#the way she was so angry in the aftermath of the death of a lover. that anger born out of grief and love was just so real and heartbreaking

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most. Now dealing with the aftermath makes you question everything.

A/N: Hi friends! Thanks so much for your patience. We lost my mother-in-law last month and it's been a difficult time. But, I've got part two up and have got a good head start on parts 3 and 4. Hopefully updates won't be so far in between. As always, I have to say a special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby who is also my hype princess and most darling friend. I hope you enjoy!

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

In the two days since you returned to the compound, you had rarely left your room. Your body was incredibly sore the first day but it had started to lessen. You were glad the medbay kept a supply of morning after pills. Dr. Miles, your most trusted doctor, had examined you after the fact and said that you should be fully healed in a few days. The examination was a necessary requirement but it had felt like yet another invasion. 

Your emotions were a mess and the doctor had suggested a visit with a counselor to help you work through them. Now, you were starting to wonder if she had been right. Compartmentalizing wasn’t working, you had strange dreams, and your mood was all over the place. You had avoided everyone while you were off-duty to heal. The thought of facing any of them,  especially Bucky, made you sick. By now, you were sure they all knew what happened. Bucky had probably gloated that he had-

You couldn’t even finish the thought and shake it away. When you filled out the mission report, you had simply stated that there was an exposure to an unknown substance that had caused a short-lived fever. Quarantine and a battery of tests had cleared you to return home to the compound. The only person who knew what happened was Dr. Miles and Bucky, of course. Your gut clenched whenever you thought of him, which was often now. Hell, it had always been often. You had been enthralled by his story and excited to join the team. Unfortunately, he had proven to be nothing like you imagined. He seemed to hate you from the moment you were introduced. His comradery with your other teammates was fun and friendly, but with you, he was always scowling and defensive. You had given up after a few attempts at striking up a conversation. He had shut you down and moved away every time. 

And now, you’re a notch on his belt. Not that either of you had chosen it. It was just horrible luck- or was it? Had he purposely led you to that lab? Had he known what was there? What would happen? No, you stop yourself from spiraling. Even if he was a jackass, he wasn’t that kind of person. He had been just as surprised and affected. The thought of how affected he had been made you clench. You hated him but, fuck, that had been the most amazing sex of your life. You wondered if it was the drug or that thick-

Stop it! You hate him! You yell at yourself in your head. You felt concurrently turned on, ashamed, and angry. It was frustrating and eating at you. 

Thinking of eating, your stomach rumbles. It was late and you thought it would be safe to make a quick trip to the kitchen. You had exhausted the supply of snacks in your room and needed some real food. Peeking into the hall, you find it empty and quietly make your way to the kitchen. You make yourself a plate and raid the pantry for more snacks. As you were tip-toeing back to your room you saw Bucky coming out of his room at the other end of the hallway. He froze when he noticed you and watched as you made a mad dash for your room. Inside, you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. Tears streamed down your face for some reason you couldn’t pinpoint. You set everything on your desk and crumpled into a ball on the floor. You rocked as you tried to calm yourself while also berating yourself for your weakness. It was just sex. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like you wanted it or even asked for it. It was just a mutually agreed upon need. 

All your rationalizations did nothing to stop the surge of emotions taking over. So, you decided that maybe Doc was right. You needed to talk to someone. Someone to help you sort out your own feelings. You just hoped that you could feel normal again because, right now, you are not yourself.

–

Bucky stared at the space you had occupied a minute ago. He hadn’t seen you since you’d returned from the mission. You hadn’t been able to look at him in the small amount of time you were together during exfil. You’d both been put through quarantine and testing. He had no long lasting effects from the exposure but he knew you had to be bruised and sore from the experience. He felt immensely guilty about that but he could no more have stopped what was happening than you could. Sometimes he wondered if he could have even if it wasn’t for the pollen, it was the best thing he’d felt in seventy years. You were so soft, wet, and perfectly tight. 

Berating himself as he felt his body react to the memories, he reminded himself that you hate him. You had good reason to. He had been an absolute ass since you joined the team. Hethinks about his terrible behavior. He didn’t like new people to start with and then, out of seemingly nowhere, you were put with the team. It roused his suspicions and he viewed you as a potential threat. So, he had questioned your every motive, idea, and process. He wanted to hate you but the more he saw your work with the team and interactions outside of it, the more he found you intriguing. Rather than apologizing or correcting his behavior, he had doubled down. He couldn’t explain it but some small, stupid part of him had hoped that this incident would create an opening for him to reconcile with you but now you couldn't even look at him.

Who could blame you after the way he had treated you? Both before and during. He had been lost in the feeling and had stopped fighting the effects of the pollen the first moment he entered you. Hell, he hadn’t really fought it from the beginning. He had burst into that bathroom as if he had every right to enter it. You had to hate him even more now with what he’d done. He felt the need to talk to you, to apologize, to ask you to forgive him. He hadn’t told a soul what happened and had been deliberately vague in his mission report. He hadn’t wanted to make it any worse for you. 

Retreating to his room, Bucky paces trying to figure out his next move. Should he approach you or wait for you to come to him? He shakes his head. You wouldn’t approach him. Not the way you, no doubt, feel about him. You probably never wanted to see him again. What did you think? Did you hate him even more? Most likely. Did you think he had done this on purpose? That he had taken advantage of you? The drug had taken both of your ability to really consent. Did you feel… What are you feeling? He couldn’t stand the thought that you hated him even more or that you thought he hurt you purposely. 

He grabbed the doorknob, determined to speak with you but his hand slipped from it before he could turn the knob. You needed more time. He shouldn’t push you. He’d wait until you were at least healed. That was a better idea, he decided. It wasn’t that he was chickening out, he was just waiting until the wounds weren’t so fresh. That was the best thing to do, wasn’t it?

–

You nervously bounce your legs as you wait for the office door of Dr. Victoria Montesi to open. Dr. Miles had gotten you an appointment within thirty minutes of messaging her that morning. You wonder if she already had Dr. Montesi on standby. It wouldn’t be surprising with how well Doc seemed to know and anticipate your needs medically. 

When the door opens, you turn to look at the woman smiling softly at you. She was lovely with dark hair and eyes, and she radiated a calm demeanor that immediately put you at ease. 

“Hi. I’m Vicki Montesi,” she introduced herself.

Giving a polite smile, you give your name but don’t extend your hand. Touch was too intimate a thing to do currently and Dr. Montesi seemed to instinctively understand your body language. You felt so weak and hated it. You had been through major disasters, espionage, a host of events that would fell another person. Why was this the one thing that affected you so deeply? 

Dr. Montesi motioned for you to follow her and closed the door behind you softly, “Sit wherever you like. Do you mind if I take some notes?” 

“Uh, no, that's fine,” you shrug.

She grabbed a pad of paper off her desk and took a seat across from where you had settled on the couch. You fidgeted with your hands, glancing up occasionally. You knew she was waiting for you to start but two could play at-

“What brings you in today?” She interrupts your train of thought. 

“I, um,” you stuttered, thrown that she hadn’t followed the pattern you expected. “What did Dr. Miles tell you?”

“That you needed someone to talk to.”

“Oh…” you trail off suspiciously. 

“Your privacy is tantamount to both of us as your doctors,” Dr. Montesi says gently. 

“Right. So, I, um, we, I,” you stop yourself. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you begin again, “I was on a mission with a teammate. We were exposed to a powder that… forced the need for, for. Fuck! It made us burn up with fever and feel intense pain unless we were actively having sex. It felt like we were dying if we weren’t fucking. And of all the people in the fucking world it had to be with Bucky fucking Barnes. I can’t stand him and knowing that we- goddammit.” The words had become rushed and your frustration grew as you tried to explain. 

“So, you were put into a situation you had no control over, and your only relief was provided by someone you don’t like? Am I understanding you correctly?”

“Yes and hate. I hate him. He’s such a jerk, He’s probably told everyone who would listen.”

“Why do you think that?” Dr. Montesy probes. 

“Because he always undermines everything I say, anything I bring to the table. What better way to knock me down a few pegs than to tell everyone that he got me in bed?” You explain. 

“Have you spoken with him since it happened?”

“No, I haven’t really spoken to anyone since, ya know.” You look down at your hands. 

“And you feel that Bucky has after what happened?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” You scoff.

“Do you think the situation was different for him?”

“Yes! No, I… I don’t know,” you look away for a minute gauging what he could possibly be feeling. In your mind you think through your prejudices towards him, realizing many were sexist assumptions of what men are supposed to feel and others never took his past into consideration. Most of your thoughts had centered only around the hatred you felt for him and his constant attitude towards you but underneath all of that was a real person who was probably struggling with aspects of this as well. You admit in a near whisper, “Probably not.”

“It’s good that you’re able to look outside yourself. Can you tell me how you feel about the situation aside from him?”

You nod, taking a moment to assess that yourself, “It sucks to not have control over a situation to not have any good choices. I didn’t want it to happen but it’s part of the job. Sometimes you end up in these situations where no matter what you do, you’re going to come out on the other end with regrets. This one was just much more intimate than most. I want to blame someone and I keep blaming myself. That I couldn’t control myself, that I led both of us straight into that trap, that I used him and allowed him to use me. I just feel ashamed.”

“That’s common in situations like this but you did the one thing you were supposed to do. You survived.”

–

You saw Dr. Montesi again a couple of days later. She was helping you process and you appreciated it. She had a way of pulling things out of you that surprised you. Like when you continually called him Barnes rather than his first name and anytime she said his first name, you corrected her immediately. 

“There’s something more here. What is it about his name that bothers you?” She asks. 

“He… made me say it during,” you shrug, looking away. 

“Why does that bother you?”

“I never call him by his first name. It's always Barnes or asshat. Never Bucky.”

“And he made you call him Bucky?”

“Yes. He wouldn’t, you know, um… let me-”

“Orgasm?”

“Yeah, until I did. It felt… awkward,” you finish softly. 

“Just awkward?” She pushes. 

“Infuriating. Like a violation, another way control was taken from me. I mean, why? Why would he do that? What possessed him?”

“Well, the pollen for one thing, but have you considered that might have been the way he found some control in the situation?”

“So, you’re saying I shouldn’t take it personally? It wasn’t about bringing me to heel but about him finding a modicum of control? But should that negate how I feel?” You ask, confused.

“Not at all. Your feelings are valid but what I want you to understand is there is a why for him that may have had nothing to do with you. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Why have you never called him by his first name?”

“Because I hate him,” you shrug. 

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“It’s like I told you before, he treats me like a subordinate. Like I didn’t earn my place and I don’t have anything to offer.”

“Even after you’ve worked together for the last several months?”

“It lessened after a while I guess but he still acts like an ass all the time.”

“How have you handled that?”

“I tried to be friendly, to prove myself, and then I gave up. Why waste the energy?”

“Is it a waste? There’s no hope?” Dr. Montesi tilts her head. 

“I mean, I don’t… I don’t know. I just… I don’t know,” your voice trails off as you think back over all your interactions with Bucky. What if you had missed an opening? Was there some point when he tried to let you in but you had closed yourself off and delivered only sass and smartass remarks? But was that your fault? Was it all up to you?

“It’s okay to not have an answer but it is something you might think about until we see each other again.”

–

You saw her again early the next week. Each time it helps you see more clearly and feel more like yourself. Her guidance through your feelings and assumptions both good or bad, right or wrong without judgment or censure allowed you to explore more than just the situation with Barnes. It was the question she had posed about his motives that had stuck with you. 

“I think I'm ready to talk to,” you pause as your stubborn nature still fights against you calling him Bucky, but Barnes seemed even less apt now. You finally settled on just using the noncommittal, “him.”

“Oh?” Dr. Montesi waits for you to elaborate.

“I feel like I need to know his motives and feelings,” the last word was hard to push past your lips. You hadn't considered his feelings ever really. At least, not since he had proven himself to be a royal jackass. There was still a part of you that loathed him but somehow concern for his reaction to all of this had wormed its way into your mind. 

“What do you think that will do for you?” She asks, tilting her head.

“I don't know. I read his mission report on what happened. He was even more vague than I was on the details. Whether he was protecting himself or me, I wasn't sure but,” you take a deep breath before admitting the next part, “then I went through the other reports for missions we had been on together. He's always succinct but never fails to highlight others' contributions to the outcome. Even mine. It was obvious reading them that at some point he had started to see me as an asset. So, I guess, I think it'll give me some closure. Either we can start building a more respectful comradery or that's never going to happen and it's time for me to think about moving on.”

“How would that make you feel?”

“Disappointed but I want to be part of a team that has mutual respect for each other. If he can never give me that respect, I don't want to work with him. I'm not asking to be friends, just teammates. Preferably ones who can hold a conversation without all the snark.” You paused for a moment as a feeling of pride suffused through you. You were stronger than you realized and you were ready to find happiness and fulfillment on your terms. You smiled to yourself and then looked up to share it with Dr. Montesi. Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt you could see it in her eyes, too. 

When you left her office a little while later, you pulled out your phone and sent a short text. 

You: Hey. Can we talk?

It was only a few minutes later that your phone dings. 

Barnes: Yeah. On the phone or do you want to meet up? You: I’d prefer face to face. Barnes: Where? I can come to you.  You: I’m on my way back there. I’ll come to you. Barnes: Okay.

You let out a little laugh. That was probably the most civilized conversation the two of you had ever had. You started feeling the nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation but you needed it to happen. It was time to face this head on. As you make your way, you practice breathing techniques and make mental notes of what you wanted to say and ask. You even jotted a few down to help you remember when you know you're going into an emotional situation. 

There is still the confusion in your own head of what to call him. Such a simple thing but rife with emotion for you. Barnes was what you called him because you hated him and now you weren’t sure you did. James is his first name but no one calls him that. Bucky felt too friendly and intimate especially when it triggers reminders of that night every time you even think about it. Sergeant was too formal and felt harsh and rigid. Asshat was fitting when he was being one but you could hardly call him that all the time. You think back to what he calls you but, in just the way you have, he calls you by your last name mostly. You don’t ever recall hearing him say your first name. Occasionally, your designation and more than a few times he’s referred to you as “pita.” His way of calling you “pain in the ass.” You let out a scoffing laugh when you think of that and then shake the conundrum away. Maybe after this talk, you’d figure out what to call him or you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore if you decided to move on. 

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[rinignis]

saw a tiktok comparing Catelyn Stark to Alicent Hightower (ss dow below) and since this is such a brain dead take I felt the need to write this out.

First of all, calling Peytr Catelyns lover is so fucking disgusting. Catelyn has never EVER looked at petyr with anything other than brotherly affection. They played "kissing games" as children but Cat was quick to end them whereas Lysa kept playing them with him. In fact, when he tried to kiss her again after she was betrothed to Brandon Stark she pushed him away laughing...LAUGHING GUYS. When brandon died, petyr sent her a letter and burnt the fuck out of it and went on to marry ned stark and eventually fall in love with him. do not ever call catelyn and peytr lovers smh.

Second of all, Catelyn was not particularly angry at ned for having an affair and producing a bastard, she was angry that she brought jon into her new home to raise as she saw that as a threat to her children and grandchildrens inheritance. Catelyn had an actual valid reason to fear her husbands supposed bastard. Catelyn lived in the aftermath of the blackfyre rebellions and her society could still feel the after affects of bastard siblings rising up to take claim to their trueborn siblings inheritances. Alicent however???? she just straight up hated bastards and hated Rhaenyra. It wouldnt have mattered is Rhaenyras kids were bastards as their claim comes through her. Alicent had no valid reason to hate Rhaenyras children as Rhaenyra was heir to the throne, Alicents children had no claim in the eyes of the Iron Throne because Viserys had chosen his heir.

Also, dont compare Catelyns mothering to Alicent. In peace times, Alicent set her 13 year old daughter with her creepy rapist son because she so badly wanted to overthrow Rhaenyra. She may have loved her children in her own way, but alicent most definitely saw her children as a way to gain more power. Catelyn, on the other hand, was a loving mother who did all she could to protect her children. Catelyn was constantly looking for ways to save her daughters. She fought off an assassian that was after bran. She does all she can to support and aid robb as a king going through a war. Hell man, her very last act (before getting resurrected) is to try to barter for robbs' life, and death doesn't even stop this woman. She puppets her fucking corpse around to get vengance for her children, one of these women was a better mother and let me tell you it was not alicent fucking hightower.

I've linked the og tiktok so you can have even more context but this shit pissed me off badddd.

[liam-summers]

Having just finished my AtS season 3 rewatch, and being 3 episodes into season 4, I have to say that one thing that has become clear to me is that the way the show dealt with Buffy's death at the beginning of season 3 is actually pretty satisfactory.

Historically, my opinion on that has been somewhere between finding what we got satisfying enough, and thinking that they could've done more. But tbh, the way the show deals with other losses in comparison to the loss of Buffy is kind of wild. Angel loses Buffy and is so devastated that he goes away to a remote monastery in Tibet for 3 months, comes back and feels guilty over feeling okay about the fact that he didn't also die when Buffy died (which is an extreme that is not healthy and is contrasted with James, the villain of the episode, who literally kills himself because his lover died). Sure, we don't see a lot of his grieving process on screen, but the show does treat the loss with a lot of weight off screen with how much time he spends away and Angel's feelings of survivor's guilt in the first episode.

But then on the other hand, when Connor is taken, Angel is in denial and angry for one episode, catatonic for one episode, and then he's back to normal, making jokes and working on cases again. And I could be more accepting of this and view it as Angel practicing healthy coping mechanisms, if the show hadn’t gone out of its way to tell us that it was only DAYS from when Baby Connor was taken, to when Teenage Connor came back. Like, the show doesn't actually allow Angel any reasonable amount of time to mourn the loss of the son he never thought he would have.

Then in season 4 when Cordelia is in the higher plane, and Angel is looking for her, all it takes is one episode of him looking, finding her, and fully accepting that she's gone and won't be coming back. Again, we're meant to view this as a huge loss for him, and yet the show dedicates nearly zero time to showing him actually mourning losing her. (I realize that she was meant to come back at the end of the next episode but the seriousness with which they treat her disappearance and Angel's desperation to find her, you would think he would be more devastated that she won't be coming back). That's not even mentioning how the show deals (or doesn't deal) with her death in season 5.

Even when Darla died giving birth to Connor, we see absolutely no mourning on Angel's end, which is despicable.

The only death that gets remotely any mourning screen time is Doyle, and even that is rushed.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that AtS notoriously does not deal with the aftermath of loss in any real way, especially when it comes to Angel the character. So, what we got for Buffy's death ends up being, in my opinion, pretty satisfactory, because it's treated with a level of care that isn't extended to other losses in the show, and I appreciate that.

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her. pt 4

Chapter three ( see masterlist for previous chapters)

Summary: After Joel's death Ellie tries to deal with grief, anger and revenge. Reader learns that the perpetrator of Joels death is in fact her past lover Abby Anderson and reader starts a plan to find Abby before Ellie. Betrayal is indefinite but who will reader choose? Her best friend or her ex-lover?

Warnings: loss, aftermath of major character loss, angry Ellie, violence mentioned, sexual references.

When Ellie cried, not able to leave her bed plagued by dreams, re-living the site of Joel’s bloody death, you stayed by her side.

It got to the point where you never left her cabin. You'd resorted to sleeping on her floor, just so she wasn't alone. The last thing she wanted was to be alone. Sometimes she was angry, she would scream and shout and want to fight, but you knew she was just hurting. Other times she would cry and at certain points, what you considered the worst points she wouldn't talk or move at all. She would just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

During one of these episodes you were sitting on her bed, rubbing her shoulders and stroking her hair. She firmly pushed your hands away and sat up.

“Ellie?”

“I want to kill her.”

“Ellie, I understand but-”

“No! No, you don't, you don't know what it was like to see him like that! I cant get it out of my head, everyday all I can think of is how I wont be able to sleep, to eat, to fucking live If  I know shes out there, getting away with it.”

“Ellie,”

“Listen, if you dont support me then leave. I'll be gone tomorrow and I'll find her”

You paused.

“Ellie, I’ll always support you”

She looked into your eyes, searching to see if your words were true. 

She relaxed.

“Okay, tomorrow we are leaving. I’ll take care of getting supplies before you wake up, I won't be able to sleep anyway”

“Ellie”

You took her hands, she gave in to your touch in an instant, she reveled in it. She adored every part of you she could get, even though you hid a lot of you, she would gladly enjoy every moment she was given. 

“I just…If this will make you okay again, I'll help you. I just don't think-.”

“If you're going to tell me some bullshit about how killing her won't bring Joel back don't bother, because I know. It's not like that I just want to hurt her how she hurt me”

You sighed, still grasping Ellie’s hands.

“Okay. I'm with you”

“You’ll come with me?”

“I'd follow you anywhere.” 

Ellie nodded, “Okay, sleep, we have a long way ahead of us.”

“Do you have a lead?”

“I think so, Tommy was telling me about the WLF? Washington liberation front? They Are located in Seattle-”

Your blood ran cold, Washington, Seattle, Abby.

“Seattle.”

“That's where they're located. I'm going to find that bitch and kill everything she has. I’ll save her for last and make her suffer”

“Her?”

“Yea, it was a women, tall, blond, built like an ox” 

Oh shit

Oh fuck!

Fucking christ Abby why did you kill Joel! There has to have been a reason. With her there was always a reason no matter how little it was, there was always a reason.

But it was Joel, Joel who saved you from being killed, Joel who always did his best to help Ellie even when she didnt want him too, Joel whose past haunted him in his sleep, Joel whom you smiled at passing every morning. Joel who was such a big part of Ellie’s world.

“Are you sure it was her?”

“I watched her bring a golf club to his head, I watched her tear him apart” The expression on Ellie’s face was once filled with terror, but now it only portrayed true rage.

Your hands trembled a little bit but Ellie didn't notice, she was too caught up in her revenge plan to seem to realize your panic. And for that, you were grateful.

What would she think of you now? Knowing that you loved the perpetrator of Joel’s painful demise. What would she do if she saw that locket inside, how happy you looked hoisted on Abby’s  shoulders? How would she react if you told her the person you missed the most was the same individual that had ruthlessly murdered Joel?

“Ellie, let's just try and sleep right now. We don't know when it’ll happen again”

“I’ll try”

That night, the two of you had fallen into a restless slumber. Dreams haunted Ellie, but with you, only memories came and filled your senses with the scent of pine. 

The WLF base was cold in the winter, but you didn't mind. Half the time you were wrapped up in your girlfriend's arms and when she was out training or patrolling or doing whatever it was when she disappeared you were out training yourself.

The endless workouts kept you strong, calm, collected, and warm. It was a hobby you picked up from her, though you didn't train nearly as intensely as she did you were proud of your progress and so was she.

One day though she didn't return at her normal time, like she’d always promised. You wasted no time, grabbing your steel toe boots and shotgun, axe hanging from your bag on your side. You were determined to find her.

After all, she was all you had.

The sun went down and it got colder, but still you didn't care. Abby would never stay out this long without you. Something was off.

You kept your eyes peeling spotting a horde of infected, and your girlfriend fighting them off in the center

Breathing in, you aimed the shotgun, far enough that they wouldn't know where you came from.

The first bullet struck at the head of a runner that abby was cornered by

“Gotcha, you fucker”

Abby jumped a bit at noise, the bullet barely missed her head. She looked at the source and you waved and continued shooting from a distance, once the numbers had depleted you ran down to offer hand to hand help.

“Hey babe. Need some help?”

“Fuck. I had it handled” You plunged your axe into the skull of the infected. It made a revolting squelch you cringed a bit before moving on to another one.

“Sure looked like it”

“Oh shut up!” Abby smiled, still beating the absolute fuck out of another runner

It was kind of hot, her biceps pulsing, veins showing off, blood on her face, sweat dripping down her neck despite the cold weather.

God you have problems.

When it was all over, you had both fallen to the floor, it began to snow. You were panting and then stood up, holding your face up staring at the white sky with your tongue out.

“What the hell are you doing?” Abby questioned with a playful smirk

“Catching snowflakes!”

“That's disgusting, put your tongue away.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at Abby, a smile made its way onto your face.

“You wouldn't have said that…last night” You burst out into laughter at your own stupid joke. Abby groaned, putting her head in her hands, still a teasing smile grew on the corners of her lips.

“Can we stop with the ‘last night’ jokes?”

“ You started them?”

“Yea well i'm finishing”

“Oh yea, I bet you are” 

“Shut up… that sounds bad.”

“What's wrong with finishing?”

“Oh my god, y/n. Shut up”

“ Yes ma'am!”

You awoke in the middle of the night, surprisingly Ellie was fast asleep. You sat up in your sleeping bag, pulling your knees to your chest. Cradling yourself, rocking back and forth in an attempt to self soothe.

Ellie, your best friend was going to try to kill your girlfriend. Or rather, ex-girlfriend? You had never technically broken up, you just… got lost. Abby was somewhere, and you were determined to find her before Ellie did. You couldn't just let her die and if that made you a bad person you were okay with it. You were already a liar, a murderer, a thief, what's one more sin on your conscience?

You got up while Ellie was fast asleep. You tiptoed to the bathroom with your pack, taking off the clothes you'd borrowed from Ellie in your time there and replacing them with sturdy jorts, a belt, and a wife beater. Your belt almost resembled a tool belt, you could holster a pistol in it among other things. You’d wear steel toe boots with a pair of thin socks. You grasped at your locket.

You had to find her before Ellie did and return so she did not have a clue. You'd have to lie a lot but it wasn't the first time.

You snuck out, mindful of the creaky floorboards. Ellie was still knocked out.

Poor thing

You've never felt so conflicted before. What would you even do or say If Ellie found Abby? She wouldn't take the betrayal well; you could tell by the way she looked at you that she was attached. And in a way so were you. But Abby, at one point she was your entire world. You knew that indefinitely, you'd have to pick between the two and though Abby was once your greatest love, she killed someone Ellie adored. 

Fucking idiots.

You wandered out, in the midst of the night with a few hours of darkness left. You went back to where you'd found Ellie passed out on the floor. You felt like a shitty best friend, but you couldn't help it. It wasn't like you could let Abby die. She was strong though, very strong, she would put up a fight and that fact brought you peace. 

Eventually after some digging around in that house, you found it deserted but with things left behind. A bullet casing there, a few loose arrows but what really interested you, was a map. Abby was never really good at covering up her tracks, and she had left you a path right to her. The map was marked up with some sort of colored pencil. You held it carefully, pointing your flashlight at it.

Washington, WLF base and Patrol routes are all marked up…so is Jackson with the words “town?” written on it, you almost smiled, recognizing Abby’s handwriting like it was second nature 

You decided you'd bring the map back with you.

Doing one more look around you discovered photos, polaroids.

One of Abby and Owen, smiling.

Your expression dropped.

There's no way she's associating with him again. And if she was, it was definitely out of desperation. Whatever, you'd fix that.

[a-chuffed-floating-panda]

A love in the eye of the hurricane ch37 (unedited)

(Originally posted 24 January 2024. Sleep deprived period. Slightly better edited chapter)

The silence in her room was too quiet; her thoughts spun and whirled into an angry whirlpool. It’s been a long time since silence had this effect on her.

She stared at the letter in her hand.

What did she want? 

Sonam had three great loves in her life. The first was her friends, the second was Jigme, her childhood friend turned lover, and the third was Jampa. Was she even allowed to call her that anymore? Jungney. Her third love was Jungney.

It’s tempting not to open it due to how their relationship ended. A part of her understood why, but because she understood didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. And it hurt a lot. She lost one to death, and the other chose a title over her.

Her fingers drifted over the thin string that kept the letter closed.

…. Her knees hit the ground at the sight of him. Blood. So much blood. His body, the boulders- could he move at all? How was he still alive? His eyes lit up when he saw her and he smiled. How characteristic of him. Smiling in the face of death. “You’re okay!” She rushed towards him. “I was so worried.” A wet wheeze followed those words. She held him and the realisation slowly set in. Canyon. Boulders. Rockslide. Ambush. Aftermath. She’s not able to do anything. She’s not strong enough to push the large boulder covering his legs off. His injuries were extensive. She’s not a healer. Torma was- where was he? Sonam looked around frantically. The tip of his spear poked out between some rocks.

“There’s no one, Sonam.” He said. 

“No- no one else survived?” He shook his head slowly. Her stomach plummeted. It was difficult to breathe.

“I’m glad I can share my last moments with you.” There’s acceptance in his eyes. She can’t do more than hold him. “I regret nothing in my life. I’ve lived it to the best of my capabilities and have been happy all the way.” His breathing slowed. “I’m so grateful to have met you.” She nuzzled the side of his head. “I love you, I love you more than you know.” Nyingdu-la. She’d never uttered that word to him, but he was. He was her nyingdu-la. 

She should have said it sooner.  He laughed and leaned into her touch. “I love you too….”

… her ears were ringing. Wow. It’s been a while since something ever elicited such a reaction from her. Sonam chuckled to herself.

The letter. 

She toyed with it between her fingers. So tempting. A small part of her, the anger and resentment, something she managed to reduce the size of during the years, wanted to set it on fire.

… why the meadows? Sonam didn’t understand. It wasn’t their normal spot. She could appreciate the beauty of the Eastern temple’s forests on her way there though, a plus in her book. 

Major plus. The people inhabiting the temple weren’t as beautiful as the surrounding nature. It made dealing with the general narrow-mindedness worth it.

And she’s already there! How great! Sonam went up and hugged her. She kissed the side of her head while she was there. “Hey!” She greeted and… something’s off. Jampa gripped the back of her robes with an emotion she couldn’t quite define at the moment. She held her longer than usual, clinging. Did something happen? Sonam stayed where she was and didn’t move. She moved her hand up to the back of her neck and lightly scratched at the hairs there.

Jampa only held her tighter.

Now she’s really confused. She continued doing what she was doing, even as the feeling of dread climbed up her spine. 

“What’s wrong, Jampa?” And it was with reluctance that she pulled away. She gripped her forearms and looked at the ground; the line of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. 

“I, uh,” she looked up at her. And it’s the first time Sonam got a look at her since she visited last week. Her brows furrowed. So many emotions swirled around in her eyes. Pale. She looked sick. It looked like she was on the brink of a panic attack.

… Bad news?

“They have offered me a higher position at the temple.” Whew, great, she’s wrong. Good news. Great news! She’d worked so hard for this. She deserved this.

“That’s great news!” Jampa’s smile was pained. “It is…”

“Have you accepted it yet?”

“No,” she shook her head and her expression wavered.

Sonam tilted her head. “Why?” Whatever the reason was, it must be taxing on her. Jampa opened her mouth and closed it after a few seconds. “I’m- I’m not allowed to accept it because I’m with you.”

Her stomach plummeted. She was right, after all. Bad news.

“You’re ending it with me.” Jampa wouldn’t look at her and kept quiet. “Say it.” 

“I- I am ending this….”

…. Had she been younger and a lot angrier than she was now, she’d most likely set it on fire. She’s still angry, mind you. Very angry. It’s just not specifically directed at anyone. More at the world itself. It took her friends away; it took Jigme away and filled her blood with anger and vengeance.

The size was smaller. It wasn’t the first thing she felt when she meditated anymore. But if she reached out, it always answered her.

There’s a hand on her shoulder and she tensed. When had someone entered her room? She subtly turned her head to look at the hand; it was grayish and see through. Sonam recognised the hand, of course. She used to hold it many years ago. Jigme. “You should open it.” He said. It’s refreshing to hear his voice after so long. Soothing. It was comforting to know he was still there. “She hasn’t been dealing well over the years. It doesn't hurt to see what she wants.” She hasn’t been dealing well, huh? And he knew that?

“Have you been spying on us?” He laughed. It’s his embarrassed laugh. That ‘ah, damn it, you caught me’ laugh. It’s tempting to turn around to look at him, but whoever visited her always disappeared when she did. She grabbed a nearby metal fan and slid it open, angled it to where he should be standing and- he was there. Messy hair, goofy grin and all that. He waved. “Well, I can’t do much in this condition. And I wanted to be sure that whoever you ended up being with was a good person. Though, I didn’t expect a woman. I didn’t know you liked them.” He flushed and scratched at his neck. 

Sonam laughed. “I didn’t know either.” The attraction surprised her. The relationship surprised her. Caught her completely off guard. She’d never been with women before. It’s one of the few situations where she could admit to never expecting.

“Jungney is nice, pretty, too.” He nodded. “You have good taste.” Mikoto and her flowy black hair materialized beside him. She wore the same brown shoulder harness for her kodachi around her right shoulder. She puffed her cheek and folded her arms. “Seriously? I’m disappointed that you’re hesitating.” Jigme nudged her and shot her a look. Mikoto rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Sonam put the fan down. “I’ll open it.”

They’re still there when she glanced at the metal fan. Looking over her shoulder with wide curious eyes and whispering to themselves.

“I can’t believe this! They’re so narrow minded! I’d burn everything to the ground if someone tried that on me.”

“I think I’d rather guilt them instead.”

“Jigme! People like that need to get slapped in the face. Always be diplomatic until arson is available.”

It’s nostalgic, Sonam smiled.

Jamyang got caught in the crossfire. That’s her only conclusion. 

She tried her best to listen as Jaya talked on her right and Dolkar talked to her left. However, during the topic of spinning bison wool- of all things- someone grabbed her by the front of her waist and walked off with her.

What?

She felt her brows furrow as her feet involuntarily moved. Her brain blanked. She’s confused. Jamyang could see Jaya snickering at her and Dolkar waving while chuckling.

She recognised the strong incense smell. Someone else must be taking care of Jangbu at the moment. “Sonam?”

“Yes?”

“… What are you doing?” 

“Wait and see.” They turn a corner and another one, and then she’s pushed into a room.

Jamyang huffed and brushed her robes. Sonam closed the door and turned to her with a giddy smile. “What’s this I’m hearing about between you and Gawa?”

“Did Yara tell you?” They weren’t too suspicious. People knew they were close. They shared no kisses or anything romantic in public… yet. Jamyang wanted to be sure of what she’s doing first. At least a little. There’s always the possibility that she’d never figure this out completely.

“Maybe.” She sing songed. “I never needed to touch either of you to sense the change between the two of you. The feelings radiate, you know. Yara confirmed it when I asked.” Her cheeks warmed the more Sonam continued. “Few people are as chakra and chi sensitive as me, so they’ll likely think the two of you are pining hard for each other if you’re worried about others knowing.” 

“It’s not that.” Jamyang didn’t care if people knew, she really didn’t, but she didn’t want to look like a goof in front of people yet. “I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, relationships and that. I’ve never been in one before.” Well, there’s this thing between Sonam and her. Karmamudrā partner. Queer platonic partner. What was this called? Was partner even the right word to use? “I’ve never felt a need for it or anything else.” Her heart raced just thinking about it. Jamyang swatted at Sonam’s finger when it poked her cheek. 

“You have some experience with me, though,” she pointed out. “It’s not the same as a romantic one, but it’s a good baseline to follow.”

“I don’t get nervous around you, though. It’s difficult to be affectionate or do anything else when I’m panicking on the inside about how beautiful she is.”

Sonam laughed. “The baby’s first case of gay panic. Welcome to the club.” She patted her shoulder.

“What?” Sonam waved at her, still laughing. “You’ll learn what it means in time.” Jamyang’s back to being confused now. “I have been in some relationships. I can give you tips, if you want.”

There was no shame in asking for advice. Jamyang functioned better when she had something to go on. “Yes, please.”

Jamyang brought some of the… nicer robes she owned with her to the Eastern temple. It’s weird. She’d never dressed to impress someone before. She’d never wanted to either. The lighter robes or a simple dhonka and some loose robes always did the trick. There wasn’t a need to dress up for the festival and the thought that people would notice her different robes made her nervous. What if they asked? And if they did, how should she respond?

Jamyang usually read her way through the festival because dancing wasn’t really her thing; Yara promised when they were three that she’d dance enough for the both of them, so it wasn’t a problem. Sister Tsering taught her to play the bansuri flute well, so she was much more okay with providing music. Not all the time. Only occasionally. She’d started painting spots around the temple in recent years.

She wasn’t alone now, though. She had a date. An actual date. They had to do stuff now. Did they have to? Dates were a broad topic.

Uma groaned, taking her out of her thoughts, as she flew towards the stables. Jamyang grabbed her things and floated off, but she didn’t leave without a hug. A long hug. Uma’s second specialty. Her loving licks held the first place.

Uma enjoyed getting hugs too, win-win.

“Jamyang?” She yelped at the hand that touched her shoulder. “Yes?” She coughed and turned to see Sister Tsering. “I mean- yeah?” Sister Tsering eyed her for a long five seconds. “Are you okay? You’re… jittery.” Out of character, she knew that. Jamyang didn’t do jittery. She did calm.

“Fine! I’m just fine.” There’s that look again. Sister Tsering shifted on her feet and looked at her. “Are you sure?”

“Totally.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Need help with getting your things to your room?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Sister Tsering gave her one last look before walking off.

Yara’s laughing somewhere. Call it sister instinct. She just knew it.

Making her way to her room in the western wing of the temple, she put her things down by the bed and laid down. Her nerves buzzed beneath her skin. This was new. They buzzed to the point where doing anything seemed impossible. She laid there and stared at the ceiling. She must’ve zoned out for hours because someone knocked on her door when the sun was setting. Jamyang sat up to greet them and-

“Uh…” Say something. You look like a complete fool.

Jamyang blinked.

Her eyes went from Gawa’s head, down to her feet and up again.

She stared for a few more seconds. Her brain wouldn’t formulate any words and what already was there died before it left her mouth.

Then there’s the spiritual energy of the temple buzzing beneath her skin, never leaving her alone. It’s a lot louder now.

She’s really not sure where Yara was at the moment, but she heard her giggling. 

“You… you look great.” Relief washed over Gawa’s face and she walked in and sat down beside her. “I wasn’t sure how to dress.” It was a similar pair to the robes she wore when she first met her. Light brown this time, though. Non-combat robes. A pair of loose pants and a shirt that was kept closed by a pair of strings tied to the right side of her waist and light brown linen shoes. Simple, yet effective. “This is my first time here and I’ve heard how strict they can be.”

“There’s rarely a dress code for festivals, although some still dress up for the occasion.” 

The robes might still be unpacked, but Jamyang was one of them now. 

She hugged her and pressed her nose against her collarbone. “I don’t really want to go outside right now. The sights are better during midday, anyway.” They were. “I can show you around inside the temple.” There were a lot of artistic subjects to paint and Jamyang painted regularly whenever she visited.… A pre date? Was that a thing?

Choekyi was probably showing Aden around at the moment. A blushing Choekyi confessed to her one night that what they had was slow, so they could get used to it. They were a ‘something,’ according to her words.

“Sounds fun-,”

“Did you bring a sketchbook?”

Gawa paused. “… Yes? I brought my wood carving kit as well. I always bring them. It’s my art emergency kit.”… Okay, that’s smart. How come she never thought of that? Jamyang left sketchbooks everywhere, so that there was always one nearby. 

“Bring it. I always end up with something new when I move around the temple.”

“…. And that’s the statue of Anjali, the Mother superior during the era of Avatar Xiu.” The Earth Kingdom wasn’t called the Earth Kingdom then. It was called the sixteen kingdoms, and other nations referred to the inhabitants as people of Earth.

“What’s the difference between a Mother superior and High nun? I remember you mentioned the title.” Ah, yes. High nun Avidya.

“There’s not much of a difference. It’s the Western equivalent of the title. The Western temple is the largest and only temple that has more than one abbess. They help take care of the temple and greet visitors.”

“Huh, interesting.” Gawa turned to her. “Who’s the current High nun?”

“Sister Tsering.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” That’s right. Jamyang had someone as great as her as a teacher. “She insists that she and Sister Gyalwo share the title, but it’s really her that holds the title.”

“How come I didn’t know?”

“The title isn’t as… widely known as the Mother superior title. They don’t shout it from the temple grounds either. It’s just a title.” Jamyang didn’t truly know until she was eleven, although she had her suspicions.

Gawa looked back at the statue. “She’s rather majestic looking, don’t you think?”

“Oh, for sure. I have a few paintings of her.” She answered. “She’s remembered for her youthful appearance and how she guided the temple in Avatar Xiu’s era. They were friends too. He often sought her out for advice.”

Gawa pulled her sketchbook out and started sketching. Jamyang pulled out hers after a few seconds of admiring her side profile.

One more painting wouldn’t hurt.

“Woah! Cool tattoos!” A nun their age said as she walked by them carrying new prayer flags. The group with her nodded and murmured in agreement.

“Thanks.” Gawa grasped at her right shoulder, squeezed two times before letting go.

When the group walked away, Jamyang turned to her and asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,”

“Are you sure?” She looked uneasy.

“Yeah, I didn’t prepare myself to be complimented so much.”

“It’s just compliments.”

“I know, but it’s different when you get them from someone who doesn’t like you or is neutral towards you.”

“Still-,”

“I know.”

Sonam paused before entering the same meadow from years ago. Ja- Jungney was already there, pacing back and forth. 

“I didn’t lie when I said she hasn’t been doing well.” There’s a weak push at her back. “Come on! Go.” Another weak push. “I’m sort of physical here and I will take advantage of it. Go! I will not be watching two more people pine over each other.” Sonam smiled and rolled her eyes, giving into his demands.

“Hey,” Jungney whipped around. “Wh- oh, you came.” She approached her. “You came.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought you stood me up.” Even if she replied to the letter assuring her she’d come, Sonam sought her out at the last possibility. Murder was past her unless the situation demanded it, but she wasn’t beneath some pettiness and malicious compliance. Jungney said in her letter that she’d wait from early afternoon until dusk, and it was almost dusk. Sonam guessed it would be complete dusk in an hour or so. 

“Had I been younger and angrier than I probably would have.” Jungney reached out, but stopped herself midway.

Sonam grabbed her wrist. She wouldn’t hold her hand just yet.

“What do you want, Ja-Jungney?”

“You can still call me Jampa. I’m okay with that.”

“Then you can call me Maya.” First name, for a first name. It was only fair. “What do you want?” The same actions that occurred years ago were happening again. The line of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She felt the muscles move underneath her skin as her fist tightened. The same sick-ish pale. There wasn’t conflict in her eyes now, only regret. They were red. As if she’d been crying.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” Sonam hadn’t gotten a proper look into her eyes in years. They were just like she remembered them; Soft gray eyes appeared occasionally whenever she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Notes:

BØ!🤪 I fell down the assassins's creed syndicate and odyssey hole, and have been playing that more than writing this. Balancing works is hard, the Sister Tsering centric story was more appealing to me for some reason this week. I've played syndicate the whole of last week until Saturday and then started on odyssey where I'm now on lv 16. I struggle to pause gaming when I'm not on an even level. I don't have ocd, but there are times I wonder. They're like, quirks, I guess? I don't know if it's the right word. I've also made myself cry more instead of actually writing when it comes to Sonam and Jungney. So.... I still don't know the proper term for Jamyang's sexuality or if I should even try and find it out. She just sort of exists and floats in the universe, content with her life. But if someone wants to float around with her and she likes them a lot, she won't say no to them. She'd also ask them to float around with her, if the possibility presented itself. Gawa is wearing a pair of long sleeved Tai chi robes. There isn't an actual name for them, I tried looking for it. It was common clothes of the era. I read they're often referred to as tai chi gi. There're two different Sonam's here, one is an elder and the other is twenty three. Words: Karmamudrā: sexual yoga nyingdu-la: 'The most honourable poison of my heart'/ sweetheart

[elvesofnoldor]

kinda weird how hell-bent i am at making my canon warden a mage when mage origin in da:o is probably the weakest origin out of, what, all 6 of the origin stories for the warden? it’s so flavourless, there is very little that makes the mage character super emotionally engaging, and the mage warden is the most blank slated out of all the possible warden. Plus, since the very first game in the series most of the mage origin story is just the protagonist asking lore-related questions that they should already know the answers to. but idk it’s just so much more fun making a mage/magic based builds, i do not have time to read and digest shits like “cry of valour: cooldown decreases by 75% when you are staggered and your health regenerate 0.5 second faster on each critical hit (stacking)”, cause bro that’s the kind of shit i have to read when i choose which abilities to unlock for a warrior or rogue and that’s just too many numbers and math and not enough texts about setting people on fire. 

that being said, i have been feeling pretty lukewarm for my male!surana for a very long time. i didnt like my female!surana at all, and my m!surana is basically a projection of my desire to romance morrigan and have kieran with morrigan and also a projection of maglor (the one in my head aka a vast expansion on what tolkien has written on paper, which is pityingly little). Also, considering that my canon lavellan is already an elf dude and a mage, do i need another elf mage??? i think i met the quota for elf mages. listen, i made my surana a detailed backstory that has nothing to do with maglor in any capacity (and the flexibility of mage origin to adapt to any sort of backstory you might want for your mage warden is one of its few saving graces), but appearance and personality wise he’s just...he’s just so maglor (the one in my head). Also, i could just spent more time fleshing out maglor (in the fanfics i still haven’t written--partially because the chapter outlines kept changing) if this dragon age elf player character is just maglor 2.0. personally, i pick established canon characters over my ocs and anybody else’s ocs any day. plus, i want my original characters to be actually, you know, original. 

i’m seriously considering having a female mahariel as my canon warden right now. in my opinion city elf origin is THE best warden origin, hands down, but merrill’s presence as a npc and the explicit connection and introduction to the eluvian (which is important across all three games) in dalish elf origin makes me prefer the dalish origin more from time to time. i always want leliana to be my canon dao romance and i think just yesterday i had the idea for the right gal to romance her. someone who’s original enough and someone who’s satisfactory enough of a character that can make that wish come true. i can’t even play da:o right now but i already looked at rogue builds for da:o lol (the best build is dual wield assassin, coincidentally my favourite rogue build in dai). my “canon” da2 and dai protags are both mages, it’s time for a change. 

[just-jordie-things]

A Lover And A Fighter - Richie Tozier

word count: 3122 warnings: swearing, sight sexual harassment summary: Richie promised (y/n) that he wouldn’t get into fights anymore, but sometimes he just can’t help himself.  Especially when it comes to protecting her.

___

It was an understatement to say that Richie was protective of you.  The boy was downright insane about it.  Everyone in Derry knew not to fuck with (y/n), not unless they wanted Richie Tozier tracking them down and beating them half to death.

You’d given him a talk numerous times.  But not once did they work, it always went in one ear and out the other..

He’d beaten up three ex boyfriends, a couple guys that looked at you the wrong way, and Greta Keene.  He was proud of that amount.

But he’d promised that he would try his best not to act out on your behalf anymore.  And you made him pinky promise.  That’s a big deal.  And he didn’t want to break your trust or your promise.

However… once he walked past Henry Bowers and his dumbass friends, and heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t stop himself from getting involved.

“What was that?” He spoke before he could think things through.

The boys turned to him, each bearing a scowl that wasn’t out of character.

“I said, (y/n’s) not fucking worth it,” Henry practically growled out.  “Now why don’t you fuck off, Tozier?”

“Your damn fucking right it’s not worth it,” Richie spat back, turning away, doing the right thing.  “I’d break your goddamn nose” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s not worth it to try and get in her pants,” Henry called out before Richie could walk far enough away.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Cause she’s such a slut anyways, it’s not a real victory to fuck-”

Richie had never whipped around so fast.  And with the punch he delivered went all common sense, and all the promises and reassurances he’d given you to prove he was going to ‘mature’ as you’d begged him to do. ___

“Hey, Richie,” You held your phone between your ear and shoulder as you painted your toes.  “This is like, my fifth message… so… call me back, I guess.  Okay, bye”

You sighed as you set the phone back on it’s holster.  Richie wasn’t the type of guy to stand you up, especially on taco tuesday.  And even if something came up, he always always, called.  But now he couldn’t even bother to return one of your calls, leaving you to assume that he was upset with you for some reason, and therefore ignoring you.

You weren’t sure what you did, and at this point, you also weren’t sure that he was going to tell you either.

When Richie didn’t want to talk to someone, he was the damn best at avoiding them.

But he’d never given you the cold shoulder.  And there was a time that you’d thought he never would.  Richie was your best friend, you trusted and confided in him more than anyone else, even the other Losers.  And in the last seven years of being his best friend, he’d never treated you this way.  In fact, he always treated you amazingly, like a princess, it was very surprising actually, the way he cared about you.

It was that care that always led him to picking fights where he shouldn’t be, though.  It started with your ex boyfriend.  He broke up with you once a ‘better, prettier’ girl showed interest (his words), and the next thing you knew, Richie was throwing him against the lockers.

When your next boyfriend straight up cheated on you, Richie took care of him too.

He broke the third one’s nose.

And then there was the Greta Keene incident… Beverly may have let it slip that Greta had been writing nasty rumors about you in the girls bathrooms.  And Richie declared that he didn’t have a problem beating up a girl if it was justified (and if that girl had man arms).  That was when you drew the line, and made Richie swear to try and control his anger.  And he pinkie promised to work on it, and that he wouldn’t get into any more fights over you.

You weren’t sure why he got so enraged over these things.  It was just drama, and you found it pointless that he tried to bring you justice, since he was so reckless about it.

It was getting late, and you knew that Richie wasn’t going to return your calls.  So you finished painting your toenails blue, and decided to spend the night in your room, reading, alone.

Even though you should have been eating a bunch of tacos and gossiping with Richie.

Just as you got situated in bed, and had turned off the overhead light in exchange for the soft glow of your lamp on the bedside table, there was a knock on the window.

When you glanced over, you could tell it was Richie by his silhouette, and you frowned slightly.

Nonetheless, you got up and unlocked the window, before sliding it open.

“Where the hell have you been?” You asked.

He could tell that you couldn’t see his face very well.

“Busy, you gonna let me in?” He grinned.

“Richie, it’s-” You glanced over your shoulder to the alarm clock on your table, before glaring back at him.  “-midnight.  Are you kidding me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What? (y/n/n), no-”

“Then how come you were dodging all my calls? And you’re seven hours late?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest..

Richie crawled in through the window, even though you hadn’t invited him in yet.  But he figured it was only a matter of time before you cave anyways.

Your distressed face disappeared as you caught sight of him now that he was in the light.  His left eye was bruising, and so was his right cheekbone.  Along with a split lip and a bloody nose, it was clear what had happened.

“Oh, Richie…” You mumbled, hand reaching up to cover your mouth as your eyes widened at the sight of him.  “Tell me you didn’t-”

“Look it’s not what you think-” Richie tried to protest.

“Don’t give me that shit”

He knew he fucked up, because you weren’t yelling.  Your voice was soft, and low.  You were heartbroken.

He stared down at the ground, too anxious to look at you anymore.  Not when you looked so disappointed in him.  

“You promised- you-you pinky promised me-”

“I know-! I know and I’m sorry, really, I’m really fucking sorry” He told you, desperately hoping that you’d forgive him.

You shook your head at him, and gestured for him to sit before you left the room.  Richie was the most frustratingly complicated person that you knew, and it drove you insane.  Why he couldn’t just walk away and not beat the shit out of people… you weren’t sure.  But it really hurt you that he didn’t even seem to try, and he broke his promise.

Richie was sitting on the side of your bed when you came back into the room.  He chuckled as he eyed the first aid kit in your hands, the same one that you’ve used the last four or five times you dealt with the aftermath of his episodes of rages.

“You don’t have t-”

“Yes I do” You cut him off and unpacked what you’d need.

You were upset, you were fuming, actually.  It angered you that Richie broke his promise, not even a month after making it.  That promise was important to you, because he was important to you.  And now here he was, waiting to be fixed up by you once again after he so stupidly, so recklessly got himself beaten to a pulp.

But no matter how angry you were, you remained silent.  Dabbing at the excess blood under his nose, which at least wasn’t bleeding anymore.  And when you were finished with his cheek, you moved on to rubbing cream over the bruise on his cheek.  Richie’s eyes fell shut as he sighed in relief at the feeling of the cool lotion, and your gentle fingers.

He knew your silence wasn’t a good thing.  In fact, it was the worst thing.  It meant he messed up beyond redemption.  And he’d never fucked up that bad before.  Sure, he’d pissed you off and frustrated you on the daily, but that was just the hallmark of his friendship, and it was never anything serious.  Just when he dragged you out in the middle of the night for slushies, or got you in trouble in class because he was running his mouth.  He’d never made you this genuinely upset before.

“(y/n)-”

“Save it” You muttered before he could even start with the apologies.

That was another hallmark of his friendship.  You knew what came next.  The apologies, the excuses, the begging for your forgiveness, followed by a playful ‘you know you love me, you need me’ and puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t refuse.  Except tonight, you might just be able to.

He took you by surprise when he didn’t protest, and snapped his mouth shut.  Your eyes met his for a moment, before you started applying a smaller amount of lotion on the bruise surrounding his eye.  It was going to look a lot worse in the morning, but this would help with the pain now.

You hated that your heart ached for him right now.  You hated that you wanted to cry and hold him and make him feel better.  Because you were so fucking mad-

“I don’t understand,” The words suddenly spilled out of your mouth, as if your mind just couldn’t take them swimming around in your head anymore.  “I just- I- I don’t fucking get it”

He nodded, ducking his head down, only for you to lift it back up by his chin and continue with the lotion.

“I care about you, dumbass, and all I asked, which I thought was simple, all I asked was for you to stop with the fighting-”

“I know” He mumbled back.

You stared at him skeptically, wondering if he really did know, or if he’d show up again in a few weeks with the same battered face and guilty look in his eyes.  Richie didn’t look back at you.  He couldn’t.

“Who?” You asked, trying to soften your voice so he wouldn’t whither away from you like he was doing right now.

“You’re not gonna like it” Richie answered, fingers pinching at your bedsheets in an attempt to distract himself.  From the pain that burned across his whole face, or from the intensity in your eyes, he wasn’t sure, but he needed the distraction.

He hadn’t had a smoke in months, but it sounded pretty damn good right now.

“Well, newsflash, I don’t like any of this,” You told him.  “But I think I deserve to at least know what happened”

Of course you do, Richie hung his head in his hands.  You deserve so, so much better.

You watched as he rubbed his palms over his eyes, and it took everything in your power not to take his hands and hold them in yours, to tell him it was okay and you forgave him.

“Bowers”

He muttered the single word without even looking at you.  But he didn’t have to look at you to know exactly what you looked like in that moment.  You probably had a dropped jaw and furrowed brows.  Disappointment, disgust, anger, all displayed in one heartbreaking look.

“Richie…” You murmured without meaning to.  “Why? Why would you-”

“I had to, okay?” He shot up suddenly.  “I know that you hate it, and as soon as I swung I- I knew I fucked up, but I had to”

You wanted to argue it, argue that there’s always another option, that he can always walk away.  But you bit your tongue.  Something about the way he spoke told you that there was more to this than his stupidity.

“I’m sorry, (y/n/n), I am.  But I… I don’t regret it”

Your heart sunk all the way down to your stomach.  Richie had such a toll on your emotions and he didn’t even know it.

“Tell me what happened” You said quietly, and shifted closer to him.

You wanted him to know he had your undivided attention, and that he should have the chance to at least explain what happened.  You pulled your leg up to rest on the mattress, and turned your body to face him.

Richie looked at you before looking back down at his hand, which was now fisted in your blankets.

“Richie,” You hummed, brows furrowing as you saw how reluctant he was to opening up.  “Tell me” The words were so soft, it was almost inaudible.

You wondered what Henry could have done that Richie didn’t want to tell you about.  He must have really outdone himself.

“He was just talking shit-”

“Richie,” You cut off his bullshit before he could even start.  “Come on, the truth”  

“It’s not-”

“I deserve to know, Tozier! Whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? Just tell me-”

“He said you weren’t worth sleeping with!”

Just like that, you’d gotten him to snap.

And you shut up instantly, shocked by the outburst.  His words processed slowly in your head.

“He said it wasn’t worth trying because you’re- because you’re a slut, and it wasn’t fucking true!” Richie continued to yell.  Not at you, he just couldn’t contain his own anger anymore.

And you thought you were pissed.

“Motherfucker had your name in his nasty fucking mouth and he was telling his buddies fucking lies and I couldn’t- fuck I couldn’t walk away.  I should’ve fucking killed him”

You were staring at him, speechless.  You should’ve known it was about you, Richie was always so fiercely protective of you.  And Henry’s wouldn’t be the first nose that he’d broken protecting you.  But this wasn’t like before.  He’d beaten on your ex boyfriends after they broke your heart.  Henry hadn’t said or done anything to you, he was just doing what boys do.  (Make shit up because they think it makes them impressive when really they’re even shittier than they look)

“I didn’t mean to break your promise,” Richie huffed.  His face was slightly flushed after his mini tantrum.  His hands grabbed both of yours, holding them close to him.  “I’m so sorry I put you through this again”

You were still silent, but he knew this wasn’t a bad silence.  You were still processing, still trying to figure out how to forgive him while making sure this was the last time he crawls through your window looking like this.

“I hope you know that it came from a place of- of caring about you,” He added.  “Caring about you too much, I guess” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Your stupid lovesick heart skipped a beat at the sweet words.  Richie wasn’t one for words, at all, but he somehow managed to say the most loving things without even realizing it.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again, that much is clear.  And if Bowers says one more goddamn thing about your ass I’ll fucking string him up- I will- but I can promise I’ll try, okay? I will, I’ll really try”

He squeezed your hands a little bit, hoping you believed him, hoping you trusted him.

Your eyes flickered between his for a moment, and you could see in them that he was being sincere, and that he was broken up over hurting you.

“You…” He started to speak, but trailed off unsurely.  “You deserve better” He finished.

His eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, before he turned away.

You shake your head, before you let go of one of his hands, and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning him to look back at you.

“(y/n/n)-”

You cut him off when you leaned in and gently kissed him, trying to be mindful of his split lip.

Richie’s eyes remained focused on your closed ones, too stunned to close them, or really kiss her back.

He wanted to kick himself when you pulled away.  He managed to miss his fucking chance because he was too slow to do anything about it.

Your eyes fluttered open in such a beautiful way Richie swore you were holding his heart in your perfect little hands.

His brows were furrowed like you’d confused him, and you absolutely had.  He hadn’t expected you to kiss him.

“Why’d you do that?” He asked breathlessly, and your cheeks burned pink.

Your shoulders raised a bit in a shrug, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

“I just… wanted to” You whispered.

A smile twitched on the corner of Richie’s lips before his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled you in again, so he could kiss you right this time.

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than he’d imagined they’d be.  And he’d imagined countless times what they’d feel like.  Daydreaming in class, before he fell asleep, and being right by your side for the last seven years.

Kissing you was bliss.

He did it again, taking your face in both of his hands and pulling you impossibly closer.  He could feel your lips smiling against his own, and once again, his heart was beating out of his chest trying to get to yours.

“I’m in love with you, (y/n/n)” He murmured when you parted, and you laughed softly.

“That makes sense,” You replied, reaching a hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck.  “And… I love you too”

Richie gave you a sunshine smile, which you couldn’t help but return.

“I’m still upset, by the way,” You told him, still playing with the curls.  “But only cause I’m tired of seeing you covered in bruises, okay?”

He nodded, and you leaned your cheek further against the palm of his hand.

“I promise to try” He said, and then raised his pinky.

You looked from his hand and then back to him, a slight glare in your eyes.

“Come on, just do it,” He urged, you rolled your eyes, but he was persistent.  “Just link fuckin’ pinkies with me”

With a giggle you hooked your pinky with his, and held it for a moment.

“You want to go get tacos now?” He asked, and you grinned, nodding your head.

“You read my mind” You answered, and followed him back out the window.

It dawned on you that Richie was both your lover and your fighter.  And he held those titles proudly.

As he took your hand and walked alongside you down the street, he decided there were no other title he’d want to be labeled, besides yours. ___

taglist: @thegr8kush​

xoxo ~ jordie

[spencerreidisbae123]

Hurt (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Y/n has to deal with the aftermath of telling Spencer that Emily was alive. How does Spencer react? And who will get hurt in the process…

He’s still upset with me. I get why he is, but the way he's been acting towards the rest of the team shouldn't. If he wants to put his anger towards someone, it should be me.

We were called onto a case, but not any case, it was Ian Doyle case. We knew it was now the time to tell them. Hotch, JJ and I knew, but that choice of whether I wanted or not to know was taken from me since her “death”. this secret had been eating my insides out for months, hiding it from everyone and myself. Having to do this made a pit in my stomach. We waited to tell them until we knew Emily had landed in D.C.

Hotch had called everyone to the round table, everyone thinking there was an emergency case coming through. As soon as the words left his mouth, I knew there was going to be looks of betrayal and anger from the team. But Spencer, his face turned pale, betrayal, sadness and anger was radiating off of him. He still hadn’t liked at me but I knew as soon as he did, he would know that I knew this whole time.

Before anyone could self destruct in front off us, Emily had walked in. They all looked like they saw a ghost. I could already feel the destruction that was going to come from Spencer, but before anyone could say anything else, Hotch had told them the seriousness of the case and how faking her death was crucial in her safety and the case. It was crucial to the plan. We had Doyle in our custody and and had to find out who had taken Declan.

Hotch continued like we hadn't just told them, "Hey, Emily's alive and we had to pretend that she was dead to lure back in her psycho ex-criminal lover but now she's back and let's get back to work!"

I could feel the daggers Spencer was sending JJ and I, as if he was on the verge of strangling us. But I knew Spencer, and I knew how passive aggressive he becomes when angry, so I had to stop him from taking his anger out on JJ.

"You knew all this time and didn’t tell me!" He yelled at JJ.

His voice dropped, sending shivers down my spine. I knew that voice, I knew that he wasn't going to stop any time soon.

"Spence, it wasn't JJ's fault, she didn't know about this until a few minutes before you did.” I defended JJ, taking the blame from her to myself. I saw JJ’s head snap towards mine and her eyes wide.

His head snapped from JJ to mine and he was staring dagger into my soul. He looked into my eyes, opening his mouth to say something but closed it almost as if he was speechless. And knowing Spencer Reid, he was never speechless. He stopped talking. He went silent. Silent Spencer was the worst stage of Spencer's anger levels. I knew I had fucked up but it's not like I could tell him without risking Emily's life along with the rest of the team.

I could tell JJ was questioning why I had taken all the blame but I was begging her not to say anything with my eyes.

Hotch stopped us before anything else was said. We had Doyle in our custody and and had to find out who had taken Declan.

He told us that we had to act now or he could get away again.

We ended up finding Declan and his biological mother. It was over. Soon enough, we were back in Quantico and had a meeting with the US senate.

Its been a couple of day since we wrapped up the case and Spencer still wasn't speaking to me. I knew that he was angry and felt betrayed. I hurt knowing that he couldn’t come to me when he feel this this, knowing that I was the only person to see him so vulnerable during times like this.

As Emily, JJ and I stepped of the elevator and towards the bullpen, Spencer walked past, only acknowledging Emily and JJ, without even looking towards my way.

"He's still not talking to you?" Emily questioned. I nodded.

"He knows that you had no choice, we all know Spencer and how he can react sometimes. Just give him some time." She reassured me. I knew she was right but the gnawing feeling in my head hurt from the stress of the past couple of months.

As we entered the room, there was a seat next to Spencer and one next to Hotch. Deciding to sit next to Hotch as I didn’t know how Spencer would react with me. Garcia presented us with a case in Durant, Oklahoma.

"Wheels up in 30." Hotch said as he stood up from the round table, walking out of the room, with the rest of the team leaving along with him.

Before Spencer could speed out of the room, I grabbed his arms and he stopped in his tracks.

"Spence can I talk to you quickly?” I practically begged him. He didn’t move or say anything so I took it as an okay to continue.

"I'm so sorry I kept this from you, but you have understand that I was doing this to protect Emily and the rest of the team. I was under orders not to tell anyone.”

He still wasn't talking but I could see the wheels turning in his head and his eyes showed some sympathy before his facade went back up.

"I'm sorry y/l/n but we had a case to be going to, I don't have the time listening to your pity.” He spat at me, as if I was some stranger and hadn't been his best friend for 5 years.

My heart slowly shattered and I couldn't stay next to him any longer. I slowly nodded and walked out of the room. I thought I saw his face drop as my eyes teared up a bit but I didn't let the tears drop. The hard thing for me was that my feelings for Spencer wouldn’t die down. He held a special place in my heart ever since I walked into the bullpen 5 years ago.

Being in love with your best friend was fucking terrifying.

When getting on the jet, I made sure to sit anywhere away from Spencer. I sat down next to Emily and JJ and Hotch across from us. Even sitting away from Spencer, I could feel his eyes boring into my head. I tried not to look at him but it was hard when everyone I did, he looked like a child whose favourite toy was taken away from them. As Hotch was assigning us what to do as soon as we landed, I was praying he wouldn’t put Spencer and I together but just to my luck, he puts Spencer and I together. Great!

I looked over to Spencer briefly and he looked just as annoyed as I did. Amazing! I have to work with a passive aggressive Spencer Reid. I didn't let that look stay of my face too long as I looked back down at my tablet, but being in a room full of profilers, they probably saw the brief interaction.

The whole day Spencer had been snapping at me and the whole team. I couldn't blame him. The not so subtle ways of him snapping at me was making the whole day and case 10x harder. Hotch had already warned Spencer once but that wasn’t going to stop him still.

Back at the police station, it was late, almost 3am, and everyone was getting tired. Hotch had told us to leave it for tonight and go back to the hotel to get some rest. But as we were packing up, I tried to speak to Spencer again, taking him to the other side of the precinct, away from prying eyes. He didn’t say anything as I dragged him away from the team but he still looked angry.

I was tired and he could tell.

“Spencer, I still am so sorry but please say something to me.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say y/n, you knew this whole time and still chose to watch me fall apart almost everyday for 10 weeks!” He was getting loud very quickly.

“Spencer I had no choice! It was out of my hands! Don’t you think I didn’t want to tell you, everyday I wanted to, but I couldn’t!” I matched his volume.

“Stop trying to make yourself the victim here y/n! You can’t make me pity you for something that you had full control over!”

“You know what Spencer, I know why your angry. It’s because Hotch and I could control our micro expressions from you and you couldn’t detect it!”

“You think it’s because of my profiling skills? Y/n the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your everyday crying over loosing a friend and not once you didn’t have the decency of telling me the truth. What about when your parents passed and I was there for you and was there helping you grieve. What about then!”

He crossed a line when he mentioned my parents death. He really used my parents death to justify why he’s been acting like this. That’s was low, even for Spencer.

I just stood there and processed what he had just said and I couldn't look at him anymore. He said all of this in front of the whole team and probably the whole precinct. Emily quickly stepped in before anything else could be said, but it was too late for that. He had said enough.

He didn't even look like he regretted saying it and that made it worse. I couldn't look at him any longer. I grabbed my bag and coat and left the station.

The thoughts that filled my head was anger, fury and hurt. Why he would bring up my family like that wasn’t Spencer. I knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, his issues with abandonment and everyone leaving him clouded his head. Everyone important in his life had either left or abandoned him.

I kept on waking the direction of the hotel. But in hindsight, I probably should’ve taken one of the SUV’s. The head was filled with thoughts on Spencer and how I shouldn’t have lashed out at him in the first place. I wasn’t going to forgive him just yet but I knew why he acted out like that.

I started to turn back around to walk toward the station and get one of the SUV’s, when I heard a loud crashing sound. I could see from an alleyway near the station, a white unmarked van was parked behind an abandoned shop. It looked familiar. My brain was working out were I saw it before and it clicked. It was the unsubs van. Before I could do anything, I saw him dragging an unconscious women out of the door and into the van.

I grabbed my gun and started approaching him. I probably should’ve called for backup as he was most likely armed, but he would’ve gotten away by then.

"FBI, put your hands up!"

He stopped dragging the women, but didn’t turn around yet.

“Turn around slowly!” I yelled.

He began turning around but I had caught a movement from his hands and it was a gun.

"Drop the weapon!" I screamed.

It happed so fast, he lifted up the gun toward me and I shot at him, but also shot at the same time. I managed to hit his shoulder and he was down. I didn’t know if it was the adrenaline but I hadn't registered that he had shot me. I could feel wetness on my stomach, I looked down and saw red seeping through my white shirt. That's when I started feeling faint. But the unsub want dead and he was getting up. I grabbed my gun again and aimed to him but the gun was weighing up on me and made me loose my angle. He got away.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I tried to crawl toward the victim, she was alive but barely breathing. Finally registering what had happened, I took my phone out of my pocket and tried to call the first number on my calls but I was harder than I thought with my eyes getting lighter and my body telling me to go to sleep. My head was pounding and my stomach hurt like a bitch but I managed to dial the first number I saw on my phone. I could hear the phone ringing and someone picked it up.

"Hello." I heard Emily's voice coming through.

"Hello? Y/n?" She repeated.

"E-Emily" my voice crocked out.

"Y/n, What's going on? Where are you?” She sounded confused.

“Emily, I need backup and a ambulance. I found the unsub, but he got away. The missing women is here. I think he shot her. I checked her pulse and she’s barely breathing.”

"Y/n are you hurt." She rushed out. I could her commotion though the line, people shouting.

"I-I don't know, I think he shot my stomach. Em I need Spencer, he needs to know that I don’t hate him. You need to tell h-him.” My voice was slowly slowing down and words were harder to come out.

"No y/n you’re going to tell him yourself. Okay, y/n we're coming okay, stay were you are, we're coming." She said quickly.

Spencer knew he had fucked up big time. The rational part of his head want working and I made him lash out at you. He regretted it as soon as it came out but his lips kept moving but his mind was telling him to shut the fuck up. He couldn't stop you as you stormed out of the station, knowing you wouldn't want to speak to him right now. He decided when they all were back at the hotel, he would go to your room and apologise. He went to the conference room and started getting ready to leave for the night.

As he was packing up, he heard Emily's phone going off, not thinking much off it. He want listening in on her conversation but when he heard her voice go from calm to panicked, he knew something had happened. He couldn't tell who she was talking to but when she said "y/n are you hurt." His brain put it together. You were hurt! Where were you?! Who hurt you?!

Her voice grabbed everyones attention. She told them what was happening. Spencer had never felt so sick in his life. He couldn’t think straight. He ran out of the station with Morgan and Hotch, trying to look for you. Morgan called Garcia to track your phone and they found you and the victim down an alleyway.

Spencer ran towards your limp body and Hotch to the victims. His heart dropped at the sight of your blood. He did this. He did this when he let you walk out. He said all those things and did this.

He gently lifted your head onto his lap and put pressure on the wound. Your body was cold and loosing colour. He felt sick.

“Y/n!”

"S-Spencer," her voice called his name in such a broken voice.

"Shhh y/n I got you, you're okay, you're fine." He kept saying, almost reassuring himself that your fine and not bleeding out in his arms. He couldn't loose you, he couldn’t . You were everything to him. He loved you. He couldn’t loose you without telling you that.

He looked down and saw a faint smile on your lips.

"You're here, you came.” she said in her broken but angelic voice.

"Of course I came, I lov- I would never leave you." he rephrased his words.

Spencer knew he was in love with you from the first time he saw you. He knew you were going to change his life for the better. And he was right. You had his heart in the palm of your hands and took over his life without even knowing it. Tears were streaming down his face but he couldn't care to wipe them, getting you to the hospital was his only priority.

“Hold on y/n, help is on its way.”

He saw your eyes were closing and he panicked,

"No! No! y/n keep your eyes open for me baby, come on, keep them open for me.” He rushed out. You could feel the blood draining out of your body, but even being hurt, your heart fluttered at the term.

"I'm so tired." he heard you say.

"Help is almost here baby, stay awake for me, I know you can do it."

He was holding on to her like his life depended on it. He could hear the team talking behind him and the sirens from the ambulance getting closer, but at that moment, his only focus was you.

The paramedics had arrived and rushed to see your wound. They were rushing to get you to the hospital. As they were lifting your body onto the stretcher, Spencer started to panic, only then fully processing what had happened. He felt someone hold onto him, hugging him. It was Emily, she was trying to calm him down. He watched as they lifted you on to the ambulance. He let out a sob, clutching into Emily. The ambulance left with JJ going along with you to the hospital. The other ambulance left with the missing women.

Spencer let go of Emily only to be stopped by Hotch. They still had to find the unsub. Spencer retaliated against it, saying he should go with you, but Hotch reassured him that you're safe and JJ is there with you. They needed all the help to catch the son of a bitch that almost killed you.

The next couple of hours Spencer went into overdrive trying to find the unsub, looking at past victimologies and police reports with Garcia. This went on for about 2 hours, until he figured the location of the unsubs warehouse. Hotch saw that Spencer was struggling with you being hurt. He knew how important you were to Spencer and knew the 'hidden' feeling both of you had towards each other. It was no secret to the profilers but they were surprised at how oblivious you both were to the signs. He knew Spencer would put as much effort to find the unsub, knowing that he hurt you.

Before they entered the warehouse, Hotch had stopped him,

"Reid, Are you sure you can go in? I know you want to catch him as much as the rest of us but I will have to stop you if you don't go in with the right state of mind."

"Hotch I know how to proceed!" He spat out to the unit chief.

Hotch was unfazed at Spencer's outburst and knew he wasn't lashing out at him.

"I just need to know, are you going to proceed properly." he needed reassurance from Spencer before they went in.

"Yes."

"Okay, let's go."

They entered the warehouse and split up, Spencer with Emily heading towards the second floor.

Spencer had turned the corner when he spotted the unsub and one of the other missing women.

"FBI! Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head!" Spencer said in a steady, but deadly voice.

But the unsub was quicker, grabbing the victim and holding the gun to her head. The team knew from the profile that he was the type of killer to go ahead with their plan one way or the other and that meant no one would be able stop them, so they knew there was no point negotiating with him. The unsub raised his gun and was ready to shoot at Spencer. In seconds the unsub was dead. Spencer had shot him. He felt no remorse towards the person that had almost killed you.

They had gotten the missing woman out. Spencer knew he was done with the case and ran out to the SUV. He needed to see you, he needed to know if you were safe and okay.

Emily knew he was in no state to be driving, so she offered to drive him to the hospital. They practically ran past all red lights to get to you.

He rushed into the waiting room and found JJ waiting. She said that you were still in surgery.

His heart was pumping out of his body, not knowing what was going to happen. They waited for another hour until the surgeon came in, calling your name.

“Y/n y/l/n?”

They all stood up.

“How is she?“ asked JJ.

“She alive and well, her surgery was tricky as the bullet was still inside her and near her spine but we managed to get it out and she is okay.” The surgeon explained.

That was all Spencer need to hear to know that you were alive. Relief washed through him and he felt as if he was able to breath again.

They all offered Spencer to go first to see you. It was then he saw the wires and machines beeping around you.

Guilt came through him. The rest of the team left him alone with you and he couldn't help it, the tears came streaming down. He sat down on the chair next to your bed and grabbed your hand.

"I'm sorry, I’m so sorry baby. I don't know if you can hear me but I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything I said at the station, it was my anger talking. I was just in denial about the whole Emily situation and I took it out at you. I didn't mean any of it. I need you to know that you mean the world to me. I can't live without you y/n. I love you. I love you with all my heart and I can't believe I didn't tell you before. My stupid fear of rejection stopped me from telling you how I felt.”

He sobbed to your unconscious body, holding onto your hand for dear life, as if your were to disappear. His head was laying on your bed next to your hand.

You felt excruciating pain when you woke up. Bright lights coming though your vision. It took a second for your vision to adjust to the lights but when it did, you saw brown wavy hair next to your hand. It was as if he sensed you were awake, he lifted his head and saw you waking up.

His eyes lit up and the tears were back.

"Y/n, your awake! you're okay!" He practically shouted.

You smiled at him but saw tears coming out of his eyes,

"Why are you crying?" You crocked out.

"I'm sorry y/n. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything I said back at the station." He rushed out.

"Spencer, it's okay I know you didn't mean it. What you said, you were just upset, I'm not going to hold it against you."

"No y/n, it does matter, I wasn't thinking properly and I lashed out at you. I hurt you. This is my fault!”

"Spencer, this isn’t your fault. It’s the unsubs. He’s the one to blame, not you.” I reassured him.

“I know you didn’t mean anything you said at the station, I would never hold it against you.”

The feeling of having your Spencer back was amazing, the last couple of days had been so hectic and full of anger. As you were looking at him, you remembered the words he said to your sleeping body.

You smiled to him. "I heard you, you know.”

"What?” He said with his adorable confused face.

"I heard what you said, when I wasn’t awake?" I asked, unsure about what he was going to say. Unsure on whether it was true or not.

“Did you mean it?” Asking, scared of the answer.

"Of course I meant it.” He smiled at me.

"I love you y/n, I’ve loved your since you walked into the bullpen 5 years ago and I knew it then that you were going to take over my heart.” He confessed.

You looked at him with the most adoring eyes, tears running down your face as well as his.

"I love you Spencer Reid, so much.”

"Will you forgive me," he asked warily.

"Spencer, I forgave you the minute I walked out of the station. I knew you didn’t mean it." You reassured him. The weight of all of this had been lifted of your shoulder.

"But I could use one more thing.” You suggested.

"Anything! anything you want."

"How about a kiss?"

Before you knew it, his soft lips were on yours.

It was in that moment, you felt the most happiest in your life.

Outside your hospital room, Morgan, Emily, JJ, Garcia and Rossi were paying up Hotch on the ongoing bet on how long it would take for you and Spencer to realise your feelings towards the other.

"For profilers, they sure were oblivious." Morgan laughed.

"I can't believe Hotch won!" Garcia exclaimed.

There was a ghost smile creeping on his face. He knew one day the two of you would finally come clean.

[rosehipsister]

oh yeah here comes the huge answer post! phew

First of all i’m really sorry but i have NO SCANNER and we’re in a strict lockdown, so all the places are closed anyway. The quality here is shit.

Y’all only asked two questions actually, and the first was ZONE FARMS. Is their produce good, do they grow much, would i eat it etc. I think i've already put some disclaimers about not having the qualification for this in my other posts, but yeah (question by @serpentski​) Under cut: a lot of farming bullshit, some answers about Tommy Chow Mein and FINALLY SOME ART

Is their produce good? Yeah it is baby! Hydroponic vegetables are apparently very good when you know how to grow them, the things you need are WATER (which i kinda covered in private conversations), SEEDS and MINERAL BASE (the tricky part!) and POWER (which i tried to spin theories about for fucking ever, so). They're just as nutritious and much safer to eat, since if you've been reading the same resources on helium bomb aftermath as me - the problem is not the radiation you're thinking about.

It's decimated ozone layer, death of plant and animal life, years of dust storms followed by harsh solar radiation, acid rains that get you ground ozone and leeching heavy metals into soil... You name it, allright, i'm just writing it from memory. Make it less or more livable to your taste, but the point stands. No grain can stand this. Bye, corn, bye, rice. While there are some ways to make the soil outdoors worth using, most of them take an extreme amount of time and work. I'm sure that regardless of world situation someone here, in the zones, really tries to do their part in this.

Who runs it: it’s a more complicated question. The only cool answer i can give you that in addition to people working their ass off to make their community diet more healthy i wanted to add modified droids! I doubt they would be very mobile on homemade wind and sun batteries, but they don’t need mobility. Unexplored idea, you can keep it.

Would i eat it? If i were there - absolutely, catch me chewing on those greens every time i can get them. The issue is not the taste but the farmers skill and safety measures taken. Not only lettuce and tomatoes can be grown, but beans are pretty easy to get, which is already pretty great!

Main question that anyone asks: is there enough? Is it worth growing? Absolutely yes, but there's another thing i've mentioned before. While these greenhouse plants are their own tiny vitamin machines we tamed, they can't give us enough. Here comes the main star - algae! Last posts got energy and water covered, and that's basically everything you need to get a nice and easily digestible source of protein, oil, vitamins, some elements like iron etc! I even think they make plastics and fuel from it. The whole “diverse” food Batcity gets? Mostly a product of skilled processing and design. I’m sure zones get their share of it too by quite a few channels (i’m not ready to discuss it yet tbh).

Oh yeah and some algae farms are DEFINETELY controlled by zone people, the City isn’t that isolated, and even had chunks breaking off it sometimes.

That brings me to the next question: anything on Tommy Chow Mein and/or trading in the zones.

This might feel too short compared to farming question but i thought long and. While a lot of people think of Tommy as someone who’s ideologically opposite to killjoys and closer to BLI...

My man Tommy has never set a foot in the City. He’s technically much further away from it than Dr D even, he comes from a deeply native part of the zones, old surviving outposts with their own traditions and ways. Wait there’s more. You know who’s culturally closer to Tommy in this way? That’s right - Fun fucking Ghoul, first name Ghoul, middle name Fucking!

Tommy keeps a diary of a specific local sort - a series of old notebooks, with sheets of paper sewn and glued into them. The trick is to write about anything but yourself. I know it sounds like a mad max cliche but it’s not like he’s a History Keeper. These notes are supposed to be as personally neutral as possible, a report/tutorial you only come back to if absolutely needed. Ghoul was taught how to keep a diary like that, but something happened that made him stay off from writing. He can’t shake off this processing habit, so he doodles bits and pieces, couple of words here, some numbers there. Saves most of them, but gets embarrased and discards some when seen.

(I wish Girl inherited this one from Ghoul! That would be so rad but she was too small to pick it up + i don’t think she’s got the character)

Okay, back to Tommy, i’m keeping it short. First of all, he’s very much into old pre-war culture and media and his stereotypical businessman image is just that - reconstructed! He’s just a good old fashioned lover boy and has a soft spot for retro movies. Like, i’m sure he has more gold jewelry than his heavy earring - couple of rings, a chain - but that’s not luxury, that’s estethic comfort.

I think the man is a very grey moral character. Tommy has all he needs to fuck off and retire, probably even without a lot of angry armed customers on his tail. But it’s not who he is, he will make the wheels spinning until the very end, it’s the process, the job, the lifestyle. At the same time he does a lot of questionable things for the sake of his business. It’s just that being a BLI corporate pet isn’t one of them. Too tired to actually elaborate on the barter/trade process today, sorry

Random fact: try to enjoy your love for quiet music with these customers!

[evabellasworld]

Hear the Wind Sing

For @the11tailedlovesclones, this is my gift for you as part of the @starwarsfandomfests event. Thank you to @lilhawkeye3 for organising this event. I really enjoyed it so far.——————————————————————————————

Summary:  Fox and Riyo were relaxing underneath an ancient tree, wondering about the past and the future of their family they're building.

——————————————————————————————

AO3 Link

Stepping onto a dead leaf that was laying on the ground, Commander Fox was walking down a fresh, muddy road, holding Riyo Chuchi's hand. With a plain white T-shirt and his khaki pants, he gazed at the paddy fields to his left, with the young stalks standing still on the murky water, filled with eels and occasionally leeches.

This wasn't the first paddy field that Fox has seen throughout his life. The first one was when he had to safeguard Riyo from danger. At that time, they hadn't confessed their love towards each other due to the circumstances at that time. It was a day after the whole fiasco at her parent's house that they both realized their feelings towards each other.

Even then, both Fox and Riyo had to hide their relationship from the public, despite a few of them learning their secret. The Jedi who accompanied them were the first to figure it out but promised not to tell anyone about it. His brothers and sisters, Thorn, Stone, Thire, Yves, and Lip knew about them as well but decided to not say a word, though they nudged him about it.

It was difficult to have a love affair in public since he was a clone trooper while Riyo was a senator, and kissing in front of everyone would not only ruin both their reputation but also their career as well. Riyo would have been fired and shamed in public while Fox, on the other hand, would either be decommissioned or euthanized or both.

He heard stories about how his brothers were caught fraternizing with their lovers and were never seen or heard again. His sisters, on the other hand, had it worse. There was one clone who ended up pregnant and as a result, both the mother and the baby were terminated by the Kaminoan government.

Disgusted and angry at them, Fox finds himself cursing the Republic for not only treating them like slaves but also restraining their rights to lead normal lives such as falling in love with someone. Since clone troopers were only manufactured to fight to their death, love isn’t in the manual, but that doesn’t stop soldiers like Fox to lead a private life with Riyo.

It was risky, but breathtaking at the same time for Riyo. The romance novel that she read when she was younger, titled ‘My Dirty Secrets,’ was about an office clerk who met a homeless man down the streets and found a spark between them. As time goes by, they both have a love affair and have to keep their relationship a secret from the clerk’s snobbish family. They both didn’t live happily ever after in the end, as the male lover was found dead in the streets, leaving behind his pregnant lover.

The novel made Riyo tear up and astounded at the same time, as she would read it again and again, just to feel poignant. She dreams about having a secret lover one day and wanting one desperately after finding out her parents were once secret lovers as well. 

Their relationship was scandalous at that time since her father was a rice farmer while her mother was the daughter of an aristocrat. Both sides of the family did not approve of the relationship and did everything they could to end their relationship but in the end, they relented and the rest was history.

Who would have thought that Riyo would repeat history by falling in love with someone that society would never approve of? It's almost as if her parents taught her that love knows no boundaries and accepting of each other's flaws. She wouldn't be dazed if the child that she's carrying in her womb would carry on with the tradition of loving someone that is contrasting from what others expect. Who knows?

“Beautiful day, isn't it?” she smiled, noticing her newly-wed husband gazing at the rice fields. 

“Yeah, it really is a beautiful day,” he smiled back, shifting his attention to Riyo, who was squeezing his hands. “Just like you and the baby.”

She chuckled, covering her thin lips. “The baby isn't born yet, dear.”

“Well, how long do I have to wait until our child is ready?”

“Around 27 weeks,” answered Riyo. “Are you this impatient to see the baby?”

He scratched the back of his black curly hair as if he was caught red-handed for stealing candy from a jar. “Yes, I am impatient to meet our child. It's just that, well, I have been preparing day and night on what to do when the baby comes out and what I say to her when I meet her and such. I-”

“Alright, I get it,” Riyo stopped him there. “You're just excited for the baby, I know. But you don't have to stress on every single detail about our child, you know. All you have to do is to go with the flow, that's all.”

He let out a sigh. “I know, I know, but I just can't help it, especially when it comes to something that is unfamiliar to the both of us, you know.”

“Fox, you took care of kids before,” she placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know that you will be a good father to our daughter. I have faith in you.”

Fox could only press his lips on her forehead as he gave a slight nod. “I'll try my best, Ri. I promise.”

“Glad to hear it,” she gleamed as they both continued walking on the road, rubbing her belly. 

For the past four months, she did everything she could to conceal her pregnancy from the public. Whenever she zipped to the bathroom due to morning sickness, she would claim that she was reapplying her makeup and adjusted her hair to avoid suspicion from her colleagues.

Fox was ecstatic to hear that he was going to be a father, but at the same time, he was nervous. With their relationship in secrecy, there is no way people can know that Riyo was carrying his baby. If they ever found out, their relationship would be doomed, just like the lovers in 'My Dirty Secret.' 

With Palpatine forcing him to work extra hours in his shift, he felt guilty for leaving Riyo all alone in her apartment, throwing up inside the toilet bowl. A normal husband would be ready to assist his pregnant wife whenever she needed his help, but not in his case. 

Riyo continued going up and down in the Senate, pushing herself to make sure Republic bills that would benefit the public would be passed while dealing with her dizziness that would creep from time-to-time.

Fox would check in every few hours and would massage her sore shoulders and back to soothe her dizziness. If he was lucky, he sneaked in a ration bar, which she craves a lot. 

She hated those rations for being too bland and chalky for her taste, but suddenly loved them when her favourite womp-rat stew was nauseating for her. Even those Pantoran milk cookies made her lose her appetite, but at least his brothers and sisters have an excuse to hoard for themselves, much to the Marshal Commander's annoyance.

Hyewon especially would stuff everything in one go while Yves just hides the extras in her secret pouch and eats them as a midnight snack. The worst culprit was Thorn, who had a sweet-tooth among the Coruscant Guards. Not only would he put a few teaspoons of sugar and cream, but he also poured a quarter of a jar of cookies inside the coffee, giving Fox a heart attack.

He loves his siblings very much, but at the same time, he has the urge to just smack them on the head for being dumb, which Riyo finds their bickering rather humorous. Though he doesn't admit it, he does miss them and would call each other every week just to check in with them.

Last he heard, Lip left a toxic relationship with her lover after a year, granting her full custody of her daughter. Thorn, like Fox, settled down with his lover on Coruscant. Thire, on the other hand, replaced him as Marshal Commander and served under the Republic military, this time, being paid for his duty, along with Commander Stone.

His batchmates, Wolffe, lived together with Cody, Tori, Mayyah, and Rex in one cabin, leading a life outside the military, though Tori supported her Jedi General whenever she could, since they're still young and coping with the aftermath of the war. He would like to have a reunion with his siblings one day, but for now, he'll have to catch up on some lost times with Riyo.

As they settled down underneath an enormous tree, with a tyre swing hung on the thick branches, Fox found himself surrounded by a field of pastel pink tulips, which were swaying back and forth with the cool wind. He could only gasp as he began to count every flower that he's gazing at right now. 

He was speechless. Likewise, he had seen pictures of tulips in the HoloNet, he had never looked at them, or even touched them in his life. “Ri,” Fox stuttered. “This is amazing. I've never seen anything like this before.”

She grinned, sitting on the swing like she did when she was a child. “I always come here to either play with the swing or climb all the way to the top.”

“You can climb?” Fox raised his eyebrows, his hands on his waist. 

“Yes, dear,” she chuckled. “I climbed this very tree all the way to the top and pretended that I was on top of the world. It was one of the best memories I had growing up.”

He smiled as he stood in front of her, rubbing his hands on her belly. “Sounds like fun, to be honest.”

“Oh, it was fun. I even sneaked out here in the middle of the night just to see those stars in the sky. You'll get the best view here.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. One time, I ran out of the house late at night and climbed all the way to the top of the tree, and guess what? I witnessed not one, but two shooting stars passing by Pantora. Isn't that exciting?”

“What's a shooting star?” Fox asked, who had never done such a thing in his life before.

“Well, it's a star that glides in the sky that grants you a wish if you ever see one.”

“A star that grants your wish? Does it work?”

Riyo nodded. “In a way, it works, though it's rare to see a shooting star in the sky.”

“So, what did you wish for, dear?”

“Well, I wished that I lived happily ever after with a brave knight, and a bright future.”

He let out a snort. “Looks like you only got your second wish to come true, no offense though.”

“Actually, all my wishes came true,” Riyo held his hands, glancing at his deep, brown eyes. “You are the knight that I wished for when I was a child.”

His eyes widened at her words. Surely, she couldn't have wished to be together with him, since they have never even met yet. She was probably imagining a gallant knight that she read in fairy tales, who had shining armour and a handsome look, which admittedly, Fox has none of those. “And how am I the knight that you wished to live happily ever after?” 

“You perform your duty well as a soldier, you protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, and on top of that, you have honour and kindness, and I’m proud that you swooped into my life, commander.” 

He could only hold back his tears as he kneeled on the emerald grass, pressing his forehead against her forehead. His hands were gripped around his waist as Riyo clung her arms around his broad shoulders, feeling each other's hearts drumming in rhythm.

“I'm proud to have you too in my life, To, though I feel that I don't deserve you.”

She raised one of her eyebrows, wondering what he meant. “Fox, don't say that. You deserve good things in your life after what happened in the last four months.”

He could only frown as he recalled what happened on that very day in the Senate building. “Yeah, I remember like it was yesterday. I could never forget it, no matter how much I've tried to move on.”

“You can tell me anything, Fox,” Riyo assured him, even though she already knew what happened back then. “I won't judge you, I promise in the name of the goddess Loona.”

“It all started when I received an order from the Chancellor,” he began. “He informed us that there was a rogue clone who was on the run. According to him, he tried to kill the Chancellor, and we were ordered to hunt him down on Coruscant.”

“So we did. Yves, Duke, Hyewon, Chae, Eren, and Jay, we all had our blasters loaded. We set them to kill since the Chancellor ordered us to do so.”

“But when we confronted him in the warehouse, I just couldn't do it. I had my fingers on the trigger, but I couldn't bring myself to kill him, Riyo. Even though I barely know Fives, he was my vod'ika. I didn't want to take my younger brother's life. Instead, I just let my blaster drop from my arms and sobbed like a child.”

Fox paused for a moment, wiping the tears off his face. “General Skywalker and Rex were there, comforting me. Fives just watched as I told them what the Chancellor ordered, and the next thing I knew, I ended up pointing my blaster at the Chancellor, with General Skywalker and General Windu threatening to step down from duty.”

“And the rest was history,” Riyo concluded, brushing his cheeks with her gentle palms. “I'm glad that you did the right thing, my dear. I know that you wished that you could have acted sooner to eliminate the Chancellor, but your actions have saved the Republic and the galaxy, and for that, we thanked you for your bravery.”

He pulled her closer as he rested his head on her chest, letting his tears carry the rest of their conversation. “I hated him so much, Ri. All those years, he ignored my brother's and sister's pleas against the abuse inflicted upon them, he let them die as they begged for his help to send more troops, he even made us a property that is replaceable. He-”

“It's alright, Fox,” she whispered in his ears, rubbing his back. “He's already gone. The war is over and your brothers and sisters have the freedom to pursue their own life without restraints.”

Riyo took a deep breath as she faced him, never letting go of each other's grasps. “It's hard to live with the traumas after the war. It's hard to face your own personal demons that torment your head. I know it's hard to forgive yourself for not being able to save your siblings from death, but I know you can go through this.”

“You're the strongest man I have ever known, not because of your muscles or the ability to shoot with your weapons, it's because of the way you faced obstacles in your life, Fox. You've dealt with abuse, you've dealt with overworking, you've dealt with prejudices from senators and civilians, and yes, it is torturing. But you know what, you're not alone. You can bounce back from the pit, you can grow to be a better person, I know you can.”

“Thorn believed in you, Wolffe believed in you, Tori believed in you, your brothers and sisters believed in you, and I believed in you. I know you feel alone, but you're not. We'll always be there for you, no matter what.”

Fox could only smile as they let their foreheads touch. Riyo was right. He is not alone in this battle against himself. His friends and family are there to support him through the hard times. Recovering from pain is a difficult path, as there are no right or wrong answers to heal. 

But he can get through this. He will live long enough to witness his child having a family on their own, and he will live long enough to watch Riyo's hair turn grey. As long as Fox and Riyo heat the wind singing their love stories to their children and their children, everything is in safe hands.

[icantsayhellotoyou]

evermore: the musical

CHARACTERS

Dorothea - grew up in a small town by tupelo, was born beautiful & would do anything to be famous. Had a highschool love with william

William - grew up in small town by tupelo, normal guy. Highschool love with dorothea

Este - grew up in a small poor southern town, tough upbringing but still wanted to be loved. Her parents died when she was a teen but she befriended an older, wise woman in town who acts as a mother and friend most of her life

Theodore - grew up in small poor southern town, tough upbringing turned him to be a bad guy 

Marjorie - Este’s older, wiser friend who is full of wisdom

SUMMARY

Tupelo, Mississippi: 

A young & beautiful dorothea is Tupelo’s most prized citizen. She has a lot of pressure to “be something” and because she’s a teenager, has a desire to rebel. She does, however, enjoy the spotlight and attention. William is a nice, normal boy who is desperately in love with dorothea [gold rush]. William and dorothea eventually date - in fact, they are together throughout highschool until dorothea leaves senior year to “make it big” in hollywood. William graduates without her and goes to a college nearby. Dorothea has some traction out there, but faces the struggle of hollywood: nasty agents, inappropriate big-wigs, and fake friends [dorothea]. She comes home on the holidays to visit her parents and always reunites with William for the weekend, before going back to LA [‘tis the damn season]. Two years later, she decides to stay with William and moves into his dorm... becomes friends with his friends… she isn’t happy she gave up her hollywood dream but is tired of not getting anywhere. And everyone can tell. A few years later, William is ready to propose and sets up everything. Dorothea can’t say yes. She leaves him and goes back to hollywood for another try [champagne problems]. Out there, she doesn’t make it big. Instead, she uses rich men to find love and wealth. After years of that, she is at yet another fancy party. Waiting for her next prey. A man asks her to dance. Her next victim. After a marvelous night of dancing and drinking with this man named Theodore, she realizes they were both there to con the rich [cowboy like me]. 

Gainesville, Alabama: 

Este grew up poor. Her parents both died when she was a teen. Her best friend, Marjorie, is an older, wiser woman who acts as a mother to her - imparting life lessons to her for most of her adult life. Este married the town’s notorious bachelor, Theodore, who has a shady history. They had a few good years; Este always looked past the red flags and truly believed him to be a good guy. Theodore was always gone for business - a business no one asked too many questions about, but recently, had been gone more often. After months of trying to be the perfect wife to turn things around in their marriage [tolerate it], she accepts that he might be having an affair.

Hollywood, California:

Theodore and dorothea fell in love that night & begin an affair of many months of meeting in hollywood only, since Theodore’s wife is still in the picture. When theo is back home, dorothea reflects on all her past relationships, fully convincing herself theo is the right guy for her [long story short]. When theo is back in town, their time spent together is full of lust & passion [willow].

Gainesville, Alabama: 

Este confides in Marjorie of her suspicion. She comes home one night and listens to Theodore on the phone with said affair-ee. A confirmation of her worst fear, she leaves town without telling anyone. She had planned to come back. Eventually. 

Gainesville, Alabama:

Theodore reports Este as missing, but after weeks of waiting, is secretly enthused at the opportunity for dorothea to visit him at home. Marjorie takes this the wrong way and suspects that theodore killed Este and is now moving in his mistress. A rough past herself, she is equipped to murder him and hide the body [no body, no crime]. 

Somewhere, USA:

Este is still hopping from town-to-town, unsure where she is going, reflecting on her life. And enjoying the freedom and possibilities [happiness].

Gainesville, Alabama:

Dorothea is not sad at theodore’s disappearance. She is angry.  She knows who did it and out of anger confronts Marjorie. They get into a scuffle and dorothea ends up killing marjorie in a blacked out rage. Dorothea skips town and is surprised when reflecting on the wrongdoings in her life, that william is on the top of her mind. She knows she must leave the country, but attempts to meet william in coney island, where she knows he started a new life. He does not respond but she leaves him a message and goes there anyway in hopes he’ll change his mind, before heading to Europe.

Coney Island, New York:

A melancholy Este arrives in coney island, another stop on her trip. She reflects on the past while sitting on a bench. She notices another woman doing the same, but doesn’t make much of it. The other woman is dorothea, waiting to see if william will meet her at the spot she said she’d be [coney island]. She waits hours for him but he never comes. She leaves. William did come, but too late. Insead, he runs into Este. Who is still sitting on a bench. They get to talking & realize they’re have more in common they just their pain. A romance starts to grow. Este does not know what’s happened to theodore and marjorie back at home. She is nervous for theodore to find out about her affair [ivy]. Even though he had one first, she is still scared of her husband who is a protective man. She calls home & finds out the news of theo and marjorie. She mourns the loss of marjorie [marjorie]. All the while, william and este’s love grows deeper. William receives a letter from dorothea in the mail. By now, he is completely over her [closure]. Because of Este. Meanwhile, somewhere in Europe, dorothea thinks of all the mistakes she’s made in her life - william being the biggest. She believes the pain will last forever, so she commits suicide [evermore]. William and Este live happily ever after.

SONGS (in order)

Gold rush

William falling in love with dorothea, the highschool’s most beautiful & popular girl

Dorothea

William is thinking about dorothea prior to the holidays

Tis the damn season

Dorothea comes home from hollywood for the holidays & reunites with william

Champagne problems

After reconnecting & dating through college, william proposes to dorothea. Everyone knew dorothea still was chasing the hollywood dream & wouldn’t settle down with him.

Cowboy like me

Theodore and dorothea meet at a hollywood party where they’re both trying to find people to con. Instead, they fall in love.

Tolerate it

Este feels theodore’s love for her fade away

Long story short

Dorothea, after finding love in theo, reflects on all the past lover’s she’s had & used. 

Willow

Dorothea & theodore falling in love

No body, no crime

Este tells a friend that she’s been noticing that Theodore’s been gone a lot & finds out he’s having an affair. One she confirms, she is so upset she leaves town. Theodore is having an affair with dorothea & they con people together. The friend thinks Este was killed by theo, so she goes out and kills theo. Dorothea is left in the aftermath.

Happiness

Este, after she runs away is reflecting on theo’s betrayal. She doesn’t know where she’s going yet. She truly thought he was a great guy & always gave him the benefit of the doubt. She eventually comes to term with the fact that she will be happy again, eventually. 

Coney island

This is dorothea to william, but also este to theo. Este, after weeks of stopping in different cities after leaving when she found out about theo’s cheating, ended up in coney island. Dorothea knew theo’s & marjorie’s death looked bad on her so she escaped to coney island, before heading off to europe to start a new life. She knew william moved there & wanted to make amends. He wouldn’t meet her but she went anyway. 

Ivy

Este and william run into each other in coney island and begin to fall in love, their pain in common. In este’s eyes, she still has a mean, protective husband at home and is worried about him finding out about william.

Marjorie

Este finds out about both theodore & marjorie’s death. Dorothea had an inkling that marjorie was the one who killed theodore, so she killed marjorie. She thought she’d feel vindicated but instead finds herself thinking about william. She tries to meet him in coney island and apologize for all she’s done before moving to europe to start a new life.

Closure

Dorothea reaches out to william via a letter, as to keep a low profile. She feels guilty for the things she’s done in her life and is trying to repent. William doesn’t need to hear from her - he is living a happily-ever-after life with este. 

Evermore

Dorothea, reflecting on her mistakes in life… at the end of the song, dorothea commits suicide

[vampiresuns]

How Will It Matter After You’re Gone

For Anatole’s day 13 of @arcana-echoes​: Aftermath.

Title: From Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance (Nana was an MCR teen, it’s only fair).

Quick guide: Here you can check on the Cassano-Radosevic family tree. Medea Pryce & Leonore Kaur are Anatole’s best friends, I owe them a post. Medea is a community organiser, and Leonore a therapist in training. Althea is his twin sister, and Navneet his eldest sibling (there’s seven Kaurs: Navneet, Sashi, Althea & Leonore, and Isha, Vaishnavi and Ashok). Navneet and Anatole end up together in one of his timelines.

Dear Vesuvia,

It is with the greatest regret that the Cassano of this City inform to the public that Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva, Of The Cassano of Vesuvia, has passed away in the Lazaret on the date —.

Taking this time to mourn, while the Cassano and the Consul will remain in the city, striving to find a cure, we inform the city that Consul Valerius has taken the decision to close the doors of the Palazzo.

Due to sanitary measures, no funeral will be held.

Milenko & Amparo

Amparo sat in the middle of the stage of the closed theatre. She wanted to be alone, everyone’s energy threatening to drag her down and never bring her back again, down to a place where the sun does not rise. Not that it matters. The sun could rise a thousand times over, and she feels like she will never notice it again. Losing Anzano, her grandparent, was hard enough. Losing Anatole was unbearable.

Her Anatole deserved the brightest of requiems, and he will have silence, in a bitter city which will probably not mourn him. Not that she can hold it against them — but it still hurts, just like it hurt to feel him die. She always knows when people die.

“Vesuvia lost it’s last honest lover,” she tells no one.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, but she knows she must head back, and for the first time in forever, she dreads Death itself.

When she comes back, she finds Milenko sitting on Anatole’s piano, crying.

Valerian

Valerian Cassano spent three days siting in the winter garden of the Palazzo after his great grandson died. He knew the biggest loss would always be for his parents, he had gone through that long before they had to. Losing a child was something one never truly recovered of.

He remembers so clearly the first time he met that child: golden before his hair caught up with his personality, avid to learn, curious, ambitious, resolved, more intelligent than most people he’s met. He reminded him of Vitale, his father in law.

Sometimes, if you spoke to the dead, they would listen, so he tried his luck: “Elysian, my dearest friend, take care of him. Do what we could not.”

Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia Cassano considered herself a lot of things: dedicated, passionate, fair, reserved, thoughtful. Brave... bravery was something she was beginning to doubt in herself. Seeing your parent die of a disease as invasive as the plague could do that to a person — seeing someone like Anatole, with his vitality of a thousand suns, could cement it a little deeper in oneself.

Cassiopeia didn’t like endings, they were predictable and inevitable and, sometimes, unfair. At least Amparo was back, and she didn’t have to worry about wherever she was and if she would be safe. 

A door opened and closed behind her. She turned to find Iris, her spouse.

“How is Lele?”

“She’s eating, at least.”

“And Lenko?”

“Lenko doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“How... how is...”

“Louisa and Vlad? Please don’t make me answer that.”

“And Va—”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes swelled with tears. Holding her own forehead, she began to cry. Iris sat with her, holding her free hand and kissing her knuckles.

“He rearranged the filing system for the Council by himself— he—” a hiccup, “he had so many plans—”

“I know.”

“He was drafting a social reform for—”

“I know.”

“I’m never going to see him walk around with his coffee, nor terrorise the Praetor. I’m never going to see him— I’m never—”

“I know, my love, I know.”

“He would’ve been a wonderful Consul, Iris.”

Iris’ voice trembled. “I know.” They held Cassiopeia closer. The only thing they could think about was how that could’ve been Amparo.

Mircea & Florentino

“Florence?” Mircea Radošević said, looking and sounding lifeless. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

Mircea understood. He didn’t either.

Medea & Leonore

She’s cried too much to be properly angry, but no matter what she does, no matter how much she pets Leonore’s hair she keeps silently crying, snot threatening to make her unable to breathe alltogether. She’s tired, exhausted, and miserably, dreadfully alone. She feels alone in this world like she hasn’t in years. Leonore has his forehead on her forearm, and a hand on his third glass of spiced whiskey. The only reason why he stopped drinking was because he began crying again.

Medea used to think nothing was enough of a hit to fully break Leonore. He had that quality about him: feelings came, they went, and he sat with discomfort running rampant, only to build up after it was gone with a smile on his face.

Not any more.

Leonore sobbed pitifully, choking on his own cries.

After he finally managed to calm down, he looked at her: “How the fuck will I tell Navneet? How am I telling Althea.”

She began crying again. “I don’t know, Leo — I don’t have the slightest fucking idea.”

“Fucking— How the fuck am I going to wake up tomorrow if he’s, if he—”

“I don’t know, Leo... I really don’t know.”

Antupillán

Antu searched the entire city for Anatole, only not to find him anywhere.

He had gone where Antu couldn’t follow, so he did the only thing he could think of: he went back to Anatole’s room, made himself a lair in his wardrobe, and feel asleep.

If you paid enough attention, you could hear him weeping.

Vlad & Louisa

Aelius Anatole, his son, had come into the world at dawn to seal the lesson that Louisa had brought into his life: that if he knows what love is, it is because they exist. He had nicknamed him Lily because he had always been little, shorter than the other kids, yet somehow stood taller, brighter. He figures all parents think the same of their children.

His son came into the world at dawn. Vlad will never know at what time he left it. He will never know if he was scared. He will never know if the fever kept him lucid. He will never have a body to hold, just like he used to before, when Anatole still asked to be tucked in, demanding to be given a hand to tug on while he fell asleep.

He will have no stories to tell him, he will have no more hallway dances to see him dance, no more dreams, no more smiles. 

Death has taken so much from him, all he feels is rage. For the first time in years, he wishes he had died too, but he has a wife, and he can’t leave her alone.

Louisa De Silva never expected to have any children, nor she expected her only son to be taken away from her. She thinks, no, she knows she will feel hollow for the rest of her life, that nothing ever will be the same: happiness will be a ghost of what it used to be. Food will taste blander than before. Joy will be watered, and laugh will take a long vacation never to return.

That Anatole is now with her sister is no consolation at all. She’s always loved Paris, but right now, she’s envious of her. Wherever it is that they are, if there is such a place, her sister will get to hold her son while she didn’t have a chance to even see him die. She holds the arm of the chair she’s sitting in until her knuckles go white. She feels like fainting.

Incompetent and despotic rulers have taken so many things from her: her family home, her parents when they sent her away, and now, while a different tyrant, the offence is the same, worse even, because they too have taken her son.

Louisa De Silva, mother of Aelius Anatole, is a doctor: she doesn’t need to be told all of this was preventable, but it was her son the one who paid the price.

Valerius

“Uncle! Uncle! Look at what I learnt today in my fencing lessons!” Anatole was 8 then.

“Uncle? Was that your boyfriend?” Anatole, aged 9, hanged from a tree branch to ask him that question.

“Uncle!” He had screamed of joy at 11, running to him in the Palazzo after Valerius moved permanently to Vesuvia.

Dearest Uncle, he had written at 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.

“Valeriy,” he had called him not two weeks ago, still so sure they would endure this. They are Radošević’s, they are Cassanos, the are Vesuvians but also Balkovian: that meant whatever life threw their way, they survived it.

Or they were.

Valerius feels a knot on his throat: he doesn’t have Anatole’s resolve, his progressive ideas, he doesn’t have his hope, and whatever amount of those he had himself, they died with him. They died with him, giving his life away for a city which would never appreciate him, which would never value him like he did. They did not deserve the soil of Anatole’s shoes and now he’s dead. The boy had given them summer without them asking, a summer which was snatched away from him: Anatole had slipped from his grip like sun-rays between his fingers. 

The world should stop without him. That it didn’t was an act of cruelty Valerius would never forgive, even if resentment poisoned him. No amount to lying to himself will change the fact his Aelius died, that he failed his brother in protecting him, that he will have no successor, no one to pass the Consulship to, and that no one will ever be worthy.

A year later, he will watch the Count burn in his bed, and he will smile: Good, he will think, If Anatole did not get to live, then neither should you.

[mothercetrion]

Mutual Crushes

Summary: Shang Tsung knows when a crush is reciprocated.In which Shang Tsung teases Fujin about his obvious (to him, at least) crush on Nightwolf. Fujin isn’t too fond of being called out.

Characters: Shang Tsung, Fujin, Nightwolf (briefly)

Word Count: 1822

the direct sequel to Secrets Kept. now fujin is the one being teased! enjoy :)

warning: MK11 Aftermath spoilers!

———

Escaping the Time Void was easy compared to everything that went down after that.

Emerging in Outworld as Kitana was crowned Kahn was a significant dent in their plans. It was far later than they anticipated to be, and if they didn’t hurry, they would be unable to intercept Cetrion for the crown. After defeating Kollector, they stayed outside the Koliseum and attempted to come up with a plan.

Nightwolf was furious that Shang Tsung insisted that they delay their plans to go to his island. Sitting on a log, he expressed his worries about their location being revealed and running into Cetrion if they left then. Deep down, his plans to betray them later would go awry if they departed right then. But he couldn’t say that, obviously.

Nightwolf’s anger was only eased when Fujin spoke. When Shang Tsung spoke of restoring Sindel—whose actions led to Nightwolf’s death and left him apprehensive, which Shang Tsung expected—it was Fujin who came to his defense.

“The Sindel I knew wiped out most of Earthrealm’s champions in a single battle,” he said. He had gestured to Nightwolf, who appeared briefly upset about the event. “If Nightwolf hadn’t sacrificed himself, she would have killed them all.”

Shang Tsung reiterated the importance of having Sindel on their side because of that power, and Nightwolf continued to express distrust in the plan. Why would he want to restore the person that led to him dying? It made sense that he was worried. Much to Shang Tsung’s delight, Fujin speaking to him helped get him on board. “You have a different plan, Nightwolf?” he asked. “A better one?”

Nightwolf glared at him, but he let out a sigh and agreed to the plan.

It was shortly after that when Shang Tsung decided to tease Nightwolf for his blatantly obvious crush on the god. He tried to deny it, but he failed miserably, for Shang Tsung wasn’t a fool. He had pleaded for Shang Tsung not to tell Fujin, and he agreed wholeheartedly. It wasn’t his place to confess on Nightwolf’s behalf. He was evil, but not that evil.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t tease Nightwolf for it. It also didn’t mean that he couldn’t tease Fujin for the feelings he reciprocated.

It was equally evident to him as Nightwolf’s crush was. Fujin had always been a very kind god for the entirety of his existence; he had even been sincere to Shang Tsung and expressed kindness to him on many occasions. Mistrust, but also kindness. But his words were filled with a sickening sweetness when he spoke to the shaman. The care he held for him was apparent and, to Shang Tsung, clearly hinting to a crush.

He had noticed instances of his crush on Nightwolf while in the Void. They would sit together for hours and talk about everything—Nightwolf’s future demise, their eventual escape from the Time Void, and their lives in general—and Fujin would listen to Nightwolf speak with all of his attention. Every word he spoke, Fujin showed interest. When Nightwolf discussed his Revenant, Fujin was quick to assure him that he would do his best to protect him from that fate. He swore it.

Shang Tsung could only laugh at his words. But at the same time, it was a big promise. Fujin would not make it if he weren’t going to put forth extreme effort to make it a reality. The god kept his promises. It was admirable for him to say such a thing. That was the earliest clue for Shang Tsung that Fujin liked him.

But it became abundantly clear when they were fighting Sindel and the other Revenants, including Nightwolf’s. The two performed a challenging move, in which Nightwolf rode a swirl of Fujin’s winds to take out dozens of enemies in a spin attack. It was impressive to pull off, but… how would they have learned it? Lots of time together, lots of trust between them to agree to do something so dangerous.

Eventually, Shang Tsung was severely wounded, and while off to the side, he watched as Nightwolf defeated his Revenant in battle. He failed to convince him that their shared Great Spirit was honorable, and the living Nightwolf emerged the victor. Shang Tsung, on the brink of death, did what he had to do to keep himself alive: steal the soul of Nightwolf’s Revenant.

Nightwolf was livid, telling Shang Tsung that he could be restored to aid them in the fight against Kronika. Shang Tsung informed him that it was impossible, that they needed him to be alive to get Sindel back at all. Without him, their plan was toast.

For a moment, he worried that Nightwolf was going to attack him. It was a lot to handle, both fighting his Revenant and watching him die within minutes. He was blinded by the intense emotions that he felt.

But his emotions were tamed by Fujin’s touch. Fujin hurried over and placed a firm hand on his exposed chest, holding him back from attacking him. He was quick to calm him, and his words were firm yet assuring. Shang Tsung heard him say something about how he needed to live, but past that, he wasn’t sure what was said. He knew that Fujin was trying to help calm him, and it seemed as though it had worked. When Shang Tsung had recovered, though Nightwolf still seemed angry at him, it was nowhere near the rage he had felt moments before.

Fujin seemed to be able to ease Nightwolf of his anger better than anyone. The effort he put into making sure that Nightwolf was calmed down was reminiscent of closeness. Their bond was unmatched.

He already knew that Nightwolf liked the god. But Fujin felt the same way about the shaman. He was sure of it.

Once on Shang Tsung’s Island and after defeating the Revenants of Jade and Kabal, he and Fujin went beneath the island to gather the crown. Walking through the corridors, Shang Tsung looked around, admiring the torches on the wall and the candles on the ground. He didn’t particularly want to speak to Fujin, and the silence was comfortable.

“I must ask, sorcerer,” Fujin said suddenly. Shang Tsung met his gaze, legitimately curious as to what he would ask. “How long before you betray us?”

Shang Tsung couldn’t help but laugh, smiling at the question. “I find your lack of faith amusing.”

A few seconds passed before Fujin stopped walking and turned to face him, his face deadly serious. “When it happens, we will be ready.”

Shang Tsung’s smile remained. He extended an arm, silently asking that Fujin walked ahead of him. They walked together in silence for a few more seconds before Shang Tsung decided to take his chance to tease. “So… Nightwolf.”

Fujin’s pace slowed, and he turned to look back at Shang Tsung with a confused expression. “May I ask why you bring him up? I know you are not fond of one another.”

“His feelings towards me are abundantly clear,” Shang Tsung muttered. He shrugged innocently, still smiling. “But what are your feelings towards him? Your true feelings?”

Fujin stopped walking entirely, focusing entirely on the sorcerer instead of the mission at hand. “Care to elaborate?”

Shang Tsung stepped up to stand directly in front of him. “You like him, do you not? As a lover, far more than a cherished ally and friend?”

Fujin’s eyebrows shot up in shock. They lowered again in a moment, and he was quickly irritated. “You know not of what you speak. I don’t like Nightwolf like that.”

“Then how come you can calm him from seething anger with a few words? It came effortlessly to you. You two had mastered a complicated move out of nowhere… And who has to keep the other safe and must adjust his winds to make sure he is unharmed?” Shang Tsung nearly snickered at the growing embarrassment on Fujin’s face. “You promised him, swore to him, in the Void that you would prevent him from becoming a Revenant. That’s a hearty promise, even for you. You must… care deeply about him, yes? How it must have filled you with anguish to see his Revenant die, to see him so distressed.”

Fujin frowned. He contemplated Shang Tsung’s words, and the sorcerer held back a laugh as the realization filled his eyes. His secret had been discovered. “You are very observant,” he said quietly.

“So I have been told.” Shang Tsung held up a hand. “But be assured. I will not tell him. It is simply a secret between you and me.”

Fujin looked at him with a deep glare. “I hardly trust you.”

“I do not hear confirmation nor denial of my suspicions,” Shang Tsung teased. “I just want to see if I’m right. If I’m not, I will not push it further.”

The god glanced away, and his cheeks turned a faint red in embarrassment. “Well… you are correct. I like Nightwolf in the way you imply.” He looked back over at him, and he took a step closer. “Please don’t tell him.”

“Oh, I would never,” Shang Tsung said truthfully. “But I cannot promise that I will not participate in some… teasing towards you. Just for my sake.”

“Shang Tsung!” Fujin shook his head. “Not around him. He’s very observant… He will know that something is going on.”

“I doubt it. Heavens, I could potentially mention it outright and he would not notice!” he said. Fujin gasped in surprise, and Shang Tsung was quick to shake his head. “But that would take out the fun of it for me, hm?”

Fujin shook his head and turned away from him. “You give me very few reasons to trust you.”

Shang Tsung walked up to where he was in his line of sight. He was still smiling. “You amuse me. Truly, you do.” He held up a hand and gestured to him, suddenly taking on a serious face. “But I will give some advice, if you will hear it.”

Fujin looked him up and down, but he eventually nodded. “Fine. What is your advice?”

Shang Tsung moved his hand to gesture to the end of the corridor. “Once we get that crown, no matter who is in possession of it, things will be no less than chaotic. Even in your holy hands, things will change. For worse or for better, we do not know.”

He turned his back to him and began to move towards the crown’s location, noticing Fujin’s quickened footsteps behind him. “You may want to tell him your feelings sooner than later. If something were to happen, you would want him to know your truth. The worst that can happen is that he turns you down.”

He turned around and gave Fujin a final, knowing look. “Is it worth it to die without telling him how you feel?”

[moonkissed-ares]

Of course the old gods aren’t dead...

Zeus has heard the call many times in his divine life. 

Immortality is tiresome and days stretch far beyond comprehension.

How can he die however, when there is no justice to this world. 

He has worked hard, 

Put forth many trials and passed enough sentences to qualify him for retirement.

But there are those elude him, those that keep him awake. 

Rapists and murderers, war criminals under the guise of politicians and humanitarians. 

How is a god…

How is a father…

Supposed to die when his children cry for him each night?

The rest she needs even death cannot give her. 

Hera refuses to close her eyes when there are so many families apart and caged. 

Queen Goddess will not have this. 

She refuses to die until there are no children crying.

Hera has the rage of a mother in her heart,

But what use is it if she cannot save every child. 

She will try however, 

She will come for every child even if it's to hold them as they die. 

To let them know the warmth of a mother for one last time. 

Poseidon is raging like a disaster waiting to happen. 

He has been restless ever since the slave ships. 

No rest for him when his land has been made a graveyard.

He tried so hard not to drown them, to guide them ashore but there was nothing…

No life in either land.

Poseidon’s been raging ever since then. 

Helplessness is poison to gods and some days he wishes he could drown them all. 

And some days he wishes he was the one that was drowning. 

He knows there are no more slave ships 

But things haven’t gotten much better since… 

There are still children drowning in him. 

Demeter protects the sacred law but knows nothing is sacred anymore. 

Her lands have become mass graves. 

She carries children within herself. 

Growing flowers where they have died had never been enough. 

She yearns to harvest the heads of the murderers. 

They are out of her reach…

Loved by the public, adored and adorned…

So she shakes the earth in the hopes that they’ll fall loose. 

How is she supposed to die when she is made to another graveyard. 

For Athena death was never an option. 

She is a woman of war and she knows she can not die. 

It is not hubris to know she will survive. 

Look at her eyes, her bronze skin impenetrable by the guns of mere mortals. 

Of course Athena can not die. 

Deathless as she might be she has never been to abandon. 

Each day at the border

Each night at the camps. 

Her shield, her sword, and her mind…

Even she can not find a way out. 

Many poems end in sorrow but Apollo knows this will not be one. 

He sings lullabies to children and war songs to the protestors. 

He has seen it all but never this. 

Perhaps the fates refused to show him, 

Knowing it would drive him mad. 

Each night he closes his eyes, a song dies on his lips. 

A whisper of hope in his mind. 

As seasons change and the wheels of fate turn, this too shall…

He is a man of healing though, 

And he knows it will be years before the world heals. 

He sees the nightmares of each children. 

He feels them shiver in the cold, no blanket on sight. 

Cure for the cold given to them long ago but there is no cure for a lack of heart. 

Not one he can give. 

Children were not fated to die and neither were gods. 

So Apollo lives as does the gods. 

Goddess of the hunt has not know rest for a while. 

There are those who call themselves hunters at the borders. 

She will not have that. 

She will not let them hunt people for pleasure under the guise of protection.

 Artemis is she who protects, she who hunts. 

Her name won’t be sullied by the likes of him. 

Mankind shall not make her into an excuse to act out their sickness. 

No. 

No. 

Artemis makes sure their bullets strays. 

She makes sure they drink way too much and pass out on the way to their sick hunt. 

She confuses them. 

She scares them. 

Goddess of the hunt is after them and eventually she will catch up to them all. 

No one knows war as intimately as Ares does. 

He has seen the aftermath of wars. 

He has comforted mothers, and widows, and orphans. 

No one is attuned to the heartbeat of a scared child as he. 

He has carried bombs on his shoulders. 

His arms has held terrible things. 

His heart has acted out bloodshed as easily as a kiss. 

There once was a time war made sense to them all. 

Some honour to be found. 

Nothing made sense anymore. 

Nothing but the victims. 

So those are the ones he fights for. 

He rebels with them against those that would subdue them. 

He rages with the might of a war god, his voice now belongs to children. 

Children who are angry enough to go in front of the congress. 

Children angry at the world that is trying to kill them. 

Children on tv begging not to be shot. 

His voice is theirs 

His shield is theirs

His sword belongs to them now. 

As tired as he might be of war, he loves his children and he will not die until they all get to live. 

People forget Aphrodite is a war goddess too.

They forget she has taken war as her lover, that she has bore him children…

Everyone thinks that Aphrodite loves all with no conditions attached

But she cannot love all, she cannot welcome all. 

She cannot claim to love the children while embracing their killers. 

That is beyond her. 

However she is ready to heal with her love when called upon. 

She believes in change,

She believes in love.

This is not the first time love has changed actions and she hopes…

She goes to the children at night.

She talks to the little girls who are no longer little…

She does her best to save them

They are too young to be mothers after all. 

Love is a goddess that shall never die. 

Hephaestus once forged the best weapons of war

Now he forges a path free of fire so that children can escape. 

He knows the pain of being discarded,

He refuses to sit and watch as the same happens. 

The fire inside of him belongs to a god. 

It is infinitely stronger than those that would snuff out lives. 

He forges weapons for her warrior siblings

He forges shields for all the children his eyes can see. 

He is the fire underneath the earth waiting for a chance to burn them all to the ground… 

Hermes knows nothing of diplomacy anymore. 

Borders are lines with the dead.

He carries the cries of mothers to Zeus, and he too begs for some form of justice. 

He plays pranks for the children to draw out a smile from them. 

He brings down compounds to the heads of their would be killers. 

He carries messages of hope from one rebellion to the other. 

Children may be small but they are more resilient than gods some days. 

Hermes wants to cry…

He has always loved humans far too much. 

He was a child himself not long ago,  one of the youngest in Olympus. 

Hermes guides the refugees at night, 

Makes sure their paths are safe to cross. 

He tells stories to children at night.

Each of them are too afraid to close their eyes. 

Even gods cannot bring them comfort tonight… 

Hades has seen his share of disasters, mass groups arriving at the gates but this…

Children lined up in front of him waiting. 

He cries each night in Persephone’s arms. 

He knows death and it does not suit the tiny bodies of children. 

Beings full of joy and life, yet in front of him they seem ever so small. 

Persephone is furious, but she cannot give in to it. 

She has many children to care now. 

She will not let them see her cry, she will not remind them of pain nor sorrow. 

Persephone brings spring to the hearts of the children. 

Hades welcomes them to his arms. 

He had always been impartial, his domain demanded it so but no longer. 

Hades loves his children. 

He would defy the laws if he could. 

He would close the gates if he had the power. 

King and Queen eternal with their eternally young children. 

No one is dead. 

Not really. 

Neither gods nor the children. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Seeing Red (boxer AU)

Summary: When Shawn loses control, he loses his heart.

Warnings: angst, violence

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

He was never as angry as he is now, she could tell. During the span of their two year relationship, Shawn had never said a bad word to her, even when the fighting got bad. No, he'd always direct his anger to the punching bag, the sack he could hurt instead of saying things he would regret down the line.

Shawn never knew she was aware of that.

When their fight would reach its climax, Shawn had a habit of walking out and disappearing for hours and while she was alone at home, wondering if she could have done something to make him stay, he would rid of his anger and return with a milkshake they could share and talk things through.

Until now.

Y/N trusted him, loved him, stood in his corner in both life and ring, all because this curly haired boxer had arrived in a hospital during her first night shift and she never left his side. Even beaten half to death, Shawn managed to win her heart and he never lost it.

That's why she needed to know where he goes when he leaves the apartment they shared. So, completely aware she's insane, she sat in the car and followed him. Y/N prayed he didn't meet with some girl behind her back, someone who didn't push his buttons or dance on his nerves when it was clear she should inject love instead of anger, yet she couldn't help but spar with him and it always got them in a standstill. Both so headstrong, unwilling to back down from a fight as long as they thought they weren't wrong.

And while she was nervous about knowing the truth, gripping the wheel tightly as she parked, she let out a relieved sigh as he entered his old gym. It didn't necessarily clear his name yet, but she felt she knew why he was there.

Anger issues aside, Shawn was always a kind hearted man, so gentle she nearly cried the first time he touched her. But when the anger comes and he sees red, Shawn was different, an animal with no sanity, no reason. His training kept him in check, but she did wonder what would happen if he didn't spend his energy on the sack.

And that's where she found him, punching the bag over and over again, his curls untamed and bouncing on top of his head, a few sticking to his already sweaty forehead. She frowned deeply, her teeth sinking in her bottom lip as she cocked her head to the side, feeling like an invader of his privacy.

She heard his grunts and growls and the way he focused on the bag was intimidating. He was a machine in the ring, it's why he almost always wins...the only time he lost resulted in their meet and she always thought of it as destiny...serendipity.

His unwrapped hands already turned red and a few knuckles started to bleed, making her wince before deciding to step out of the shadows and be a grown up. She had to talk to him, let him know she was wrong about asking him to stop boxing because it is an integral part of who he is and who he is now is the man she fell in love with. Changing him would be the worst thing she could do, especially when it helps him, heals him...Boxing keeps him tame and she while she liked both the lover outside the ring and the fighter inside it, lately Shawn had a hard time keeping the line separate between the two.

"Shawn?" She called out for him, slowly approaching so he wouldn't get spooked and accidentally redirect his punches elsewhere.

He didn't hear her, even as she was a few feet away from his swollen muscles and prominent veins.

But his hands were bleeding, droplets of blood falling on her face and she couldn't let him hurt himself any longer, jumping on his back with her arms wrapping around him in hoped of restraining him long enough for the emotions to calm down.

"Please stop! Please, love, please!" She screamed out, crying at the sight of his cracked skin. The worst part of dating a boxer is always the aftermath of every match - broken nose, bleeding, bruises all over the body, cuts, concussions. It broke her heart.

Unaware of her presence, still too lost in his rage, Shawn's hands grabbed onto her forearms, pressing a little too hard as he twisted them, seeing red before he heard her cry out in pain and her hold relents, releasing him.

"Fuck!" He swore loudly, turning back so fast he felt his heart jump at the sight of his favorite girl, rubbing her forearms carefully as she looked at him like a wounded beast.

"Baby, I'm so sorry! I didn't know..." He trailed off, guilt overwhelming him as she shakes he head, taking a cautious step back at the same time he steps toward her.

"Please don't be scared of me." He whispered and while she wanted to indulge him and come closer, hug him fiercely, the pain in her arms stopped her. It's basic instinct, staying away from what harms us and Shawn harmed her, even if it was unintentional.

"I want to not be. I do." She croaked, her bottom lip quivering as he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.

"I just needed to let the anger out." Shawn sighed, unable to look away from her even if he wanted to. His mind had already engraved the image for later torture, there to remind him what happens when he loses control and why he can never lose control again.

"I know." She spoke quietly, turning away from him. She needed to hide her face, the uncertainty in every line he adorned.

"I wanted to tell you I was wrong. You shouldn't quit. And I...I stand by that. I had no right to ask you this, but...I have every right to ask you to see a professional, Shawn." She looked over her shoulder, feeling his eyes are locked on her and while she loved how he would always watch her with unwavering affection, it just didn't feel right on that particular night.

"If you don't, I don't think we can work. Because I'm not the submissive girl who will back down and refuse to fight for herself and her opinions and I can't have someone who explodes without a warning every time I do." She continued, swallowing thickly as he ran a hand through his curls, his tongue dancing along his lower lip.

"Are you...breaking up with me?" He dares to ask, his heart shivering inside his chest, driving him to the brink of madness.

"That depends on you, Shawn. I just need a break." She drew a short, shuddered breath before continuing, the words just as painful as the already blossoming bruises on her arms.

"Get help. If not, don't come looking for me because I won't be home when you come back."

And while he wanted to scream, ask her why she's doing this now, two months before the big fight he had been preparing for, Shawn remained rooted to his spot, silent as he watched her go, wondering how he let things get so bad.

Tags: @beinscorpio @heyits-claire @ourlittleshawnie @esoltis280 @dolandolll @lanallaa

[birdsong-warriors]

Ok I’m gonna get right to it and ask what your thoughts are on Ashfur- personally I loved him in the original arc and then everything else happened smh. However much you wanna say about him is fine by me lol

oh my heck this is so long i am sorry nxksbfkd

Once upon a time, three cats fell in love; Whitestorm, Brindleface, and Redtail. They bonded and grew together as friends, then lovers. Redtail, being a male tortoiseshell, was mostly infertile, so it came as a shock when Brindleface gave birth to a single daughter who clearly carried his blood. Sandkit.

But then Redtail died. And the remaining partnership fell apart. Whitestorm and Brindleface were close friends, but were only lovers through their love for Redtail. Whitestorm was rapidly falling for Redtail's sister, Willowpelt, and Brindleface wanted to pursue her own life.

But she was pregnant. The Clan rejoiced; Redtail's legacy would continue through them as well as Sandstorm! But Brindleface and Whitestorm exchanged nervous glances. And when she gave birth, their fears were confirmed; these were not Redtail's kits, but Whitestorm's.

"They should be his." He says, angry and spiteful at himself. "It's not fair."

Brindleface brushes her tail across his flank and rests a paw on his. "We all knew they wouldn't be. But we shall tell the Clan they are."

"What about the kits? Should they know?"

"...his legacy would give them something to aspire to."

Moons pass. Sandstorm raises her siblings on stories of Redtail, how he died to protect the Clan. Cloudkit is added to the litter. Ashkit and Fernkit fight to avenge their mother's name. All the while, cats praise them; "You have your father's courage." They say with a smile. "Redtail would be proud of you."

But the truth comes out, one way or another. Ashpaw confronts one very tired Whitestorm, spitting in his face. "I thought my father was a hero. But it was you all along. Some washed up old cat with barely a will to fight!"

Whitestorm doesn't argue. The battle with BloodClan is coming. He's so very tired. He misses Redtail with all his broken heart. He let Brindleface die, he couldn't protect his aunt Bluestar, and now he's betrayed his kits. He accepts his brutal death with relief. He can be with Redtail and Brindleface again.

But at the end of the day, Ashpaw stands in the bloody aftermath of war, all of his guardians gone. He thought he hated Whitestorm, but now that he stands before his father's broken body, he wonders. Would he be proud of him for having delivered the killing blow to Bone? Would Redtail?

...would anyone?

As time passes, he watched how everyone recovers, and seems to pretend that the war never happened. That Tigerstar never destroyed their lives. How can they trust anyone ever again? He could be betrayed at any moment, by any of his clanmates. Ferncloud has moved on, building a family with Dustpelt. How can she trust him? He was one of Tigerstar's old supporters! What if he left her, as their true father left their mother? Everyone seems so happy… how? How do they do that?

Squirrelkit and Leafkit are born. Squirrelkit chases him around sometimes, and he finds himself brightened by her presence. She becomes Squirrelpaw, a bright, strong, spunky cat who takes no dirt. He admires her so much, especially after the move to the lake. How could she have been so strong? What if she died? She was his only real friend, he couldn't bear to lose that light again.

He grows to love Squirrelflight, clinging to her through all the darkness of their lives. He sees the old hero he never met in her. She has a loving family and trust in her clanmates. She has and is everything he wants. They must be perfect for each other, right?

But then Brambleclaw is there. He steals Squirrelflight away, and his smell is always on her now. Brambleclaw, the son of the one who took everything away from Ashfur, was now following in his father's pawprints. He was stealing the last spark in his life.

And then their kits are born, and everything is going well. They have a happy little family. Without him. He had no place among them anymore. He had no place with anyone anymore. But he is still forced to apprentice their son. His anger and pain festers into a gaping infection in his broken heart. Seeing others happy makes him want to scream. He could have had that! Why did StarClan do everything to keep happiness from him! 

The fire comes. He gets an idea. This has to end. If the world was intent on taking from him, he would take back. He would take everything. He corners Squirrelflight and threatens her children. But his eyes are not on them, they are on her. Everything is her fault.

"They are not my kits." She claims. The family, now as broken as Ashfur is, retreats. He stares after them. He has to get away. From everything, his own thoughts even. What does this mean?

He stares into the lake, hopeless and lost as to what he should do. Who was he, why was he like this? No cat was ever happy around him. What was he doing wrong?

A black cat approaches. Squirrelflight's… no, Leafpool's daughter. Hollyleaf is cold, and before Ashfur blinks, he's dead, blood staining the ground and Hollyleaf's paws. That was it.

But it wasn't. Ashfur awoke in a gully, a strange feeling all about him. He found cats nearby, and his heart raced upon seeing the face of his mother on one side of the gully. On the other side stood Hawkfrost.

"Where am I?" He asks, glancing between them. "...is this StarClan?"

"You are trapped in limbo." Hawkfrost spoke, calm and steady. "Between them or us. You must choose where you belong."

Ashfur narrows his eyes, confused.

"You are a wretched, blackened soul, Ashfur." Brindleface spoke, voice broken as she watches him, shaking her head in pity. "The others in StarClan… they won't accept you."

"So you come with us, to the Dark Forest." Hawkfrost purrs arrogantly.

The Dark Forest… Ashfur stares at the ground. "...you said I had a choice."

"You do." Brindleface takes a step forward. "Ashfur… you have led such a toxic life, poisoning those around you, all for your own sake. Have you any regrets?"

Another figure steps to her side, a ginger tortoiseshell with bright green eyes and tufted ears. He breathes a sigh. "We are aware of how our actions affected your life. We accept we did not help you near enough, and made you feel abandoned and alone. For that, we are sorry." He bowed his head, eyes still on Ashfur. "...but are you?"

"Come on!" Hawkfrost spat. "You don't regret a thing, don't lie to us now. You belong with us. Tigerstar will lead you to greatness. You will have your chance to sink your claws into the flesh of those who betrayed you." He cast a meaningful glance at Brindleface and her companion. "And those who abandoned you."

Ashfur stands between them, processing his emotions and his heart. Did he regret this? Would he continue his hatred and use it to kill his clanmates?

Could he kill Squirrelflight? Hollyleaf? Brambleclaw?

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "No… I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I don't want to be like this. Please, help me deal with this, help me be better! I know I caused all of this, maybe if I'd been better… but what could I do, I hated everyone!" He sobbed, growling at his paws. "...help me. Please."

Brindleface glances at her companion with a smile. "Come up this way, Ashfur. We will help you any way we can. You belong with us."