledged what just happened, that your fate was now sealed

"an engagement party is in order now, aye?"

you huff a small laugh "yeah, and it'll be fucking grand."

-

taglist ; @tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator , @theshelbyslimited , @illuminwtesz , @goldensunflowe-r , @gruffle1 ,

[moondirti]

animalic (5)

← chapter four // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 3.4k summary: an unwelcome confrontation warnings: enemies to lovers, violence, blood and injury, mentioned death, fighting, angst, morally questionable characters, miguel o'hara is not nice notes: this chapter caused several headaches and i don't even like the end result, but i can't pick at it forever sooo. enjoy!

While you’ve never been renowned for making the most accurate of assumptions, there are certain patterns you’ve come to expect in order to have survived this long. To never have a glass of orange juice after brushing your teeth, or maintain eye contact while being threatened. That a kilogram of antimatter produces ten billion times the energy of chemical combustion upon annihilation, and that any quantity larger than that should not be contained.

Of such paradigms, you’ve noted only one to be entirely reliable. That a spider-hero would always fight crime, whatever the greater good. 

“Absolutely not.”

You might’ve been mistaken. 

“Those people are in danger, O’Hara.” You strain, trembling against the cough battering your chest. Your diaphragm spasms with every stride he takes, crushed against the curve of his broad shoulder, desperate to make up for lost breath. 

He lets the plea hang, countenance obscured from your view. With the way he carries you now, all that meets your eye is navy – navy, and the bright red geometry stretched over the brawn of his back. The nanotech suit warps to fit every muscle, glinting as they push forward to meet the sun. And it dips, right between his shoulder blades, lining a clear contour of the anatomy he fails to hide. A dosser of intercostal sinew. Tapered laterals, cinched to curve at–

Your core broils uncomfortably, and his grip tightens around your knees, levelling up to the degree of his treatment thus far. After slinging off that rooftop, he’s made sure to keep you particularly close, like the effort could prevent your powers from manifesting. Like you could make it happen. 

(Though, he doesn’t know that you can’t.)

But he’s smarter than that. If nothing else, it serves as a cautionary gesture. A reminder. You’re disarmed – quite literally – the only force between your nose and the sidewalk being the behemoth of a man whose body you’re strewn across. And, if you could control it – transcend the material at any given whim – it would be the extent and end of your efforts. Not with the neon webs binding you, nor your clear lack of skill. 

The wind quivers with the distant sounds of calamity. You’re drawn back to the very real situation at hand. 

“You make for a lousy excuse of a spiderman if your first instinct isn’t to save them!” You raise your voice, hoping to be heard over the sirens that blare towards the destruction. By counting them as they pass – two, four, six – you’re able to assign a severity to it. But it isn’t, won’t be, enough. You’d heard the screeches; primordial, clawing out from beyond the capabilities of an ordinary threat. You’d felt them – seeping into your bones, grating the spongy marrow – until Miguel had gathered enough obduration to reel you in the complete opposite direction.

Speaking of– 

You tilt your head upwards, surveying the street down which he runs. It’s deserted, yet the presence of its civilians is slower to leave, a molasses that slinks towards locked doors. It’s thick with an apathetic acceptance, bordering on resignation – bitter and not unlike your own resting inclinations. You’ve never known an evacuation to happen this fast, especially this far out from the scene; people are stubborn like that, refusing to face what isn’t in front of them. That is to say, they might be used to it.

“You’re not even going the right way, dickhead!” 

Of all things, that makes him stop. 

(Of course it does.)

Your form flops uselessly as he turns to make sense of his surroundings. There’s the sign – 30 St and 7th – which should give any New Yorker an idea, but he doesn’t linger on it. Instead, he shoots a web to wrap around the railway of a fire escape, propelling the both of you onto an accompanying balcony. Swallowing the bile that swells along your throat at the sudden jump, you shoot him an incredulous look, which he chooses to ignore as he drops you to the floor. 

His mask retreats, hair bouncing upon escape from its smothering embrace. For all that he tries to hide his pinched lips, you sense the scepticism emanating off him in waves. 

You take a moment to stew over it, examining him while he calculates the path of your previous chase. From the convenience, to the corner, and into a nearby store lot. Perhaps he hadn’t been paying notice – which you sincerely doubt, considering the efficiency with which he treats everything else. Could he really be unfamiliar with the layout of a city his job is to protect? Or–

It occurs to you steadily, washing up on the fringes of your arrogance; a realisation in pieces.  

Nueva York. 2099. 

A metropolis. Likely one with no grid system. 

Your cackle beckons his attention, severe stare snapping to your grin.

“We’re on Seventh.” You specify.

He cocks his head, nostrils flaring. Warning or question – you have a hard time deciphering the difference. 

“The convenience was on Sixth and Third. You know, third avenue, East of Fifth?” You push it, spurred by your awareness that he, in fact, does not know. 

“¡Ándale pues! What exactly is your point?” 

“We continued down east until you bit me, judging by the way the sun hit the lot upon rising. But now, we’re on Seventh, on the other side of Fifth.”

His jaw clicks, pulsing in irritation. You toe the line of what you can get away with, how long you can drag this out before he decides you’re not worth the trouble. 

“West. You’re heading West, and–” Wriggling, you adjust your posture into one more reflective of your current pride. “If you have any hope of finding that day pass, then you’re gonna need to go back.” 

The bid translates, weighty, bubbling like the arid smoke off nuclear strife. He processes it, understands – you watch as it unfolds in that intimidatingly intelligent glare – yet the circumstance takes a while to establish itself. Even when it does, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of a full blown breakdown. No. His hands just find his hips, chin sloping to the sky.

“No puedo más, no puedo más, no–” 

You probably shouldn’t rub it in any further. 

“Since it’s on our way–” 

"No." He snaps, voice laced with a prickling irritation that sears through his supposed indifference. The heat of it greets you, wiping the simper that had begun stretching your cheeks. “You must think this is some game, and while that might explain the shit you’ve pulled in the past, I have a responsibility. I can’t interfere with their canon.” 

“So, what? You’re just gonna let them die?” 

His expression lifts, brows rising expectantly, like he’s imploring you to shut up without his verbal confirmation. 

Right.

It starts like a taut bowstring, straining as it verges on release. 

On one end, there’s Apollo; drawing his arrow, a god amongst men. The direction with which he aims his weapon can be seen as prophetic – plague was always meant to befall the crowd at his mercy, their fates little more than a thread of mass design. Some call it righteous – epithets dedicated to his name – agreed upon by the same men who claim that rational means right. Some craft sculptures in his visage, this muse of the kouros, likening stone to flesh and deluding the observer that the two can be synonymous. Nietzsche, Bernini. You, yourself, had managed to believe that the muscle rippling below you could be anything but an Athenian tragedy. 

You linger on how startlingly poetic it all is, and the string pulls tighter. You’ve never claimed to be a hero, but you have the instinct, just the same. He, on the other hand, seems entirely dismissive of the urge you assumed would wreck him too. 

(Partially your fault. You know better than to expect the obvious from him – that’s his pattern.) 

As the two of you veer closer to the havoc, the arrow discharges, striking the tension that’s kept you still thus far. When it snaps, it shatters, congealing to form a beset of sounds, sights, fear. Heaving sobs from a limping group of friends – the middle one rapidly losing blood from what you can tell. The pungent clog of burning debris, fed by the ash that lays suspended, mid-air. The painful creak of metal collapsing in on itself, peppered amongst the constant buzz of radio static. Miguel curbs to a stop, hidden in the notch of an alleyway, and uses the cover to reposition you in his carry. You go from slung over his shoulder to laid across his arms – not quite bridal style, but a placement similar enough that he retains a solid hold of you. 

His mask comes back up, concealing the cynicism that had begun to creep up onto you both. You scoff at the unambiguity of the action, the parallel it poses to the reality at hand. He blocks himself to the obvious, the avoidable. 

Glowering, you trace his line of vision to the encompassing wreckage. The street appears hauntingly familiar, thrumming with the hurried echoes of a recent memory. It lacks the colourful components – the vivid signage, the star speckled windows – yet, you recognize it all the same. The very avenue you frantically traversed only hours ago. Your companion, too, begins to grasp the truth, and you find yourself biting your cheek, a twinge of unease settling in as the revelation hits you: that perhaps you had divulged too much, far surpassing the realm of personal gain. 

Yeah, the day pass is here. And you can only hope that he won’t find it.

For now, though, it appears to be the least of your worries. 

A crimson creature prowls along the fringes of the decimated ruins – deliberate, relaxed, like a predator with its teeth already halfway dug in its meal – circling a man clad in a lab coat. Its size is menacing enough; standing at seven feet, with limbs as thick as pipes. Yet, what truly strikes you are the protruding bulges flanking either side of its jaw, and the white, emblematic eyes gazing out from upon its face. 

“Spider-person?” You whisper, not so much looking for clarification as you were putting the possibility out there. Miguel is unwavering, dead-set on waiting the interaction out. 

“Something like that.” He affirms. 

“Y’know, I remember you, doc!” The creature jibes, its inflection nearing maniacal. “You sat on my jury! Yes, yes. Hard to forget a shiner like that.” Laughing, it points to the balding patch atop its victims head. He trembles, bowing in a silent cry. 

“O’Hara–” 

“Wraith.” He warns. 

“Sixty seven years! Not even you look that old, ‘course you don’t understand how damning that sentence was! But you see, I got lucky. Some higher being must’ve taken pity on me, enough to grant me this miracle of a symbiote. Mhm, yeah–” He skips closer to his prey, considering him in the new light. “‘Cause now I can do things like…” A sharp blow echoes. The glassy spear, red as the flesh it extends from, skewers through the doctor’s chest, a spout of blood following through on the other end. “This!”

Miguel’s palm slaps over your mouth, knee supporting the portion of your body he releases whilst angling you away from the scene. You’re thankful for it, despite the overwhelming anger you bear against him. You’ve no trust in the horror that wracks you suddenly, all at once. It launches you back to that convenience, the robbery. How powerless you had been to stop the clerk from dying out, your hoodie fruitlessly wedged to her neck. You’d been spared the grief so far – the blur of the last day tamping to little more than an aching numbness. Yet you should have appreciated that it couldn’t last; guilt is far too familiar a prospect for you to have expected it to let off so soon.

(Your mistake.) 

“Oops. Did that go through your heart? My bad, doc.” It howls, stuck in its own stand-up routine. “You’d been doing your… erm– civil duty, sure.” The loud squelch of gore triggers the imagery for you, regardless of your averted gaze. The limb-turned-spear being pried out from between his ribs, caked in bits of tissue. 

Dead. You could’ve prevented it. 

He could have. 

From behind the veil of unshed tears, you watch as he ponders the risk of retracting his hand. You betray nothing, blinking back the hot dismay from your eyes, and instead meet his regard in cold defiance. Slowly, as though your apparent sensibility means anything, he removes the muzzle. 

You contemplate screaming, to coax the creature from the group of people it has surrounded and make it Miguel's problem to handle.

Then, you remember your rather unsavoury predicament. How prone you are to harm with your limbs locked; you aren’t the best in combat, but you still could’ve stood a chance at survival if it wasn’t for your restraints. 

Your captor reaffirms his grip, tucking you to his figure as he creeps up to a corner. His back remains glued to the brick wall, obscured in shadow. The stance is primed – far from the hesitant sidle he’d adopted before. It isn’t hard to figure out why; you see it too, buried under a pile of trash bags, on the other side of the road. Purple, luminescent. 

The day pass. 

As if on cue – choreographed by a sadistic deity with no favour for anyone involved – you glitch. 

It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough for you to fall to the ground, erupting in a pained groan. The creature twists to lay its terror on your curled frame, shaded by a man who – despite his vast height – is dwarfed in comparison to its colossal self.

“Better start learning not to ignore my spidey sense! I’d felt you tiptoein’ over there,” It growls, neck stretching in preparation for attack. 

“We’re not here for you.” Miguel urges. 

“No? That hurts my feelings, and here I was thinking you wanted to be friends.” At the feral rip of its taunt, it lunges, tearing through the space separating you. The spider-man, in turn, dodges the barrelling assault, swinging in a blur of motion to a wreck not far off. You thank God for his flashy suit; the creature seems to forget you completely, pivoting to charge at him again. 

You force yourself to look away, sickened at the unhinged savagery with which it thrashes. There are people still around, crippled by quickly debilitating injuries, the paramedics meant to aid them now amongst the lost. This is what you wanted – the opportunity to help – and of course you’re still hindered by the asshole who’d refused you in the first place. Desperation weighs heavy on your chest as your eyes scan the spoilage, seeking anything you could use to cut yourself free. And there, you catch it – the sharp end of a broken gutter, its jagged edge catching the afternoon sun.

Using your heels as anchors, you push yourself across the coarse pavement. It isn’t a long way, thankfully, but sweat already starts to dampen your shirt by the time you reach the potential lifeline. Angling yourself, you press the webs to the serrated metal, ready to start shoving. That is, until you remember Miguel; how he sat on your legs, his talons performing much the same feat. He made sure to hold your wrists apart, so you didn’t suffer damages he didn’t intend. 

You remedy your approach, arms straining to separate, then thrust downwards. The telltale signs of your success come as pops, like elastic bands splintering. Then, it’s the easing pressure on your skin, irritated and surely marked in places where the binds come undone. 

The makeshift blade catches your elbow once you’re halfway down, burying deep enough to touch bone. The world narrows to the searing intensity that blazes up your nerves, eclipsing all else. You almost forget your goal, your brain stirring signals to pull away, but the fight that rages in your peripheral is only growing more barbaric. Alarmingly, Miguel is losing. 

If he dies, you’re next, and it’d all be in vain. 

Biting your tongue, you stifle the pain and continue pressing. The gutter inches sideway, ripping through flesh and web like butter, the sleeves of your top mangling at its lip. Miraculously, you stay awake for the time it takes to finally get your arms loose. It’s harder to preserve that triumph when you sit up, though, dizziness distorting the plan of action you’d set for yourself. 

(Get… get the people to safety. Then, your legs. No–

Free your legs, get the people to safety. And… what? 

The day pass. Yeah.

But Mig–)

Your body moves with an unsettling disconnect from your own command. Unable to fully grasp the dissonance, you blanch in bewilderment as you navigate the clearest cut path through it all. A dance in a mechanical rhythm; pulling the webs off your calves, running over to the nearest civilian, and helping them up on their feet. And again. And again. 

There’s a boy, young enough that you worry he doesn’t understand you’re harmless. His cherubic face is coated in a grey layer of dust, disturbed only by the tear marks that run from big eyes. His foot has been crushed, stormy blue blotching his knee. You dismiss the agony of your numerous wounds and crouch to pick him up, hugging him to your chest. 

New squadrons of emergency services trickle in, careful to leave their sirens off as they round the corner. It’s an odd enough choice that it distracts you from the child’s fingers, which dig into your abrasion for purchase. An ensemble of prospects occur to you. 

When you hand him off to an awaiting EMT, it clicks. 

What’d the creature call itself? A symbiote? 

(You haven’t always been science-oriented.

Freshman year of college, you’d joined as an undeclared major within the school of arts and architecture. ‘Course, you only had your general education requirements to fulfil at the time; useless classes that fit your self-imposed four day weekend, meant to do fuck all as your tuition went to waste. Needless to say, your ambition had been directed at more carnal pursuits. 

Then, there was astronomy. It’d awakened your curiosity for the cosmos.

Astro 8, to be exact. Life in the Universe. Your post-midterm lesson had been on a recently discovered,  space-faring civilization. Symbiotes – they were called – based on the initial assumption that they thrived in mutual beneficial relationships with other lifeforms. But the projection that flickered for its class of drowsy students entailed another truth entirely. Darkened bullet points in big, bold letters. Known weakness. 

Fire, and sound.)

You sprint towards a nearby cop car, its door wide open and the driver's seat vacant. It’s instinctual, devoid of consideration. A singular objective dominates you, beyond the day pass – to kill that thing. Not for Miguel, who’s choked in its gnarled hand. Not for yourself, or your deep-rooted desire for heroism. No. Just for them – the boy and that group of friends, the doctor who still lays dead on the scene. For the sake of this world, and to reconcile the life you took just last night, as if such a trade-off could absolve you of the weight of your sins.

Stepping on the gas, you accelerate abruptly, gaining speed with every pothole you drive over. It looms ahead, crouched in front of a hollowed-out apartment complex, suffocating the futurist spider-man and vibrating with glee. If you can align it – aim and time it just right…

You activate the wail siren. Your hypothesis is validated when it screeches in response to the racket, throwing Miguel off to the side. 

Good. He won’t be collateral.

You grab a gun from the cupholder on the dash, throwing it on the pedal to keep it down, then jump to the backseat. 

The impact is seismic; a violent convergence of metal and brick and brawn that sends shockwaves rippling throughout your being. You become captive to the merciless momentum, forcefully propelled against the leather cushions. Chronic whiplash shreds upon the vulnerable muscles holding the weight of your concussed head; its talons raking through the fibres, pulling apart the once sturdy tissue. A relentless ring envelops the cacophony of noise, and silences it into one, tender hum. 

You’re hauled out the window, detained in the embrace of some unspecified form, which settles above you for cover as the building comes crumbling down. 

Or – not unspecified. 

That mix of patchouli and musk.

Your consciousness turns to black as you're buried beneath the rubble.

chapter six →

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[softxsuki]

Last time I requested was a whiiiile ago. I try not to request ppl too often bc I save them for urgent, I’m that one anon who asked u to write the human trafficking toman thing. I’d like to register myself as 🐈 anon if that’s available, if not then 🐈‍⬛. Anyways urgent request pls, hope you don’t mind, maybe Karasuno team reactions to learning their manager is out of school bc of a suicide attempt?? Idk if you write for haikyuu as teams so sorry 😭 if not maybe just Kenma on his own? Tysm in advance 😭

Kenma Finds Out You Tried Taking Your Own Life

mentions of sui*ide, don't read if that will trigger you pls

Pairing: Kenma x Gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of attempting to take your own life, hospital, worrying, embarrassment

Genre: Comfort?

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 430

Summary: In which you're Nekoma's manager and attempt to take your own life and Kenma finds out

[A/N: Hey! I remember you and yes ofc you can be 🐈anon! <3 Hope this gives you some comfort. I only write for certain ppl in Karasuno, not as a team, so I went with the Kenma one. Hope that's okay!]

Kenma:

This is the most anyone has ever seen Kenma react to anything before; his usual stoic expression goes pale and visible worry takes over his features

Practice is a disaster since all he can think about is you. Whether you were okay and wondering why you tried to take your own life…he was scared

It gets so bad that Kuroo ends up sending him home so he can relax, but whispers in his ear that he should go visit you in the hospital where they were monitoring you for a while until they thought you were stable enough to go back home

He’s hesitant at first, but knows he won’t be able to focus until he can see with his own two eyes that you are okay

So he takes a trip to the hospital, stopping on the way for some snacks he knows you like and some flowers in hopes that they will brighten your day, but he's beyond nervous. What will he say when he sees you? What if you don’t want him there? Yet he still pushes forward and walks to your room

You’re slightly embarrassed when you see Kenma walk into your room; you were Nekoma’s manager, yet here you were in bed after attempting to take your own life, but you try and meet his eyes, grateful that he took the time out of his day to see you

He’s a little awkward and doesn’t exactly know what to say other than keep you updated on how practice is going

“I…I just want to say that we really appreciate you as our manager. We wouldn’t have been able to get as far as we have without you, so please, stick around with us”

It’s simple and doesn’t exactly address what you attempted to do to yourself, but it hits deep and makes you tear up a bit as you nod in agreement

Kenma was there to support you, not judge you and you could clearly see that in his eyes as he treated you like always, despite how fast his heart was beating and the relief that went through him when he saw you smile

After visiting you, he continues to visit you everyday after practice and is even able to focus a little better, which the rest of Nekoma are relieved about–they can’t have their setter messing up

But things finally go back to normal when you return as their manager and they throw you a huge welcome back party, showing you just how much they truly appreciate you, especially Kenma

REGULAR REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Posted: 11/12/2023

[d33pd3sire-blog]

The Air That I Breathe Part 2

The long awaited part 2! Lemme know if you want a part 3 :)

This is an Emily Prentiss x F!Reader. Angsty, with a happy ending.

Warnings: Injurys, reader goes nonverbal, hospital environment, mention of blood, IV, breathing tube, bruises. Let me know if I've missed anything out.

Id just like to mention that I don't have autism or anything related but I do tend to stop talking when I'm stressed or experience things that can be traumatic, and this is how I feel when that happens so I do not claim to be an expert in this area

Character count: 8865, bit of a long one haha

Any suggestions are always welcome! Please enjoy :)

*--*--*--*--*--*

Soft beeping is ringing in your ears as your mind starts to clear, although you have no idea where you are. Numbness starting to wear off, causing you to groan in pain. Why does everything hurt? You think. Once the event flashes through your mind you remember. All of it. Your eyes shot open, the room spinning and your mind running at a million miles a second. Where am I? Where's Reid? What happened to the others? You try to get up from the bed you're laying on but something heavy is holding you down. Your eyes and ears start to finally adjust to the world around you and you notice Hotch's arms holding you down. He's repeating 'Calm down. You're okay. You need to stop moving.' You're still a little confused, 'I.. I need to help them!' you croaked. Hotch grabs your face, 'Look at me. They're alive.' Those words repeat in your head, keeping you grounded. Theyre alive. 'They're hurt but they're alive. If you hadn't of called us when you did it could've been a lot worst.' You barely let him finish before spitting out 'I need to see them.' Hotch shakes his head at you. 'Not right now, you need to rest.' You roll your eyes at him, how can he say that? 'I can't rest.' You spit at him. He ignores the attitude, he knows its not directed at him specifically. 'I promise as soon as you're able I will take you to see them.' Your expression softens, you know there's no point in arguing with him. Your body relaxes, Hotch releasing his grip.

*--*--*--*--*--*

Your eyes blink open, great. I fell asleep. You think. You look around, squinting at the harsh light to see that no one is here. This is actually perfect. You hatch a plan in your head, the hope of seeing the others at the forefront of your mind. You take a breath, gripping the handles at the side of your bed and lift yourself up. The pain causing you to groan, but you push through. The heart rate monitor attached to your chest is ripped off, causing the machine to flatline. You roll your eyes before switching it off. 'Thats enough of that' you scoff. Once your legs are ready to step down, you grab your IV pole to keep you up. That's the hardest part over with, you thought. As you start to walk, your legs feel stiff and crackly, making you hiss in pain. I can do this. You check the coast is clear from your room's window, before slipping out. Now, to go left or right? You look towards each direction, trying to decide which one calls you the most. Choosing left, you stumble to the next door from your room. As you take a peak in the window, your eyes gaze upon a sleeping Spencer with a slight smile on his face. Maybe he's dreaming. Your eyes drift to Garcia sitting in the chair next to him, seeming to play a game on her laptop. The sight makes you smile internally, he's okay.

A few seconds go by and you know he is going to be okay, so you move along to find the other two. Your feet is sore but you tell yourself to keep going. Luckily, the next room wasn't too far from Reid's. You approach the next room, finding Morgan reading this weeks American Health and Fitness Magazine. Some relief fills your heart when your eyes settle on him. He looks up, smiling, and waving you in. You use this opportunity to enter his room. 'Hey mama. You look like you've been hit by a bomb.' You attempt to laugh. 'Are you.. okay?' He smiles, 'Of course I am, i'm always okay.' You put your arm on your hip and give him a look. 'I'm serious, those cuts on your face don't seem fine.' 'I promise you, if something was seriously wrong id tell you. Just some smoke inhalation, Emily had the worst of it.' His face drops, realising what he said. 'Shit.' He could tell by your face that your heart had sank. 'Look-' 'Where is she?' You interrupted. 'I don't think that's a good I-' He tries to calm you down. 'I don't care what you think, where the hell is she??' He notices that you aren't backing down, and nods his head to the right. 'Just past your room, but I wouldn't mama.' You ignore him and walk out of his room.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins, the pain from earlier is at the furthest part of your mind. Not needing the IV pole to keep you up anymore, you rip the needle out and leave it hanging there. You couldn't care about anything except Emily right now. Your mind is racing, expecting the worst. You finally reach her room and you hesitate with your hand on the handle of the door. Morgan in your head telling you not to. 'I told you to rest.' you jump, turning to face the voice. Hotch is looking at you with worry. He takes your arm and wipes the blood you didn't notice from the ex needle site. 'You're not ready to be up and walking.' Your eyes start to water before practically begging, 'Hotch, I need to see her.' He looks at you, using his annoying profiler eyes. 'Please.' He sighs, before saying 'Fine. But before you do I need to tell you that she's doing okay, she's improving. Just remember that before you see her.' His words give you chills. How bad is she? you think. You take a deep breath before turning the handle and limping in.

The sight you walked in on was nothing like you had expected. Purple bruises swirled on one side of her face, you can tell which side the blast met her on. Your eyes trailed to the tube in her throat, helping her to breath. You take a sharp breath in, realising you had been holding your breath the whole time. 'Oh em..' You hobble to her side, hesitating slightly before taking her hand in yours. The touch between you and her forces the tears you've been holding to fall. Before you know it you're sobbing, your legs finally giving out. Hotch pulls you into him, trying to calm you down. He lifts you from the floor and carries you back to your room. He tries to comfort you, but there's only so much he can do.

A few hours later and the crying subsides, you're exhausted. The image of Emily imprinted in the back of your eyes. Every time you close your eyes, you're back in that room staring at Emily and the tube in her mouth. She can't breath on her own. How did we not predict this happening? How did I not predict this happening? The amount of time I spent reading through the file, profiling every inch of the unsub and yet we still got hurt. While your mind is racing, you didn't even realise JJ had entered the room. She asked you how you were but when you thought about replying there was no energy to say anything. The idea of even talking was too overwhelming right now so you just nodded. Anything else she said went in one ear and out the other. You weren't ignoring her per say, you just could not stop thinking about Emily. You're such an idiot, what if she dies and you never told her you loved her? Will you ever get the chance? You eventually fall asleep, not caring how long for. You just needed to rest and not be awake for a while.

*--*--*--*--*--*

Your eyes blink open, surprisingly you didn't dream. It felt like nothing, but a good nothing. Garcia is sitting on the chair opposite you, playing, you're assuming, the same game on her laptop from Reids room. Once you try to move, your whole body feels like it hasn't moved in hours. You groan. Garcia shoots up from her chair 'Oh my god! You're awake! How do you feel? Are you okay? Ill get the doctor.' You grab her hand before she leaves, holding it. Needing her to ground you, even if it only helps a little. She looks back, watching. your face for any changes. 'Hey, I have some good news.' You look at her, furrowing your brows. 'Emily is breathing on her own now. She doesn't need the tube anymore.' She smiles at you with this grin, like everything in the world is okay. There's a slight relief, she's doing better. But she still isn't awake. You grip the bar next to you, determined to get up. Garcia getting worried. 'Oh baby, don't get up you've been asleep for 18 hours. You need to pace yourself.' 18 hours?? You look at her in disbelief, although you feel well rested, you still haven't got the energy to say anything. 'Your body needed the rest, you still need more. What you went through was traumatic and horrific, please don't push yourself even more than you have.' You muster up all the energy you can find to force out 'I.. I need to.. See her.' you croaked. Garcia is shocked at how determined you are. 'Fine, ill help you. I don't like it! But there's no stopping you is there?' You shake your head, giving her the best smile you can muster. 'Stay here. Ill get you a wheelchair.'

The anxiety in your stomach starts to bubble as Penelope pushes you closer and closer to Emilys room. What if she doesn't wake up? What if she does wake up but her brain is all damaged? What if?- The door opens and you're pushed to the side of Emilys bed. Your eyes start to tear up again when you see her. What is it about this woman that always seems to push me over the edge? You take her hand in yours and rest your head on an empty bit of her bed. Tears are falling slowly, but you're just glad to be here with her. Please come back - you think. There's so much I haven't told you and so much we haven't done yet. 'Ill leave you alone for a while' Pen says, getting a feeling this isn't just a friendly exchange. You sit there for what feels like hours, silently begging Emily to come back. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep again, the scent of her always calmed you down.

*--*--*--*--*--*

You felt hands playing with your hair, you humming at the touch. You open your eyes slightly, forgetting where you were for a split second until it all became clear again. You sat up with such haste, it made Emily jump slightly. 'Did you know you kind of snore when you sleep?' She smiled at you. The disbelief and excitement of Emily being awake and making sense has you shooting up to hug her. As you wrap your arms around her your eyes tear up again. She's awake! You notice Emily wrapping her arms around your waist, sending a shock up your spine. Once you both eventually release, she realises you're crying. 'Hey.. hey, love what's wrong?' You look at her with such love and relief it finally gives you the courage to confess your deepest secret with her. 'I thought you were gonna die. I thought I wouldn't be able to tell you the things I've always wanted to tell you.' She looks at you with attentiveness. 'I love you Emily. I always have and I always will. Every time I look at you I think I fall a little more in love if that's even possible? The only thing keeping me from falling apart completely has been you. Even if you were unconscious.' Emily starts to tear up, hearing you confess your feelings. Before anyone could say anything else, Emily grabs your face and pulls you closer to her, pressing her lips to yours. Your shoulders release the tension you didn't know you were harbouring this whole time and relaxes. Your whole body feels like fireworks are going off, you could stay like this forever. Emily pulls away and lifts your chin to look into her eyes. 'You're the best thing that has, and ever will, happen to me. I love you.'

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fanfic banner in the style of the game's achievement icons. A tattered yellow-white ID card is shown on a gray background. On the left side of the card is a stylized portrait of Miss Pauling, and on the right of the card is a stylized globe. On the right of the banner is the chapter's title in yellow-white, reading "CHAPTER EIGHT: IDENTITY THEFT" /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Miss Pauling, Medic, Heavy, Scout, Sniper Warnings: General references to trauma Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason.

Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve

---~~~---

Chapter 8: Identity Theft Summary: In which Spy makes use of his disguise kit.

---~~~---

Once again, Spy found himself staying on-base overnight. The drive out to the bookstore and back had been quite enough time on the road for him, after the little sleep he'd gotten the night prior, so he opted to stay rather than make the trip back home.

Fortunately the Pyro had not attempted another absurd bonfire that night, so those who chose to stay were able to sleep as well as they could. Which, for some, was not as well as might be hoped.

Spy woke before sunrise to the sound of voices—Medic's was the first he could identify, calm and authoritative and mildly annoyed, while the second was Heavy's, a low, quiet rumble. While normally he would not bother eavesdropping at such an early hour, the smell of blood from his dreams lingered in his nostrils, and he could do with a brief distraction. So, slipping out of bed, he crept to the door and listened.

"...have spoken with Herr Engineer about this, and no, it is not possible."

"Da, I know this."

"Then you did not have to wake me up at four in the morning."

"I did not mean to wake Doctor up. Only to check."

"That will not be necessary. If I am ever in mortal danger again, I will be sure to let you know."

Silence. No footfalls followed.

Medic went on, lowering his voice. "If it makes you feel better, you're not alone. That schweinhund keeps showing up in my nightmares."

"This... does not make Heavy feel better. Would like to help."

"You can do that by letting me sleep." The Medic sighed. "Tell you what—I can train Archimedes to come get you if there is a problem. Would this make you feel better?"

"...Da. I think so."

"Good. I can also prescribe you something to help you sleep."

"Maybe. Will see." A pause. "Goodnight, Doctor."

"Yes, good night."

Finally Heavy moved away, while Medic shut his door.

Spy stood for a moment, wondering if he should ask Medic for some sleep medication as well, but shook his head. No, he just needed to sleep in his own bed again, is all.

Yawning, he trudged back to the other side of the room and slipped into bed.

Everything was fine. They would be over this soon.

—-

Upon entering the mess hall, Spy abruptly remembered the events of yesterday when he found it near devoid of chairs and with multiple of his fellow mercs standing about awkwardly. Sniper lurked in a corner, nursing what was surely not his first cup of coffee; Engineer leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, eating a plate of eggs and bacon; Demo knelt awkwardly next to one of the tables, leaning his head against it; and Soldier sat in the only chair, shoveling burnt pancakes into his face.

Sighing, Spy turned away—perhaps today would be a good day to rest at home.

"The chair problem's bein' corrected," Engineer said, and Spy looked back at him. "Miss Pauling said she'd come deliver them herself."

Spy raised an eyebrow. "Good to know, but strange she would make the delivery herself."

Engineer shrugged. "I don't question these things."

"I don't expect you to," Spy muttered as he stepped past him and into the kitchen. Perhaps it would be beneficial for him to stay around a little while longer, if it meant he could speak with another potential source.

Breakfast went by quickly enough, and he hoped it wouldn't be much longer before Miss Pauling arrived. He had no desire to hang around the other mercenaries for the time being, and retreated to his bedroom, cracking open the window so he could hear Miss Pauling's vehicle when she arrived. He'd grabbed his book from his smoking room, but upon entering his room, he found his gaze drawn to the mirror.

Spy set down his book on his table and stood before the mirror. In one swift motion he whipped out his cigarette case and opened it. His gaze fell not upon his cigarettes, but the disguise kit. A few quick taps and a puff of smoke, and he found himself staring at the Engineer.

"Yee-haw, I struggle to pay attention to anything that is not made of metal!" he said mockingly in the Engineer's voice.

Rolling his eyes—invisible beneath those stupid goggles—he tapped the disguise kit again a few more times. A puff of smoke later, he was adjusting Medic's glasses. "I give pointless diagnoses and extremely unhelpful advice, and my lab reeks like a badly-maintained zoo!"

Spy shook his head, glancing down at the disguise kit again and looking through a few more disguises.

He paused.

He could, of course, turn into dead people. It was part of his modus operandi in battle—killing one of his enemies and then disguising himself as them in order to either sneak around or kill more of the enemy team. But...

For a long moment he stared at the name on the device, and, after a brief hesitation, hit the confirmation button.

When the smoke cleared, he was staring at Beatrice, the pyro of the former gray team. The disguise included her mask, but he removed it in order to stare at that face he remembered seeing what felt like a lifetime ago—the gray hair, the burn-scarred face, the singular eye. Yet... no, she still didn't look quite right.

Spy thought for a moment, then replicated a calm, smug grin.

There she was.

He would not soon forget that smile, nor the way it had twisted her face in dark, eager excitement as she looked at the Pyro.

"I like a challenge."

Spy shuddered as he spoke the words in her voice.

Admittedly, he sometimes felt joy at seeing his own enemies in pain. He might occasionally twist the knife—quite literally—but for the most part, he just did his job.

That was not, he knew, the case for this woman. This woman, who, when charged to interrogate them, asked Soldier one question before continuing to torture him, very clearly must have taken pleasure—joy, even—in what she did.

So what had she done to Pyro?

Spy lowered his head in thought. Off the top of his head, he knew what could be done to hurt most of his fellow mercenaries. Soldier, who took joy in his own torture, would have taken a severe blow to being told that he was not a true member of the United States armed forces. Heavy valued his family, and would potentially bend under threats made toward them. Engineer would be pained to see his hard work destroyed—not merely his beloved buildings, but his blueprints, which allowed him to rebuild them. He could go on, but there was no point. He knew what could hurt the others.

He did not know what could hurt Pyro—what had hurt Pyro. What had drained its life of color. What had brought it down to the point where if it dared to make a noise, it would degenerate into a panicked mess.

Looking up, he stared into Beatrice's eye.

"What did you do?"

He arranged her face into the same smug grin he saw the day she tortured Pyro, the day she died. And again he repeated the words he remembered her saying:

"I like a challenge."

Realization hit him like a sniper's bullet, and the disguise faded in a puff of smoke, leaving Spy staring wide-eyed at his own reflection.

His chest began to burn, and he stumbled over to his chair. A cigarette soon found its way into his mouth, hoping to cloud his disturbed thoughts, but his hands searched for his lighter, only to come up empty.

A motor rumbling outside interrupted his dazed thoughts, and initially he wondered where Sniper was off to before he remembered. Jumping up from his chair, he looked out the window and spotted a truck pulling in front of the base, and a familiar purple dress on the person stepping out of said truck.

Drawing in a breath, Spy straightened his jacket and exited his room. Perhaps he could talk to Miss Pauling about this—she may know something that he didn't.

But as he neared the front of the base—

"—I mean, you didn't have to come all the way out here just to see me, Miss Pauling!"

"I didn't. I came out here to deliver this myself because I knew if we sent someone else, you guys would shoot the delivery driver. ...Again."

Scout and Sniper had met Miss Pauling at the door, the latter sizing up the furniture in the back of the truck, and the former flexing his arms at every opportunity.

Scout shrugged. "Well, while you're here—"

"While you're here," Miss Pauling countered, "why don't you help me haul this stuff in." As she was turning away, she added, "Hi, Spy."

Scout looked over his shoulder, only to do a double-take. "What's with you? You seen a ghost or somethin'?"

Abruptly Spy realized that he'd been staring, and that the blood had drained from his face. But Scout was already shrugging and stepping out the door, followed by Sniper, who gave Spy a knowing look as he left.

"Yeah," Scout was saying outside. "I don't blame you for wanting first row tickets to the gunshow!"

"Oh! I'm going there with Heavy in a couple weeks, actually."

Gritting his teeth, Spy stormed into the mess hall, and, from there, into the kitchen. While normally he wouldn't bother with such menial tasks here, he removed his jacket and slipped some rubber gloves over his usual ones and began to wash the dishes that had been left to pile up in the sink. It would get him out of their way, and give him something to do while he waited for Scout to stop bothering Miss Pauling.

The sound of chair legs shrieking against the floor soon let him know that they were replacing the chairs in the mess hall. Above that, he could hear Scout's attempts at flirting, which might have amused him had it not made him remember a more dazed version of Scout's voice cracking jokes, when—

"Hey—hey! Heavy! Since when are you goin' on a date with Miss Pauling?!"

"What is Scout talking about?"

Seizing his opportunity, Spy yanked off the rubber gloves and whipped his jacket back on before hurrying out to meet Miss Pauling. He skirted past the utterly stupid argument unfolding in the mess hall and rushed out the front door, where he caught Sniper and Pauling both hauling in a new chair for the lounge.

"Miss Pauling," Spy said, and she gave him a grunt of acknowledgment. "May I have a word?"

"Yeah, sure, just let me—"

Spy approached one of the free sides of the chair and helped lift it up, bearing some of its weight.

"Oh, thanks!" She gave him a relieved smile, and the three of them carried the chair through the base and into the lounge, where they set it down. Wiping her brow, she heaved a sigh. "Sheesh, Pyro did a number here, huh?"

"Yeah," Sniper said, leaning against the chair. "Like I said, you shoulda' seen that bonfire it made!" He gestured with his hand in an attempt to indicate the height.

"Actually," Spy cut in, "that's what I wanted to talk with you about."

Miss Pauling raised an eyebrow. "The bonfire?"

Spy gave a quick look around—he hadn't seen Pyro yet today, but he didn't want to take a chance that it was anywhere nearby. Frowning, he motioned for Miss Pauling to follow him outside.

"Is it the furniture?" she asked, bewildered, as she followed. "I'm sorry, Spy, but we can't afford stuff that's as nice as what you have in your smoking room for every—"

"It's not that," Spy said as they stepped out the front door again. He looked back to see the Sniper had followed them out, but there was no reason to send him away. "It's... about the Pyro."

"Pyro?" Miss Pauling echoed. "I mean, it's not that weird for it to be setting fires."

"No, it's been acting strange. More violent on the battlefield, and strangely silent. It... managed to communicate recently that it no longer sees color."

"Oh, man..." Miss Pauling's brows knit with sympathy, and she lowered her head for a moment, only for it to shoot back up. "Oh! Do you think this is from whatever the enemy pyro did to it?"

"That is exactly what I think." He automatically tried to take a drag from his cigarette, only to remember it wasn't lit to begin with. With a growl, he tossed it to the ground and stomped it. "While I have yet to figure out the specifics of what happened... I may have figured out at least one of the details."

Both Miss Pauling and Sniper leaned forward in interest.

"Pyro has been silent, but I do not think it wants to be. However, whenever it does vocalize, it falls into a panic."

Miss Pauling looked down in thought, frowning. Meanwhile, Sniper hummed, and Spy wondered if some gossip about the incident at Medic's lab had gone around.

"Furthermore," Spy went on, "the enemy pyro took an interest in our Pyro when that idiot Soldier let slip that it could not talk."

He let that sink in for a moment. Sniper's brow furrowed, while Miss Pauling's head suddenly shot up, her eyes wide.

"I believe," he said, eyes narrowed in disgust, "the enemy pyro may have punished it for saying anything other than the information she desired."

Sniper scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Pyro can't talk—not with normal words, anyway."

"Exactly my point. She—"

"She saw it as a challenge!" Miss Pauling exclaimed, her face going pale. "She wanted to see if she could force Pyro to talk!" She wrapped her arms around herself. "Poor Pyro..." After a moment, she straightened, jabbing her thumb at the truck behind her. "I mean, all this is still coming out of its paycheck, but still."

"Bloody wankers," Sniper growled. "But what'd they even do to it?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Spy said, and looked at Miss Pauling. Sniper followed his gaze.

"...Wait," he said, pointing at Miss Pauling. "You knew about my birth parents, and where I came from. You gotta know something about where that bloke came from, or what it even is."

Miss Pauling winced. "Look, the Administrator wouldn't even tell me about it, so I'm as much in the dark as you are. Heck, she only told me about your parents because they were a lead on the world's remaining Australium."

Gritting his teeth, Sniper turned away.

"Surely there must be something you know?" Spy asked.

"Yeah—a lot! Just nothing in particular about Pyro, other than that it's not human." She rubbed her forehead. "Look—Medic might know something—"

"His knowledge is limited, as Pyro does not cooperate with examinations. What little he does know is classified."

"Ah, right. Just between him and the Administrator, huh?" Heaving a sigh, she tipped her head back. "Look, Spy... I'd really like to help you—or help Pyro, anyway—but I'm not sure what I can do."

"Well, Miss Pauling, given your unique position, I think there might be something you could do to retrieve the information I need. Even just to persuade the Administrator to—"

Miss Pauling gave a forced, humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Sorry." When Spy gave her a look, she softened. "No, seriously, I am sorry. But with how badly everything went with that last mission, I—" She cut herself off, and swallowed.

Spy looked at her for a moment, and she looked back, and he nodded slowly. "I understand."

"Thanks," she replied, her shoulders drooping. "I hope Pyro will be okay. It's nice of you to look out for it."

Spy shrugged. "It was merely a mission I gave myself, since no one else was looking into it."

Feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck, he knew Sniper was staring at him—for what reason, he didn't know, but he would not look back.

"Great!" Miss Pauling smiled, oblivious to the tension between the two mercenaries. "Sniper, could you help me get the last one?"

"Sure thing, mate." The Sniper followed Miss Pauling over to the back of the truck, but as he passed, gave Spy another look—one that seemed to say, we need to talk.

Absolutely not.

Frowning in thought, Spy hurried back into the base, heading down a few hallways until he neared the medical wing. There he stopped, looking around to make sure there was no one else around. There was no sign of anyone else heading this way, and, creeping up to the doors and listening, he could only hear Medic's voice speaking softly to Archimedes.

Casting one last look to assure himself he was alone, Spy whipped out his disguise kit.

A moment later, Miss Pauling burst into the lab. "Medic—? Oh, good, you're here."

Medic looked up, his eyebrows raised, while Archimedes fluttered up to the ceiling and Aristotle squeaked. "Ah, Miss Pauling! Good to see you!" the Medic said, smiling as he strolled up to meet her. "Finally come for your follow-up appointment? I've almost got the blood type separation technique worked out—"

"Uh, no, not today. I'm in a bit of a time crunch—since we set up office again, the Administrator realized she's missing some of the mercenaries' medical files, and I haven't had the chance to come out here until now."

Medic sighed. "Very well," he said, turning toward his filing cabinet. "Which ones did you need?"

"Just Scout, Soldier, and Pyro," she replied.

"Oh, you're in luck! I just updated Pyro's file recently."

"Yeah, great." Distractedly Miss Pauling looked around the lab, her eyes falling on Aristotle's, which were narrowed at her suspiciously. "Oh, uh, is... that the monkey you got from—never mind."

"Ja, he is!" Medic smiled as he went through the folders. "Say hello to the lady, Aristotle."

Aristotle hissed and scampered up to Medic's side.

"Now, now, that's no way to behave around patients like Miss Pauling!" Turning around, Medic wagged a finger at the baboon. "Only the bad patients. Now!" He held up the papers and looked up at Miss Pauling. "I'll make some copies of these and send you on your way. Stay here."

Miss Pauling held out a hand to protest, but Medic was already hurrying out the door. She watched him leave before turning back to Aristotle, who continued to glare at her. Then, in a deep, masculine voice that was not Miss Pauling's, she said, "What are you staring at?"

Shrieking, Aristotle scampered up on top of the filing cabinet and hid behind a pigeon nest.

Sighing, Miss Pauling crossed her arms, looking around the lab as she waited. Hearing the door open, she spun around. "Thanks, Medi—" The word caught in her throat.

Sniper stared at her from the doorway, holding out the copies of the medical records. "Looking for these, ya bloody wanker?"

"Uh, hi, Sniper!" She gave a nervous grin. "What are you doing here?"

"Dragging you out before Medic gets back." With that, he grabbed Miss Pauling's wrist and yanked her toward the doors.

"Sniper, what—?!"

His head whipped back to look at her. "Medic nearly chased the real Miss Pauling out the door to hand her these. I offered to run them out to her myself." He rushed her out the med bay doors and further down the hall, taking a couple turns before he slowed.

Meanwhile, Spy's disguise faded as he yanked his sleeve away from Sniper's hand. "I hope you've been washing your hands," he grumbled, dusting his sleeve off.

"You're welcome." Sniper stopped, and turned to face him.

"Now..." Spy reached for the papers. "Hand them over, bushman."

Sniper held the papers further away. "Tell me what this is about first."

Spy glared. "You already know what this is about."

"Oh, I do. It's you I'm not so sure about."

Rolling his eyes, Spy made another grab for the papers, only for Sniper to hold them away again. "You heard what I told Miss Pauling. I'm on a mission to find out what's happened to Pyro, and you are currently withholding vital intelligence for said mission."

"Yeah, you keep tellin' yourself that," Sniper said, his voice low.

"What are you talking about?"

Sniper leaned in closer, and Spy leaned back. "Funny, ain't it, how the one you decide to buddy up with is the one who can't talk back. Can't ask you what's wrong, or what you're running away from."

Anger bolted down Spy's spine. "Are you accusing me of being a coward? You're the one who hides in one place for an entire match!"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Spy." Even with his sunglasses, it was clear that Sniper was glaring at him. "Don't you. Or d'you have it buried so deep you don't even remember what you're buryin' anymore?"

"Stop talking nonsense and give me the papers!" Spy growled, making another swipe for them.

This time, Sniper let him snatch the papers, and leaned back. "...You really don't know, do you?"

Quickly he folded the papers and shoved them into his inner coat pocket before they could be grabbed away again. "What?"

Sniper went quiet for a long moment, before shrugging and turning away. "Nothing. Guess maybe you'll have to dig it up on your own."

Spy glared after him, but he was already heading away. He wasn't going to be digging anything, thank you—not in his suit, anyway. Instinctively he dusted off his sleeve again and hurried back up to his room, where he hopefully wouldn't be bothered any further.

Once safely in his room, Spy whipped the papers out of his pocket, unfolded them, and sat at his desk to read them over. For a moment he was confused at Soldier's papers being at the top before he recalled he'd asked for three of the mercs' medical records to avoid suspicion. He set the pages aside, and his eyes brightened at seeing the Pyro's class logo printed on one of the pages. He'd read this one before, when he'd first sneaked into Medic's lab, but now he had free access to all the information he needed. Setting aside the first page, he looked at the second.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the large text, reading:

DO NOT attempt to clean skin!!

Brows furrowed, he skimmed some of the writing after that, but there was no further information written on this point. Of course, he should have expected that—these were mainly for the Medic's reference, after all. Still, the other notes might prove useful. There was a recent date written, followed by more information:

Patient has submitted to a partial physical! Can be bribed with candy.

However, patient strongly resisted blood pressure and thyroid tests, likely due to recent trauma/shellshock. (Will try again later.)

"Goggles" seem to be a form of eyelid. Dense transparent lenses protect eyes beneath. Seems to be incapable of blinking.

Spy paused for a moment, and shuddered.

Heart rate elevated, though may or may not be due to anxiety. Normal heart rate unknown. More examination is necessary!

The notes on that page ended there, and Spy nearly crumpled them in frustration. Instead, he read them over again, his eyes drawn to the larger text once more. The previous page had noted the layer of soot coating Pyro's body, which Spy had witnessed himself. Could the soot be a protective layer? Or, perhaps, attempting to wash Pyro's skin resulted in injuring whatever poor sap attempted it. It did have a higher body temperature than normal—warm enough to burn someone, perhaps?

There was something there, he was sure. But what, he didn't know.

Sighing, he set the page aside, only to realize there was more beneath it.

Name: Jeremy—

Spy knocked a vial of ink over the papers, by complete accident and nothing more.

Some time later, he exited his room, and nearly bumped into the Pyro. Before he could stop himself, he held out the crumpled, ink-stained papers. "Here," he said. "Take these and burn them."

Pyro perked up and took the papers, but stared back at Spy, tilting its head.

Spy snorted. "How often does anyone give you kindling?"

Pyro stared at him a moment longer before turning back into its room, fishing its lighter out as it went. Spy watched it go, until it shut the door behind itself. With another sigh, he made his way down the stairs, only to stomp his foot on one of the steps.

That was his lighter!

[kirus-grotto]

Je t’aime

Malleus and Yuu sneak off from the Ball for a moment alone.

Just another fluffy self indulgent fic bc the current event was fun

Groups of people danced along to the music while Yuu made her way to a refreshment table. Dancing with Grim and the others for so long had left her parched. She could feel a figure suddenly beside her as she’d finished her drink; only to be a mix of surprise and discomfort as she turned to find it had been Rollo.

The gray haired mage had his arms crossed watching everyone. He turned his eyes to meet hers once he noticed her stare. “Would you… care to dance?” he asked a tad awkwardly. “Though I’m sure you’d rather not.”

Yuu felt an eyebrow twitch in annoyance. “...Sure. Why not.” she said flatly. She had wanted to talk to him anyway, and allowed him to lead her out to the dance floor after a moment of surprise.

The pair kept at arm's length as they twirled around. “You need not glare at me so. I plan to tell everyone the truth after you leave tomorrow.” Rollo said. “You could have just told me no.”

The Ramshackle prefect narrowed her eyes more. “Just because the rest forgave you doesn’t mean I will. I can’t say I’m surprised though, they’re better than me,” she’d snapped. Taking a deep breath to calm herself she added, “Besides. I needed to tell you something anyway.”

“...And that would be?” Rollo felt himself swallow hard at the ice in her voice.

Yuu’s eyes drifted over his shoulder, a sweet smile came upon her face before she leaned in to whisper into his ear, “If you ever try to hurt my friends again, I’ll make what you did tonight look like an innocent childrens movie.”

A shiver went down his spine just before a hand brushed against his shoulder. His dark green eyes turned to meet the brighter green of Malleus.

“May I cut in, Flamme?” The dragon fae had asked, a soft smile upon his face.

Rollo fought at the urge to shove Yuu at him. Instead he merely stepped away, bringing his cloth to his face and walked off. 

Malleus blinked in confusion before turning his attention back to Yuu, who continued her sweet, innocent expression. He smiled back at her as he bowed; his hand extended out for her to take. Yuu felt as if she were floating as she now danced with her Tsunotarou. No words were spoken between the two as they danced to the rest of the current song and most of the next. 

“I’m glad you were able to save your new gargoyle friends too.” Yuu muttered, resting her head against the taller man’s chest.

He closed his eyes as he smiled. “Yes, I hope to say goodbye to them before we leave.”

Yuu turned her face up to meet his again. “What if we sneak off when no one's paying us any attention? I’d love to have a chance to properly meet them before we go. I’m sure Silver could keep Sebek distracted long enough for us to at least get out of the room.”

Malleus couldn’t help the chuckle that came out of him. “It would be nice to have a moment alone with you, child of man.”

The prefect hid the blush creeping onto her cheeks into his chest again. “After this dance then?”

“After this dance,” he repeated.

Once the song ended the pair casually split off, Yuu to tell Deuce, Grim, and Epel not to wait up; Malleus to tell Silver and Sebek that he’d be getting fresh air. Also encouraging Sebek to continue enjoying himself and to not to worry. The two made eye contact across the room and nodded, now making their way outside to meet up.

The long trek had Yuu almost giving up, and the stairs certainly weren’t helping. Malleus, without missing a beat, scooped her up bridal style to carry her the rest of the way. 

“Mal! You brought another friend during the ball?”

“Did Az and Id join? Are they somewhere behind you?”

 “No, it’s just us.” Malleus smiled warmly. “I’m Yuu, it’s so nice to get to officially meet you all!”

The third gargoyle nudged Malleus while Yuu and the other two greeted and talked. “Bringing your lady friend up here mid ball eh?”

“My… lady friend?” The fae blinked in surprise.

“Is she not?” the gargoyle blinked back at him. “With how you carried and looked at her I assumed you were going to be romantic.”

Malleus looked from the gargoyle over to Yuu, a smile subconsciously appearing on his lips. “Hmm.. I suppose I can see what you mean..”

“Tsunotarou, look!” Yuu called to him. “You can see the sunrise from up here already!”

“We’ll leave you have your moment,” said the gargoyle, motioning for the other two to follow him down a level as Malleus stepped forward to be beside Yuu.

The soft orange of the sky shone in the distance as the sun just began to peak out of the horizon. Yuu snuggled close to her friend as she began to shiver; he in turn wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders. 

“They’ll probably be wondering what’s taking us so long now..” Yuu whispered.

“Perhaps.” Malleus replied. Though neither of them had made to move just yet. “I had hoped we would have a moment with just us.” He moved his arm from her shoulders down her back to her waist. His other hand he placed on her face, softly moving his thumb along her cheek. “Within my research I learned how to say this in Fleur City’s native language.” He leaned down to place a gentle kiss onto her forehead. “Je t’aime, Yuu.”

A blush instantly made its way onto her face. “Tsun– M-Malleus?”

“Though this trip didn’t quite go as I had expected, I’m glad I got to spend some of this time with you. Je t’aime.” He said again, this time placing another gentle kiss on her lips.

In a heartbeat her hands moved to cup his face to kiss him back. “I.. I love you too.” She breathed. “So much..”

They held each other close as the sun continued to rise. Soon it would be time to head back to NRC, but until then, the new couple had a few more hours to dance atop the Bell Tower, just the two of them until it was time to officially leave Fleur City.

[macabrecake]

cake, my beloved, idk if you've been asked this but given this is the stuff you've been putting out - I thought I'd ask,

dam! leon x fem! reader x re6! leon smut?

pls and ty <3

I. AM. ON. MY. KNEES. RIGHT NOW. GOD HELP

Thought ID and Vendetta Leon was the final boss??? NAH IT'S THESE FUCKING TWO

LOOK AT THEM AND TRY TO CONVINCE ME THAT YOU WOULD STILL BE ABLE TO WALK AFTER THEY'RE DONE WITH YOU. Also hi I'm cutting this close but Merry Christmas Gabby! Have a sandwich! 💕💕💕

Minors step back this is a whole different kind of Christmas present.

"Come on sweetheart. You're not tired already, are you?"

Tired no.

But oh so ready to finally break.

Leon Scott Kennedy, and Leon Scott Kennedy two years from now, have been at this sweetly cruel game for what felt like ages.

It started when one kiss turned into two, then three, then five more.

One suddenly gives into his need for a challenge and shows, despite them being the same, just who exactly is the one and only man that can rock your world the best. In the form of a gentle bite turned hickey where he knows it'll get you squirming the most.

His counterpart decides to outdo him and places another, before a small galaxy ends up being intricately printed onto your skin. Leaving you breathless and needy. Much to both Leon's delight at seeing your panties ruined with just how unbearably soaked you were.

That's when they both lit this match that would set your body ablaze with high pitched mewls and gibberish filled whimpers when your husband finally slipped inside your wet, aching walls. Inch by inch until he bottomed out completely. Then softly bounced you on his cock, while his counterpart's fingers touched where you desperately craved him.

They'd watch like starving wolves at the point where your cunt would visibly flutter and squeeze every time the brunette would sink back in with the most satisfying squelch.

Squishing you between them more so you're certain to not miss those beautiful words and wonderful groans of his that burn you hotter.

"Look at you honey, so good for us.~"

"Always so fucking tight around me…"

You know he and himself do it on purpose. They wanna see you absolutely writhe for them.

Slow and soft at first. Then a little faster, and faster, harder.

So close.

Always so close.

A half driven delirious idea that Leon is finally going to let you fall into that blissful, messy heaven. Only for all of it to stop. And steadily start over again. They're both testing you and it's driving you mad in the best way possible.

Funny. Earlier you thought Leon's future blonde headed self would be the more gentleman-like to balance them both out, right?

Wrong.

He definitely still possesses that rough nature, not that you're complaining though to be honest. They'll both still treat you right, even in the meanest of ways.

"What's the matter, Princess?" The blonde softly cooes with a light nip to your ear, relaxing his arm just enough for you to quietly gasp. Greedily swallowing new lungfuls of air before the flex of his arm makes it shallow again. But you trust him, knowing he won't completely cut your oxygen off. Only enough to keep you perfectly suspended, high like a drug you know you couldn't live without.

He makes you never want to be sober.

"You wanna cum, don't you?" God, they have both edged you to oblivion and back to the point that your pussy immediately tightens up at just the word itself, which pulls a small hiss from your Leon considering his dick is still resting inside you. So deep you swear you could feel it in your throat. You want it to break you.

Ruin you.

They both see how much of a mess you are. There's a puddle on Leon's lap and if you were to stand up right now, your essence would be a dribbling mess down to your knees and onto the floor. Your lips let go of the most pitiful whine, desperate enough to take a chance that you lightly move your hips in a search for that sinfully amazing friction. Hoping they'll now show you mercy.

Sympathy isn't what you find however, instead it's those familiar hot blooded hands clamping down tight on your hips to cease your movements altogether. The moment you softly gasped, you knew it was a bad move. One that has you shrinking submissively before the intimidating blue flames that dance in his eyes. Feeling dark colored fringes lightly brush your cheek when he leans closer. "Didn't say you could move."

Leon's voice drops an octave, almost to a snarl with his waning patience. But he knows you love to hear it. Even if you don't admit it through words, your body betrays you when your hot, squishy walls twitch around him again. It's enough for the ghost of a smirk to tug at his lips, but that's not what he's after. "And I asked you a question…"

"Yes!" You immediately yelp, your hands already grasping at his future version's arm around your neck for dear life with another tear filled sob. "Please please please yes!"

Definitely an answer both Leon's like, but not the one he wants. One hand leaves your hips to travel up and take hold of your chin, forcing your gaze to fully lock with his. "Yes what?" The brunette hisses dangerously low against your lips.

"Yes I wanna cum, sir." Comes your breathless whisper. So so ready for that euphoric coil in your lower belly to wind up and snap, you almost didn't get all the words out. Luckily it's enough to reward you with the light scratch of stubble when he presses a hard kiss to your lips that steals what little breath you have, "Much better." Then another pair of lips sneak over to lay some love to your cheek with a smile against your ear. That wonderfully smooth tone uttering his praise. "Atta girl."

Atta girl indeed because finally…

Finally, your wish is fulfilled.

In the form of the blonde agent's hand taking yours and guiding it down to your drenched little pearl to softly press on it. The action reaches into your lungs to tear an airy moan from you at the sudden jolt to your core, that would've most definitely removed you from Leon altogether if the hands on your hips and the arm still locked around your neck wasn't there to keep you in place.

A warm sound vibrates against your back, that pretty chuckle of his. And oh his words that rumble into your ear. So sinfully sweet.

"Play with yourself for us."

"Show us what you like, Princess.~"

Given how Leon has pleasured you to the point you were nothing but putty by just his hands numerous times before, you'd think he already knows what you like. But you're quick to spot the underlying truth.

They both wanna watch you get yourself off.

Normally such a bold request like that would leave you rather timid, but you can't take another second of this game anymore. Your body is aching for a release to the point you can't help but obey. Letting a cry tear it's way out of your throat as your fingers desperately rub and caress your little pink bundle of nerves. Relieved for that spark of sweet friction tingling your senses.

Much to the delight of the two agents, watching your hand work and listening to your moans, sighs, and little whines steadily rise in volume and string together into a beautiful melody of your own making. Such wonderful sounds pairing with the most lewd gushy noise between your legs. Amazing.

It's much more than enough to pull a deep rooted groan from your Leon, "Fuck." He curses in a hoarse whisper, "Feel you getting close, Sunshine." His fingers dig deeper into the soft flesh of your hips. Forcing you to stay still so you won't ride him. Just to be a little mean, but also because the way your heat clamps down tighter around his twitching cock is a slice of heaven in itself. The moment you start bouncing, he knows he'll be done for.

Seems his future version knows it too, given his low chuckle into your skin. "That's it, Sunshine." Leon encourages between gentle open mouthed kisses up and up until his lips capture yours, while his free hand easily engulfs your breast to pinch and toy with your hardened bud before switching to give the other some attention.

You feel him smile and hum as he happily drinks up your muffled moans like it's a shot of his favorite whiskey. Until he pulls away to whisper against your kissed swollen lips.

"Let go, we'll catch you."

Oh Leon. Always so good with his words, his touches. Everything. It does the trick, almost a little too well in fact. Like a tsunami, your orgasm crashes into you hard enough to leave you squirting. But, as promised, both Leon's squish you close when your form trembles and writhes between the two with a loud moan of ecstasy filling the comfortable space of the bedroom.

But with the gaze your Leon fixes on his blonde headed self, he knew right away. You made such a pretty mess with his dick still nestled so deep inside you, he couldn't help but get a little greedy.

"W- ait! Leon Oh f-uck! T-too much! AH!" You squeal with a gasp while your dainty hands frantically grab at Leon's wrist in a weak attempt to move his fingers away when he rubs them mercilessly against your visibly pulsing clit. All you get from him, is a loving growl.

"Keep cumming, sweetheart." Lord help, what's left for him to love if he breaks you like this? Your senses are already too high and so sensitive, you don't know if you can handle anymore.

Thankfully, his movements are quick to cease as soon as he hears your sounds beginning to drift into sobs. Bringing his hands away to gently stroke your quivering thighs instead while his future self releases you from your headlock prison. Keeping you leaned back against him while he carefully kisses at your neck, further helping to ease you back down.

"There you are." A deep tone drips into your ears like honey, once you finally open your eyes. Only to release a tired, breathless giggle at the two pairs of sweet blue eyes centered on you. "Got scared I broke you for a second." Your Leon muses, gifting you a gentle apologetic kiss. "No, but… I don't know if I can go again." You sheepishly confess between quiet pants.

Two soft laughs from the same voice and a kiss to the crown of your head help put you at ease. "It's ok, baby." Leon reassures while his blonde counterpart tugs you a little closer. Letting the two wrap you up in his shared warmth filled with sweet kisses and gentle caresses that convey all you want to know.

The night is far from over.

[hopeswriting]

Not the same anon as before but I have a question about Sephira and Luce. Would Sephira becoming the Sky arcobaleno not defeat the whole purpose of the pacifiers being made? Kawahira states they were made because the earthlings could not maintain the balance themselves anymore. I know people in her family eventually became cursed but it doesn’t seem like she is? In that picture you show her being normal sized and not a baby too.

My question for Luce is that I swear we see her become cursed on the mountain and become a baby. Why did she become a baby if she got the curse from her mom but not Aria or Uni? Why did she bother going to the mountain? To keep up appearances?

I hope all the questions are okay. These are questions I’ve always wondered and you seem knowledgeable

[in reference to this ask]

hi nonny, thank you for the ask!

yeah we're all good with all your questions, no worries haha. to answer them in order, i do get why you'd think that about sepira. like you said, as the numbers of earthlings started decreasing, eventually they weren't enough of them left anymore to be able to keep sustaining the seven stones that was originally the trinisette by themselves. so they took some of the stones and broke them down into seven more parts (the pacifiers), so they could use the help of humans to keep sustaining it.

but it still doesn't change the fact that it's their duty to look after the trinisette, right? and as earthlings, they're the ones most suited to do it and likely can do it the more safely/longer/while feeling minimum side effects from it. so i can see sepira ending up with the sky pacifier/choosing to become its bearer as her caring to keep doing her duty for as long as she can, but also as some kind of safeguarding of some sort. because like, humans weren't supposed to be the ones to look after the trinisette nor are they naturally suited for it. and the sky pacifier being a particularly important part of the trinisette, they choose one of them to be its bearer, give the six other pacifiers to humans, and keep looking after the remaining stones themselves. (because remember, but at this point there's still five earthlings left, including kawahira and sepira.)

and yes, sepira isn't a baby in that panel, but it's because none of the sky arco are ever turned into babies! i know in the anime luce is shown being turned into a baby, but it's during the arco filler arc so, you know, it's not canon. and even in the manga there's some cover pages where amano drew her as a baby too, but i really think it's just for aesthetic purposes so she doesn't stand out from the rest of the arco she's drawn alongside with. because as far as the manga in and of itself says, in the rainbow arc byakuran explicitly says the sky arco aren't turned into babies, but in exchange their particular curse takes the form of a short lifespan.

[ID copied from alt-text: Panels from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Byakuran says, "The Arcobaleno of the Sky's curse is different from all the other Arcobaleno's curses... Their forms can't be changed. Luce, Aria, and Yuni... All of them are connected with the same... short life-span. /End ID]

as for the way luce ended up cursed compared to aria and uni, bermuda explains to reborn and tsuna that kawahira chooses/curses the arco through two different methods. i'm not gonna put all the relevant panels because it's basically the whole of chapter 386 lol, but yeah, here:

[ID copied from alt-text: Other panels from the manga. Bermuda says, "A passing on to the next generation is set up. Sometimes as a contracted job, sometimes as a representative war. These two things happen once, spread out far apart in a cycle so that it doesn't remain in people's memories. The Rainbow Representative War and the Fated Day." /End ID]

so basically, kawahira either gathers the next generation of arco under the guise of gathering the seven strongest, giving them missions so they can prove themselves worthy of the title, until eventually he gives them a last mission to gather them together so he can curse them. or he baits them with the possibility of earning their freedom from the curse by winning the representative war, making them (which is so sick of him now i think about it actually) gather the current strongest of the next generation so he can choose among them who are the most suitable to become the next arco.

so luce ending up cursed through the fated day is because by then, the cycle of choosing/cursing the next arco was just back to happen through the fated day. and meanwhile aria and uni inherited it from their respective mother, because the sky arco's curse is a short lifespan, and so there's the need of multiple sky arco for one generation of arco until the time to choose the next generation of arco altogether comes around again. or at least, that's how i personally make sense of the arco lore haha.

hopefully i managed to clear things up for you some nonny!

[queen-scribbles]

Balancing Act

Hey hey, I have more Ody/Chance fic! Not a prompt fill or anything just straight-up wanted to write them more, so I made a follow-up to Occupational Hazard. ^_^ ---

She made it almost a month before her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself slicing into the medcenter records.

I just want to check on him, Odessa rationalized. I'm not after anything the doctors wouldn't just tell me if I were dating him as a Republic citizen. It was a thin justification, which was part of why she was doing this from her personal datapad, in her quarters, with the door locked. (The rest, of courses, being she didn't need her crew knowing she was in a relationship with a Republic spy.)

The pathways were already laid from her first time infiltrated system to find him, even if they didn't fully remain. It made this faster, easier, though she was careful not to let it make her sloppy. It also made it easier to avoid extraneous data; the path led straight to the file she sought.

Rieves, S. She bit her lip as she skimmed past the personal information, name, date of birth, the classified tag on his involvement with Ardun's team as background for his injuries. Ongoing treatment, there we go...

Someone had been keeping very studious updates, almost daily. She couldn't tell from the ID tag if it was a medtech or doctor(probably the former). Whoever it was, she wanted to hug them. The notes made it clear 'steady but slow' was the best descriptor for his progress. There were addendums about muscle damage, scarring, probable mobility limitations, more positive references to the healing progression in other areas.

Odessa read them with the same focus she gave mission briefings. Truth be told, she cared about this significantly more. Between her training around human anatomy and bits picked up from Dr. Lokin, she was able to parse the main points. There was a note from only two days prior cautioning about physical recovery limits and recommending his superiors be apprised as requested.

She winced and backed out of the file, careful to cover her tracks on the way and wipe the history on her datapad. Seemed like his guesses from when she visited were sound--not in life-threatening danger but highly unlikely to recover enough for field work.

She'd wanted to know. Now she knew. The scarring was unlikely to heal further, all but guaranteed limits to mobility... It would be a lot to handle. She wished she could be there with him.

---

C--

I wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you. I'm grateful we got to talk things out and more than satisfied with the conclusion. The only thing lacking is an easy way to be there. Looking forward to next time. x

--L

---

Between tracking down the Star Cabal and "official" assignments, she was too busy to dwell on anything outside work for several days. That didn't keep bashful smiles and warm brown eye from her dreams, of course, but she didn't have time to do much more than dream.

---

Odessa,

This datapad and contact channel each have about three layers of encryption on them. None SIS. Ardun had me trick them out before... you know. He didn't want them traced to the Republic if one of us got caught or one got lost. Point being, it's secure on my end if you want to be direct. We don't need to use spyspeak or vague generalities, just don't put so much traffic on this channel it draws attention and we'll be okay.

All that said, it's good to hear from you. I hope you're keeping safe, though I know that's hard under the circumstances. I'm in pretty much the same spot as when you were here. Can't go far without help, trying to balance progress with not making things worse. The doctor's happy with the rate, director isn't. We'll see how that ends up. I know the odds of it being any time soon are low, but I'm looking forward to next time. Helps keep me going.

Sollen

---

"You're remarkable chipper today, Cipher." Dr. Lokin still used her former title with such intentionality Odessa wondered if he'd chosen to forget her name.

"Am I? I don't feel much different," she said, tone light. She knew better than to lie to a fellow--more experienced--liar, but also didn't want to discuss the matter. The messages on her datapad were just for her.

"Mm. There's something about your mood..." He shook his head. "Forgive an old man his habits. We had a job to do, didn't we?"

She wasn't fooled; the good doctor suspected something now. She'd be under observation. Wish I'd brought Vector. She normally would have; aside from being her friend, he never pried for her thoughts before she was willing to share them. But with rumors of rakghouls or something like them infesting the swamps here, Dr. Lokin was the only logical choice. Even if it meant her balancing the risk of monsters against the risk of discovery. She wasn't sure which was more daunting.

---

Sollen,

I think in your situation, the doctor's approval of how things are going is more important than the director's, though I know it bodes certain things for your career. Look at it as time to think about what you want. Please don't push, take your time so the healing happens properly. I'm keeping busy, but rest assured the next chance to visit will be seized with both hands. Missing you. x

---

A week with no reply had her ansty-- last time he'd replied same day--and that was not a good frame of mind for what she was gearing up to do.

It's infiltrating an estate, she told herself, triple checking she had everything she might need. You've done similar jobs a dozen times. Stay focused and there shouldn't be a problem.

She wasn't expecting to encounter a familiar face, though the familiar part didn't register until she'd leveled a blaster at him.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she drawled, sotto voce.

A low, sardonic chuckle. "Agreed, but it's good to see you all the same, Legate."

She stepped closer, lowering her blaster and her voice. "Likewise, Ardun, but what are you doing here?"

"I suspect the same thing as you," he said with a thin smile. "The baron is a member in formerly good standing with the Star Cabal. Thought the galaxy might be better off without him roaming it unchecked."

"You suspect correctly, though I was planning to rifle his databanks before I did anything to the man directly," she confirmed with a nod.

"Then I have a proposition, assuming this is a personal mission rather than official one." He waited for her to nod again before continuing, "We should work together; you take the data, I'll take the baron. SIS has been pursuing objectives from the Codex and he's the next link in a chain that's very close to snagging some very big fish."

Odessa paused, considering. On-site backup would be useful, and she had been wondering how to handle the baron. "You have a deal. You'll pass along anything you learn from him?"

Ardun nodded. "Might even slip you an assignment or two, if we can manage it."

"Sounds like a plan." She gripped her blaster and gestured for him to take the lead. They accomplished both objectives with very little fuss. Just about the smoothest Odessa had ever seen an op go.

"Do you have a team to help extract him?" she asked, gesturing toward the drugged noble.

Ardun was already raising a comlnk. "Not far," he answered her, before clicking it on. "Saber, Coin, we're ready for our ride."

There was a pair of staticky clicks but no verbal reply.

Coin, hm? "Still enjoying sabacc, I see," she commented.

He shrugged. "It works, and I like to give the team a sense of stability."

"Do you..." she hesitated before gambling on the question, "know how Chance is doing?"

Ardun gave her a keen look in the starlight, like he'd heard her almost say Sollen, and smiled faintly. "Last I heard he was recovering well. Doesn't seem likely he'll be returning to field work, though, which is a shame. With the war and everything I can't keep as close tabs as I'd like on non-active agents."

There was a trickle of disappointment even if that was roughly the answer she expected. "Glad he's recovering," she murmured, looking off the balcony to scan for his ride. She wanted to be gone before they got here.

"Any particular reason you're interested?"

"We were working together when he got hurt, I just want to be sure he's alright," Odessa deflected.

"Mm. I'm sure he'd appreciated the concern," Ardun said with a half smile that was too knowing by half for her taste.

She grimaced to herself. Jedi. It was easy to forget his past life still clung to him. Wonder how much he can sense... "Good luck with your prize," she said, rather than follow that line any further.

There was a flicker of motion off the balcony, commotion stirring among the estate guards below.

"Same to you, Legate, but here's my ride, and I think that's our cue. I assume you're alright making your own way out?"

Odessa nodded. "I'm very good at making an exit," she said, sardonic smile curving her lips.

She ducked away before the darkened speeder pulled up, using the guards' focus on that to make her own escape easier. She wondered if the SIS would actually get anything from the baron, if he was as important to the Star Cabal as he seemed. Suppose I'll find out if Ardun passes anything along, but I think I got the better end of the deal.

---

Dessa,

Shouldn't I be more worried about you than the other way around? Seems like it would fit the circumstances better. I am listening to the doctors, I promise. But rehab is rehab, which sometimes means not much happens for a while. Think I'm in one of those ruts now. They had to do another surgery on something that wasn't healing right, which slowed things down more. It's boring when the therapist isn't here, being so limited in what I can do. I hope you're being safe. Keep out of trouble when you can, huh? For my sake if nothing else.

Sollen

---

Odessa bit back a giddy smile and tugged a lock off hair as she read the message that had been waiting when she returned to the ship. Vector and Temple were sifting through the data she'd found, Kaliyo and Lokin were running recognizance, SCORPIO was doing another 'self-improvement' update; this was the closest to safely alone she would get.

So she read it again. And again. Let the warmth bloom in her chest, running her fingers over the last couple sentences. You're too good for me, Sollen Rieves.

She tapped her nails against the edge of the datapad.

"I hope you're being safe."

She stared at the words a moment longer, then pushed to her feet. Four months was long enough.

---

She was a little more daring this time, slipping in at midday under an alias rather than play the evening ghost. The records would show her there to visit a completely different patient, if anything flagged enough for them to be checked in the first place, and she knew how to time things so the security cameras didn't catch her.

He was up when she reached his room, moving very carefully around the space. Odessa leaned against the wall to watch, not wanting to break his concentration(even though she was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to do this alone). He kept close to walls and furniture, she noted, even as he did his best to walk without touching any of them.

His limp was very pronounced; she could see why both he and Ardun had expressed doubt he'd return to field work. A limp like that was easy to clock, nigh impossible to conceal or alter, and would make quick escapes... tricky at best. And if it was still that bad after a year and a half of surgery, kolto, and rehab, it likely wasn't going to get much better.

Sollen's hand brushed the window sill briefly, then, two very deliberate steps later, grabbed for a chair as his knee buckled.

"Chance--!" It was knee-jerk to fall back on the code name as she bolted to catch him.

He swiveled to answer, all the same. Apparently old habits died hard for both of them. They stared at each other a moment, surprise and embarrassment warring in his wide brown eyes.

"..."Hi," he finally said.

Odessa smiled, hand still around his arm. "Hi."

"What're you doing here? Not that I'm unhappy about it," Sollen added, ears going pink. "Just... very pleasantly surprised."

It was her turn to flush, having to actually put it words. "You know what they say about absence and hearts," she mumbled as she shifted her grip to help him sit in the chair he'd grabbed for support. "I missed you."

"Oh." he sat heavily with a grimace and took a moment to catch his breath. The pink was spreading from his ears to his neck and cheeks. "Good timing. And, um, I missed you, too."

She sat in another chair, scooting it closer to his as she did. "Was this listening to your doctor, Sollen?"

"I am supposed to get exercise," he said. She didn't miss the way his hand massaged just above the bad knee. "And I have been doing better, this was just a cramp."

Odessa bit her lip. "I hate to be a nag our first time seeing each other in months, but are you supposed to be doing that alone? Everyone I know who's been hurt badly enough to require rehab was supposed to have someone with them whenever they worked on anything that could... stress their injuries." She rested her hand over his.

Sollen smiled. "They said as long as I'm careful, which I am. I appreciate you being worried, though."

"Of course." His hand was warm under hers, small rough patches speaking of scars not visible at a glance. She swept her thumb across his knuckles, relishing the simple fact she got to hold his hand. "A lot of my work these days is just watching and waiting, it seems your circumstances carry more risk," she half-teased lightly.

"Only from my own clumsiness," he snorted.

It's not clumsiness if you're healing from serious injuries. She pursed her lips and sent him a mischievous smile. "Would you like a shoulder to lean on getting back to the bed, in that case?"

"Might not be a bad idea, so I don't fall on my face if nothing else," Sollen said wryly.

"Well, we wouldn't want that." She stood and let him use her arm for leverage to do the same. He slid an arm around her shoulder and she instinctively wrapped one around his waist in response. "What are the odds of some orderly or medtech catching us like this and being curious?"

Sollen leaned heavily on her for a moment, his grip tightening. "Low but existent. Lunch was... not quite an hour ago, so we have a bit before they do rounds. And those can vary on timing; it depends on what --if anything--the people ahead of you need." They reached the bed, but he seemed reluctant to change position. Odessa caught him studying her when she looked up. "I'm... pretty stable, so I'm low on the list. You look tired, Dessa."

"I am," she admitted easily. No point lying. "Didn't you mention having another surgery in your last message?" Much as she too enjoyed their current position, she didn't want him to push it. She pressed a hand against his chest to nudge him toward the bed.

"Yeah, but it wasn't anything major this time," he said, his hand lingering as it slid down her arm when he sat. "Somethin' about muscles pulled too tight on the back of my leg."

"Major or not, I'd think a recent surgery would make you a higher priority," Odessa murmured as she helped him get settled. "And that sounds pretty major to me."

"It was a couple days in kolto to make sure things didn't heal to tight again and make the limp worse. No complications or anything," Sollen assured her, though he held his leg in a position that spoke to something still being sore. "They're still checking it a couple times a day, there's nothing to worry about."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it." She sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively rested her hand on his leg near where he'd been massaging. "Is the cramp gone?"

It took a moment from him to look up and meet her eyes. "Mostly."

"Good." She left her hand where it was. "Then we can enjoy what time we have before it gets interrupted."

"What, are you planning to leave if someone shows up?"

"Don't you think that's best?" Odessa sighed, her thumb rubbing arcs as the warmth of his skin soaked through the fabric. "I imagine I'll be difficult to explain."

"Not really." Sollen was studying her face again. "Odessa, are... are you having second thoughts?"

"Of course not!" Knee-jerk instinct put more vehemence behind the words than intended. She swallowed to rein herself in, and gently squeezed his knee. "I don't want to make trouble, or cause enough of an impression I get remembered. I have to balance wanting to see you with being a ghost, at least as far as the Empire's concerned."

"Ah. Well..." He sifted position with a grimace so fleeting she wondered if she imagined it. "That's easy; we can just say you're someone I work with. It's not even a lie, and the doctors know I'm SIS, so they'll just assume you are, too."

Also not technically a lie, even if only three people in the whole galaxy know that. "Smart man," Odessa chuckled. He was right, that was the most logical conclusion people would draw. She was being paranoid.

Sollen shrugged. "I dunno about that, I just... if it's going to be another four months--or longer--before we get to actually see each other again, I want to enjoy this visit as long as we can, rather than you skittering into the ether at the first hint of being seen, you know?"

She did know, and she agreed. But she was an allegedly loyal Imperial on the Republic homeworld, with no idea what other operative from "her" government might be active. Lokin's rubbing off on you. The thought made her shudder.

"I want that, too," She slid her hand from hiss lag to take his hand instead. "I know it's hard not getting to be normal about... a relationship, but I would very much like to enjoy the time we get as well."

"Good to know." He smiled shyly and squeezed her hand. "So, how much of what you've been up to can you talk about...?"

"Oh, most of it," Odessa laughed. "Official assignments have been light; I'm mostly working on my personal project." She paused. "I ran into a mutual friend on Alderaan..."

It was four uninterrupted hours later and closing in on dinner time when she finally--reluctantly--took her leave. "You need rest and I need to get back before my team wonders if I got eaten by a black hole."

He laughed as he let go of her hand. "Wouldn't want that. See you next time, Dessa."

She nodded, warmth spiraling in her chest. "Next time." She leaned in to brush a kiss against his temple and headed for her shuttle fighting a smile.

And losing.

[callgespenst]

I went to another mahjong tournament! I didn't do as well this one, but I still wanted to write about it.

This one was even closer to home, with a cool sixty people participating for top eight spots. I helped out a little with setup, doing some laminating and cutting out score sheets while people filed in. Then we got started nice and early.

First game I ended up in third with a cool 28600. Not the best start, but not too bad, either. Easy enough to come back from, I thought.

Second game was the only one where I came in first. I started as dealer and got a mangan tsumo. A complete closed ittsu, riichi, pinfu, one uradora. The rest of the game I went for very small cheap hands. I think that's actually my biggest regret during the tournament. While I had some flow, I really could have taken those hands further for more value, instead of cheapening them at the first chance.

Break for lunch! I lost my work ID badge while I was out. I got it when I went back the next day, but that was an undue source of stress.

Game three was a lot of back and forth with big hands until at all-last, it was me in last place, with first only 4k away. In the process of getting a decent hand, I dealt in, taking me to fourth with 23k. The uma bonus doubled my losses there.

Game four I, don't remember at all. I definitely got fourth again and it wasn't particularly close this time.

Game five was another bad start. I had a solid riichi and a strong start, before dealing into the dealer's mangan hand at the last possible tile. I definitely gave up there for a second. I was down. I was flat out miserable, I think. Some real "mahjong injures the soul" type stuff going through my head.

Anyway a few hands in I finally came to a realization. A simple, but important one. Sitting there stewing, I thought, "why am I feeling bad? I'm in this tournament to have fun. Getting into the finals is a nice bonus". And suddenly, I didn't mind I wasn't doing so well. I had still been playing my best! That's the nature of the game, to play well and still lose.

At that point I entered some odd semi-manic state. I was grooving. I was turning it around. I think it was South 3 when I finally managed to put a worthwhile hand together. I started with a lot of nothing and honor tiles, and kept drawing souzu tiles. The dora was the 4-man, which I had one of. I was in a good state, but I really needed to draw into a pair if I wanted to declare riichi and add some more value. It finally came to me and I was in tenpai with a 2-5-8 sou wait. I declared riichi and drew the 2-sou the next turn. Riichi, ippatsu, tsumo, iipeikou, pinfu, tanyao, dora 2, plus an aka dora. That baiman...still only cemented me in third at 20-something, but it was still a damn sight better than I had been doing for the previous two games.

Here we break for the day. I went home and went straight to bed, basically.

Game 6 the next morning, I was feeling pretty good still. I was at a table with other players who hadn't been doing too hot so far. This was a chance to at least get back plus! That was, until the dealer started with a haneman tsumo. There was really no coming back from that. The game wrapped up for time in South 3 on my dealer turn, I got a dealer mangan for another 20k-ish 3rd place. If the match hadn't been timed I might have been able to take it a little further, but that's probably as good as I was going to get.

The last game before cutoff, Game 7. I started as dealer. Everyone's extra tense. I'm still aiming to get back to net positive. The player to my right is still holding onto hopes of making top eight. The player across from me just needs a solid-ish game to keep their finals spot. It really all comes down to this.

The player across from me wins East 1 with a cheap hand, ending my dealer run in a hurry. In East 2, he pons a triplet of the dora, leading into a haneman tsumo. East 3, it's his turn as dealer. I cut the dora, the 4-pin, early, it doesn't fit into my hand, I want to get rid of it before someone else needs it. Too late! The dealer calls it. Just after that, I draw the haku. I look right at it. I look at the dealer's discards, all the visible tiles. There's no particularly strong evidence the dealer's not just going for tanyao, and yet, I /know/ this is his winning tile. And yet, I don't want to fold either. I deal into another dealer mangan. But I don't feel too bad about it, somehow, because/despite I saw it coming.

I did manage one decent win at some point between that hand and South 3. I was in third again. I dealt into one big hand, but the player to my left had dealt into just about every other hand that wasn't a tsumo. The player across from me had been largely unstoppable.

It's South 3, 1 honba. I know this is my last chance for something resembling a turnaround. The dora is the south, the round wind. I have one of them. I have a pair of the east, a pair of the 1-pin, a pair of the 9-pin. This, I figure, will have to do. I call the east straight away. Everyone becomes extremely wary when I'm calling something that's neither my wind nor the round wind. I still manage to call the 1-pin and 9-pin and draw into a triplet of the south. It goes to an abortive draw. There was no way anyone was going to deal in at that point, but I managed to get to tenpai on a ridiculous, toitoi, honroutou, hon itsu, nan, dora 3 hand. Another baiman if I could have drawn a hatsu to complete my pair (they were in someone else's hand). I didn't win the hand, but I controlled the flow for a solid minute and forced the dealer to fold. He immediately won South 4 with a 1300 point hand, of course, but for a moment, I had something beautiful going on.

I was pretty proud of my Day 2, despite getting third twice and being even more minus than before. I got lunch and went home early. And frankly, I'm pretty glad I didn't get into the finals, the tournament went for another seven hours after lunch ended.

I definitely want to do this again sometime soon. Not too soon, and I don't want to go too far, either, which severely limits my options. But I'm also, not as sick of mahjong as I was after I left the last tournament I went to, I think that's good too.

[ellegreenawayslover]

20 Author Questions

I was tagged by @blackbird-brewster and @tedwinisconfused :) (This took me too long haha)

1. How many words do you have on AO3?

I have 12 works, two are not finished, and the rest are mostly one-shots. I also have like 4 or 5 other works in my docs that I really need to finish.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

74,082!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly criminal minds.

I do have a few fics from other shows, but that is just because every time two women look at each other for a couple of seconds, I like to write them being in love. I haven't necessarily watched the show they are from. And most of them are just sitting in my docs and will probably will stay there forever.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Happy birthday!

Bedtime stories

Home

Paris is lonely in the mornings

Hope (is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES!! Every. Single. One.

My heart melts every time I see that someone commented on one of my fics. I would love to hug every person who takes the time to comment on one of my fics and give them a little kiss on their forehead, but I can't. The only thing I can do is reply to those comments and let them know how much it meant to me! :)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't written much angst that I like enough to post. And I usually write more hurt/comfort than angst, but I have a few of them.

The angstiest I have written so far is Paris is lonely in the mornings or (and if I didn't know better) I'd think you were still around. But I think once I finish the jemily fic I'm writing based on Is it over now? they won't be the angstiest anymore :).

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like I said, I usually write hurt/comfort or just fluff, so I don't which one has the happiest ending, but here are the softest fics I have written: Personal prayer, Home, Happy birthday! and When Elle falls in love.

Not the happiest ending as such because it isn't finished yet, but my Elle fic Hope (is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have) is on its happy Elle face, and it will have a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't (and I'm really grateful because I wouldn't know how to react, to be honest).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have written a few fics with smut, but I haven't written enough to know what I like to write if that makes sense.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have. But in the sense of taking a character from another show/movie and making them appear in a fic of another one. Most of the time, I make them into a sort of original character and keep their name.

11. Have you ever had a fiction stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

(Unless you count me translating them into Spanish and keep that somewhere in my docs and forgetting they exist until months later and then delete them. I don't know why I do this because even though Spanish is my first language, I haven't really written in Spanish for years.)

13. Have you ever co-writtten a fic before?

Nope. I don't think I'd be able to because I write the ideas that have been stuck in my mind, but I can't explain them until they are finished (I don't know if it makes sense).

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Jemily!! I love them so much!

I also love Elle with any other female character, and lately, I've been writing more of Elle/JJ and Elle/Emily.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have too many WIPs in my docs, and I hope to finish all of them, but I don't know if I will or when I will.

One I don't know if I will finish, and it breaks my heart because I really loved it at first, is one about Emily in Paris when she is "dead," and although I wanted it to have a happy ending, it is pretty angsty, and I don't have the energy to go back to it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

If I am writing a fic about a little idea I had, I have all the details of what I want to write in my head and in a little notebook I take everywhere. I think I'm pretty good at describing the emotions the characters are feeling. So that, I guess.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

It usually takes me so long to write, but in the I can write 70% of something in 4/5 hours but spend twice the time for the other 30% way. I always have too many things in my brain, so focusing on just one to write is the most difficult thing sometimes, and my dyslexia won't let me write the things I want to write in a way that makes sense.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I love it, but when it is a language I don't know, I'm too scared to do it haha.

I do love to write some parts in Spanish in my fics.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was for a Spanish show about doctors that my best friend and I were obsessed with back when I was 11/12. After that, I would say a few other Spanish shows.

Criminal Minds was the first fandom I wrote that wasn't just for my best friend and me

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I have an immense amount of love for Hope (is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have). That fic is my baby.

I also have a special love for The first step toward healing and Happy birthday! They are the first fics I wrote that I let other people read, and they are so special to me.

Tagging: @introverted-author @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @5ivebyfive @alexblakeisgay (no pressure though)

[charlotteiscrying]

i always figured you wanted something real, because that’s what you told me. i thought you wanted something more than skin deep, you know that whole reason why you fucking other girls didn’t count as cheating to you. i allowed it, because i thought we had something more than just skin. i’ve always understood sex is just a verb, i believe that so much because ive never once been looking for only sex. yes you have a huge dick. but i love you for other reasons, for how you treated me, how you cared for me, kept me safe, protected me. how you helped me though my toughest times and inspired me to change n get through them. how you looked at me, the way that i can feel the energy radiating off your skin even when you aren’t touching me. how you hugged me, how you were able to be vulnerable around me. how you’d talk in ur lil jit voice, how whenever we saw a lil kid you’d tell me how bad you wanted a mini-us. how you gave me access to the version of you that no other human has, or will ever, see.

i asked you so many times to tell me why you loved me. to give me a reason, to say something nice so that i could get my mind (that was screaming at me to give up on you) to relax, to rest for at least one night. i wanted you to reassure me that you love me for the way i’ve helped you, for what i’ve done for you, for me caring n fighting to stay in your life thru all this. for me being the one n only person you’ve ever been able to open up to in this world. for me helping you through your toughest time in this life, when your ex told you she never loved you, it had always been fake. that crushed you. i saw the way you texted her for months after that. it took you six months of having me in your life to “get over her” enough to “date” me. if one year of fake with her caused that much damage to you, think of what two years of fake codependency, love, and drug addiction with you has done to me ? and, unfortunately, i don’t have a charlotte to come love me outta this.

i wish so bad i hadn’t told you how every man in my life has always only looked at me for only my body and what i have. i wish i hadn’t told you what i truly wanted. to be loved as the soul inside my body. you listened to exactly what i wanted, and you shoved your demon body into the cookie cutter shape my brain needed to see in order to feel love. you took residency up in my mind, just to take notes on what would get my hopes up, n what would crush them even harder. you’ve lived with me for the past two years. 700+ days, living in my family’s home, with me, because you had nowhere else to go, and i love you. even to this day, even after you’ve hurt me this bad, i’d rather let you live with me than know you’re homeless out in that snow right now. i bought you over $100,000 in drugs, because i’d rather sell my pussy for you than see you withdraw, and i love you. you crashed my bmw, you saved my life in the process, but i committed insurance fraud to keep you outta trouble. had i told my insurance the truth id have a brand new car right now. but id rather commit a huge mf crime (while im on probation for the second time) than put you in $40,000 of debt for crashing a car you didn’t own, that you were driving without insurance.

now im stuck here: no car, no money, no job, no you. you promised me so many times that once you had a job id never have to work a day in my life again. that just wasn’t true- when i flew out to you on my birthday you lied to me about having to pay for your mom’s cancer surgery and chemo, that’s why you couldn’t help pay for my flight, the rental car, the hotel. i should’ve known, i should’ve ended it right then and there. my ex lied to me about his dad being in the hospital, dying from cancer. i knew that was bullshit the second it came out his mouth. he was just saying the buzzword “cancer” because he knew my dad had died from cancer when i was seven, and he wanted sympathy outta me, so i’d give him more money, drugs, whatever he wanted. yet i realized you lied to me about paying for your mom’s chemo, to try and prevent me from flying out to you, and i didn’t blink an eye. my brain was screaming at me, but i ignored it.

am i stupid ? or were you just that good of a liar ? would anyone in my place have fallen for you for as long as i did ? i seriously think that all of us, everything, has just been you manipulating me to get what you wanted from me. once you took everything i could physically give you: you dipped straight tf out. you know what i said before wasn’t entirely true. i’d much rather see you outside, soaking wet and freezing cold from this snow, than EVER let you in my house again. if everything was fake, you never once meant it any of those times you’d say i love you, or when you would actually say the nice things i wanted to hear, you’re actually a demon. and i know you’d take that as a compliment- it should be an insult.

[skorchinq]

Bows Only: So, I Finally Did The Ascension Quest...

[IDs in alt text]

Hey, so, I wrote this post three weeks ago, saved it to my drafts, and then forgot to post it until now. Whoops...

So, uh. Here’s the post. That should’ve been posted three weeks ago. TTwTT

To start off, we’ve got some more Tartaglia pulls...

Another Stringless, huh? Technically even an R1 stringless is better than an R5 Raven Bow, so the logical thing to do here would be to build this as an upgrade for Fischl. But... hmmm... refinements for our current Stringless... mmmm...

I haven’t done it yet but it is certainly tempting. right now I’m just leaving the Stringless at lv. 1 and I’ll decide later whether to use it for refinement or not.

Still no sign of Childe, so we need to get some primos. And what better way than to do some story quests? It’s not like I’m still in the middle of the Inazuma Archon quest and have made barely any progress since 2.8. Hahaha. No way.

We still hadn’t gotten around to Xingqiu’s story quest, and all you do in the character trial bits is fight enemies, no element-based puzzles, so our lack of a hydro bow character was no issue.

And then, what do you know, we actually reached BP 50 in v. 3.2!

This is the first time I’ve reached BP level 50 on this account, so I’m very pleased.

And then, after days of grinding primos from daily commissions, events, and even briefly venturing back into the Spiral Abyss, the last day before Tartaglia’s banner ended:

He finally came home, at 75 pity!

We tried to get him up to speed, fighting the oceanid for his ascension and hunting down some Agents to level up Rust (a weapon which is not only good for him gameplay-wise but also really matches his design aesthetically, btw), but the most challenging thing was probably the starconch hunt... And to think Yelan uses starconches, too...

Then, server maintenance started, and the 3.3 update dropped. I made a couple of wishes in hopes of getting Faruzan, or at least perhaps some Gorou constellations, but...

Bruh...

I went to the crafting bench, because I had things to craft, and accidentally started a quest I meant to do on my main account first:

At first I was confused, but then I realized: of course, Genius Invocation TCG! That’s what this is about!

And this is just the plot of Yu-gi-oh isn’t it. Gosh

Anyway. I got both Gorou and Tartaglia A4, so it was finally time to do the ascension quest! Boy, I sure hope I don’t jump straight up to AR 50 and have to do another ascension quest!

Our boy Childe even lead the charge! And I only very briefly wished I had brought Amber instead after realizing that dendro and cryo can’t destroy the revival prism in a single charged shot like pyro can...

(except that I’m looking at the wiki right now and it says all three of those elements should take the same amount? maybe it has something to do with the level of the hypostasis then, or the individual characters applying more or less of their respective element in a charged shot than another... idk... look the point is every other time I’ve fought this thing both in ascension quest and open world Amber could take out a revival prism in a single shot and neither Diona nor Collei were able to do that this time around)

Regardless, I beat the thing easily enough and completed the domain.

And while it wasn’t quite enough to go straight to 50, it was near enough...

Oh, and DavidBowie is C6 now! How useful!

Either way, it’s time to start working on ascending and leveling up our character more (especially because people I match with in artifact domains keep thinking I’m trolling when I try to bring my lvl 60 Amber and kick me...)

Starting, of course, with the OG, our favorite Outrider Amber!

And now for the rest of them... not to mention everyone’s weapons and talents and artifacts and... ugh...