#this goes for outside of work too. take precautions

[corporalkiheart]

I work in Paediatrics and we have a lot of medically vulnerable children. You know what vulnerable DOES mean, when we write in our notes, our clinic letters?

It means take a little extra care. Be a little extra cautious. Have a lower threshold for hospital observation because they can become ill more quickly. Be extra careful about exposures. Bring in senior and specialist advice earlier, because they’re complex. It means yes, they will take more time and effort, so *take that time and effort*.

'they were medically vulnerable' doesn't mean they were already dead or dying

'they were medically vulnerable' doesn't mean it was inevitable they would get the virus

'they were medically vulnerable' doesn't mean their life didn't matter

'they were medically vulnerable' doesn't mean their death isn't sad

they were medically vulnerable' is not an explanation for how or why they got COVID, because existing disabilities and conditions are not COVID and do not cause COVID

'they were medically vulnerable' doesn't mean that there was nothing that could have been done on others' part to prevent them from getting it

'they were medically vulnerable' doesn't mean they deserved to die or should have died

'they were medically vulnerable' is not there so you can feel relieved you aren't like them while doing nothing to protect people like them

'they were medically vulnerable' didn't make it any less important for people to try to protect them from infection than it is to protect you, your life is not worth more or less than theirs was

'they were medically vulnerable' does not mean they were fucking expendable

(seriously some of you sound downright genocidal about this topic and it makes me want to lie down on the floor and sob)

[yeyinde]

(sighs dreamily) i loooove the way you write fucked up and gross simon. the size kink and somno drabbles have been living rent free in my mind for almost two weeks now. the recent stalker piece was also so deliciously terrifying, i actually had a dream/nightmare today that was a mixture of stalker!ghost and not-dog!soap 😭

are you planning on writing any more for either of those?

ahhh thank you!!!! this had me wondering how i could maybe blend the two and this happened.

stalking. HEAVILY implied noncon somno. size difference.

Simon decides your dog, your baby, needs a man in the house. and since you like to call yourself his 'mama,’ then it’s only right that he becomes the daddy both of you need.

Your dog does not like strangers.

He's a rescue and the sort of life he lived until now, until you, is mostly a mystery. You found him on a rainy day, panting under your awning - a gnarled mess of matted fur glued to bone. Too skinny to survive another winter. You took him in right away and gained his trust. His love. But whatever he had left to spare (lots, it seems) is strictly reserved for you. Everyone else is a threat, a worry. Even the vets he's known since you found him all those years ago still get the same wary glances, the same growls then they lean in too close to whisper something in your ear.

He's just—special. The sweetest thing ever when it's just you. Your baby. People joke—slightly nervous—that he treats you like his mother. Following you closely with his big, glossy eyes tilted up to stare at you. Loving. Cuddly. Rests his big head on your lap at night with a great, big sigh. Tired from a long, hard day of protecting his house from squirrels and the stray delivery driver.

But when it comes to others—anyone, really—he’s aggressive. Territorial. All the vets and trainers say that it's his breed. That he just needs to be trained. Exposure therapy. Behavioural. And it works for all of two weeks before he's back to his stubborn self. Snapping at anyone who gets too close to you.

You post warnings on your fence. Your front door. Take precautions when you walk him. Warn anyone who gets close that he doesn't like anyone. Full stop. No exceptions. And it works. Helps ease the stress. He still goes to therapy. To training lessons. But he's smart enough to trick them into thinking he's learning.

And it's fine. People can't get too close to you. To his house. His territory.

Or so you thought.

But he's been acting strange lately.

You caught him barking at something through the fence a few months ago; spittle flying from his muzzle as his lips peeled back, snarling and vicious. If the fence wasn't reinforced, you think he would have broken it down to get at whatever was behind it.

It continued like this for a few days. Each time you went to check and see what was there, all you find is littered cigarettes. The teenage son of your neighbour, you think. He likes to hide in the dense woods so his parents can't find him. You'll talk to him about it later. Ask if he can do it a little further away from the fence so he isn’t disturbing Baby. 

As the days grow, his growls and snarls diminish before stopping outright. In the interim, your unease grows.

It's small—at first. 

He wants to be outside more. Always whining at the back door, scratching at it with his paw. When you let him out, he runs right to that spot by the fence. Sits down, and just stares. When you go out to look, there's nothing there. Just a dark, sprawling coppice. Cigarettes on the ground. But something catches his attention. Keeps it. Holds it.

He leads you to that spot sometimes, too. Nudges you with his big, furry head to your thighs. Shepherding you to the fence, and then sits back, clearly preening. Proud.

"You're mama’s silly boy, aren't you?" you coo, scratching his ears. It must be the neighbour. Maybe a stray deer wandered by. You catch a flash through the tree line. Twin puddles of black peering through the tangled weeds. Your dog perks up, looking towards it. A deer, you think. A stray buck. You huff, patting his head. "Made a new friend, huh?"

But you can't shake the feeling that something else is out there. That something is staring at you.

Nothing, you tell yourself, fighting off a shiver. It's fine. Fine. He sneaks off at night sometimes. You hear him playing in the hallway. Wandering around the house. The tack-tack-tack of his nails against the hardwood as he walks back to your bedroom lulls you back to sleep. You feel the bed dip. Something warm against your back. You sigh, melting into the sheets—

There's nothing to worry about.

He'll protect you.

But the next morning, you find him locked outside. The patio door shut. The deck is dried from the sun, but his fur is wet. It rained last night. You drifted in and out to the patter of it on your window. The soothing weight of his body curling around you—

He must have gotten out in the morning. Rolled around in the grass. But when you put him in the tub later to scrub the rainwater off of his cost, his belly is dry.

It's nothing. He was in bed with you last night. It's fine. Fine. Everything is easy to explain away as coincidence. Nothing usual. The feeling of being watched. The missing food from your fridge. The creaks of the old house at night. Things shifting around—keys missing only to turn up somewhere else. Rodents chewing through your landline. 

The panties you shed, tossing into a corner before getting into the shower going missing—

They’re just—lost in the wash. You must have thrown the leftover food away when you cleaned earlier and forgot. The lingering scent of cigarettes. Smoke in your bed. The cloying scent of loam, humus. Fresh dirt. The stains on your bed. The strange smear in the gusset of your panties when you peel them apart.

Something thick, firm between your thighs—

Fine. You tell yourself. Everything is fine. At best, it's a gas leak. At worst—well.

Baby will protect you. 

Always. 

But the next day, he brings his favourite toy to the back door, asking to be let out, and this isn't—

It's not normal.

He's possessive over his toys. Keeps them on his daybed and refuses to let anyone touch them. Only you. He doesn't bring the. Outside, either.

But when you peer outside a few minutes later, the toy is lying by that spot near the fence. He's sitting down, tail wagging. Happy. Excited. It continues like this for the next few days. He brings his toys to the fence, coming in later, licking his lips. When you brush his teeth at night, you smell something gamey on his breath. Meaty. 

Getting out of bed a few hours later and playing in the hallway. Going to sleep with you at night, but somehow getting out in the early hours of the morning, waiting for you on the patio when you remember the huff of his breath over your neck less than an hour ago—

No. You're just—

Getting the time wrong. It's fine. He'll protect you. He doesn't like anyone but you.

You hear footsteps in the hallway at night next to the click-clack of his nails. When you jump out of bed to check, it's just him. Sitting by the back door, head craned over his shoulder when he heard you coming. His favourite toy is sitting on the ground in front of him. You fight a shiver. The feeling of eyes burning into you churns your stomach.

"I'm going crazy, sweetheart," you coo, but feel the threads of your sanity begin to snap one by one. "But you'll keep me safe, right?"

His tail wags. You pretend not to notice the gap in the patio door. Opened just a crack. You shut it, forcibly telling yourself to remember to close it next time and fight the memories of locking it before settling on the couch to watch old re-runs. You drag him back to bed, burrowing your head into his fur, listening to the thud-thud-thud of his heart in your ear. 

When you dream that night, it's of a big, scarred hand making its way between your thighs. A rasping, masculine voice in your ear commanding you to be good—

You wake up with your thighs sticky, wet. Your cunt pulsing. There's an ache there; a sting. It twinges when you move, tapering into a sore throb as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, woken up by the strange dream—fingers between your thighs, a head resting on your belly, calling you a good girl—and a noise.

A low murmur comes from the living room. You wince with the first several steps, forcing yourself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs. The wetness that drips down your leg, some of it already dried, sticking to your skin. It’s fine. You just had a—

A wet dream.

—everything is fine. Fine. Your heart lurches. Lodges in your throat. Each beat feels like a fist against your tissue trying to break down the prison of your flesh to flee. 

You slowly inch toward the hallway, the sound, making excuses for the fear that curdles in your belly. The itch in the back of your head that calls you stupid. Demands you go back to bed. To sleep. You’ll wake up in the morning to Baby slobbering over your chest, drooling as the time ticks away in a slow crawl towards his usual breakfast. 

It’s tempting. The sleep congealing in the corners of your eyes, weighing heavy—molasses-thick—over your sense of awareness: cobwebbed in that strange, uncanny realm of sleep and wakefulness; hypnagogia turning shadows on the walls into human shapes. The whisper of wind into the brassy drawl of a voice. 

Through it all, the prickle rears. Says something isn't right. Hasn't been right for a while now. It's fine. Everything is—

It doesn't make sense at first. Your brain tries to wrap around the images your eyes feed it. Untangling the dizzying sense of confusion that runs along your hindbrain like a jagged knife; grazing tissue, scraping over nerves. The picture comes together quickly. There's no misinterpreting the shapes.

A man is lounging on your couch. Legs kicked up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. The remote is held in one hand as he lazily flicks through the channels on your television screen. The picture of ease. So relaxed, so comfortable in your space, that you begin to feel a little bit like an intruder. A voyeur peering between the curtains.

This feeling is reinforced when you peel your eyes away from the horrifying mask on the man's face—a black balaclava—and find your dog lounging beside him. Resting with his head over this stranger's thick thighs. His head perks up when you approach, tail wagging, but he doesn't get up from his spot. Content to bask in the half-hearted attention the man doles, a hand buried in his fur. Dragging over his ears. Down his back. Monotonous flicks of his thick wrist, nearly the same width as the barrel of a baseball bat.

And that just trembles down your spine in the worst way.

He's the same height as you are sitting down. Takes up two cushions on the couch with his absurd bulk. Massive, you think. And then it all rushes through you. The knife slips into your cognisance.

There's a man in your house. Petting your dog,

your dog who tries to bite the same vet he's had for years. Who trusts, who likes, no one but you—

You make a noise. Something strangled in the back of your throat. Muffed, unable to escape through the clot of your heart getting there first. It tangles around your pericardium and is too late to take back. To swallow down. 

It doesn’t matter, though. 

The man has been watching from the beginning. 

Dark eyes (a dark, black flash between the leaves—) drill into you. Staring. That familiar, unease feeling is back again, creeping up your spine. It's been him the whole time, you know. The thing behind the fence. Must be. The same brand of cigarettes you found on the opposite side is sitting on your coffee table, right beside his feet.

His chest expands with his inhale. You smell stale smoke. Something wild. The scent of the forest after a summer's rain shower.

"Finally up, are you? Thought you were gonna sleep all day." His voice is deep. Brassy. The growling roll of an approaching thundercloud. You shiver. Jerk back, but—

Baby growls.

He's never done that before. Never barked. Never snarled. Never nipped.

But right now, his teeth peel back, muzzle wrinkling as he lifts his lips. And you know it's playful. Seen this look on his face when you throw the ball across the yard. It's just him being his silly self. He won't attack you. Won't maul you. 

The man lifts his hand and your dog limbers up. Shakes. He jumps off the couch and trots toward you. Nothing is threatening in the way he moves. It's the same lumbering gait, the same happy wag to his tail, but he moves himself around you. Stands between you and the only escape.

"Baby—?"

"Taught 'im a few tricks," the man drawls conversationally—like he wasn't a stranger in your house. "Got a good boy on your 'ands. Jus' needed a bit o'trainin'—”

He snaps his fingers and Baby moves. Bumps his head into the back of your thighs. Pushing you. Nudging you toward the man. It’s so horrifying familiar that you find yourself moving without a thought. Following along. 

"He jus' needed a man in the house, didn't he? A father figure—" 

You're going to be sick. Think you would have been already if your heart wasn't lodged tight in your throat, keeping everything down. 

The man lifts his hand. Curls his fingers. 

"C'mon, mommy," he taunts, voice a derisive roll. "Come sit on Daddy's lap. It's movie night tonight."

Baby pushes you forward happily, tail wagging, wagging—

Happier than you’ve ever seen him as this stranger reaches out, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You think about fighting immediately, struggling to get out of his hold, but he moves back and the unmistakable, blunt press of a gun sends shivers rolling down your spine. You still instantly. Back drawing tight. Fear is a wet, hot pulse behind your ribs. 

“Don’t fight it, birdie—” You feel the warm, damp press of his mask against the shell of your ear. The ridges of his lips move beneath the fabric as he speaks. 

You hear him inhale, drawing in the scent of your shampoo—your fear: an oily thick miasma pooling behind your ears, against your nape—and feel tears pool against your lashline when a surge of familiarity wells up at the solid, firm weight of his chest against your spine. His thigh slips between yours, spreading them wide over the arch of his muscle. Limp, dizzy, you fall back into his chest when he pulls you in, slotting a burly arm over your ribcage. Locked in tight. A shackle. 

“Ain’t go’ nothin’ t’worry about,” he continues, hips shifting. Moving. And—

It’s a not gun. You know it isn’t. When you whimper, it throbs—

There’s the echo of a groan in his voice when he huffs, lips pursing into a kiss. “Nothin’ at all. C’mon, Baby—” 

And Baby obeys eagerly, jumping up on the couch beside him. His snout is warm, wet, when he presses it to your arm, sniffing. Please, you think, staring into his eyes as tears swell, pooling down your cheeks. Please—

But the man lifts his arm, and Baby circles the cushion before falling against his side with a deep, content sigh. Hope is snuffed out of your chest in an instant. The man’s hand falls to his head, rubbing his skull affectionately. 

“Good boy.” Baby perks. His happiness is a palpable thing that swells around you as he melts, eyes slipping closed. “Gonna be a good boy while mum an’ dad spend some time together, ain't you, boy?”

His arm tightens around your waist. Chin notches over your shoulder as he shifts back, legs kicking out to spread your thighs further apart.

"Now," he drawls, hand sliding down to the mess between your thighs. You shiver against him, toying with the idea of running, fleeing—but he must know. Senses it, maybe. He lifts his hips, pressing the gun into your spine. A threat. A warning. But with the way he swallows you up—broad chest closing in on you, trapping you on all sides—you know it's futile.

He has you.

Your submission makes him purr.

"Baby's sleepin', so now let daddy take care'o mommy—"

[luveline]

Ok but can you imagine if bombshell!reader who is pregnant does fall down somewhere?? Everyone, Spencer very much so, freaks out and she tries to play it off cool even though she’s really sore. She and baby are ok but she and Spencer are definitely shaken up by this and he’s even more hover-y from this 😭🥲

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader falling and panicking lovely bf spencer, 1.3k

“We’re like, the dream team,” you say, sewing your arm through the crook of Spencer’s. He’s trying to zip up your jacket, which is difficult given the ever-growing curve of your stomach. With one arm, it’s hopeless. 

“We are,” he murmurs obligingly, thinking about how cold it is outside and how you’ve yet to give in to the ‘ugly-fest’ of maternity clothes at work. It’s a shame. You look adorable in them at home. “Maybe you should put on your hoodie.” 

“It’s fine, it’s like, three steps between the station and the hotel.” You smile at him. He loves your eyes, your lashes, and he forgets to be stern. 

“Let’s go, then.” He waves at Emily where she’s chatting with an officer. “You ready?” he asks. 

Penelope pops her head out of the office with her laptop bag tucked under her arm. “Let’s go home, my chickens.” 

You and Spencer devolve into one of your murmured conversations, giggling, pressed arm to arm as you and the team emerge from the warmth of the police station and into the cold winter air. It’s sub zero outside, Spencer’s sure, wanting to get you back out of the elements as quickly as possible. 

He takes the steps first and holds out his hand a few beneath. Emily laughs, says, “He’s so chivalrous,” to Penelope’s delight. 

“He’s always been our gentleman,” Penelope says. 

You look eager to agree. “He’s my prince,” you tease gently, taking his hand, leaning just a little too far forward. 

Your foot slips out from underneath you with a sound like a knife scraping the snow. You fall hard and fast, and the horror is that your one leg trips more than the other and you end up slamming flat on your side. 

Spencer has you up again before the slush can so much as wet your clothes, but it doesn’t matter. Your eyes go wider than he’s ever seen them and your lips struggle down into an immediate frown, a wobbly expression, alarm in your voice as you say, “Oh, woah.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Penelope asks, she and Spencer rushing down to the bottom of the steps to meet you. 

“Sit her down, Spencer,” Emily says quickly, not scornful or anything but her concern turning her tone hard. 

“It’s wet,” he says, as his head bubbles up with horrible statistics. 

“Spencer,” you say tightly, “I’m fine.” 

You don’t look fine. He yanks his suit jacket off and drops it to the floor, a write off, he and Penelope encouraging you to sit on the bottom step. Your eyes are filled with tears, he suspects from panic and pain at once, and he doesn’t really know what to do in this situation for a second, he has to think back. It’s hard to think and hold your hands at the same time. 

“It’s okay,” he says, enthusing his voice with false pep. 

“What should we do?” Penelope asks, quicker to panic than the rest of you. 

Spencer bends down in front of you. You’re the only person that matters in that moment. “What hurts?” he asks, hand hovering over your side. “Does anything hurt?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, before shaking your head, “What about–” You cut yourself off. “Yeah.” 

Spencer takes your wrist. “I’m gonna call Dr. Cordell right now. Okay? Just as a precaution. That’s what you’re supposed to do, okay?” 

“I think I hurt my hip,” you say smally. 

With some help from the girls, Spencer gets you back to the hotel. He calls your doctor, and they decide to get you an emergency check up with an antenatal doctor he knows while you’re still out of state. It feels less panicky and more dread while you wait, but the appointment goes well, and you’re given the all clear a few hours after your fall. 

You’re uncharacteristically quiet at the hotel. Spencer asks if you’re alright and you say, “Of course,” while he spends the rest of the evening watching you wince. 

It’s getting ready for bed where he finally gets you to crack for him. You’re not expecting to be sore, that much is clear, and you’re bashful asking for his help. “I can’t get my shirt over my head,” you say from the bathroom, with no need to shout. He can hear you from his not so casual seat at the foot of the bed. 

He lost his tie a few hours ago, and his suit jacket lays soggy in a plastic bag on top of his suitcase. He rolls his sleeves up as he eases into the small bathroom, eyes dropping to the naked bump of your stomach where your shirt is pooled. You have a yellowy bruise taking form on your hip. Another on your bump, like the lines of the stone steps. 

“Angel,” he murmurs, fingers glancing over the bruise gently. 

“Doesn’t hurt.” 

“You don’t have to lie.” 

You poke him. “Help me get changed, handsome.” You laugh at your demanding. “Please help me get changed.” 

“So rude,” he says. 

He grabs the ends of your shirt and pulls it up your back and over the back of your head so as to not agitate your cut up elbow again. You sigh as he pulls it clean, leaving you shirtless and gorgeous in the bathroom, despite all your worrying. He should tell you. He can’t not tell you, really. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, taking your shoulders into his hands. 

“Even with the baby weight?” you ask. 

He rubs your arm. “You’ve never been this beautiful.” 

“Oh, no, don’t say that.” You cover his arm with yours, hand over his, fingers intertwining loosely. 

“You’re always…” He leans down. He’d been about to stop himself, but he continues, lips just an inch from yours, the two of you eye to eye. “Beautiful. I’m sorry about today, it was my fault.” 

“It was my fault.” 

“I should’ve been more careful, I knew it was cold enough for frost.” 

“I should’ve been more careful,” you say, frowning at him indignantly, “I know how fragile I am right now and I’m not being careful enough.” 

“You slipped,” he argues. It could only be an accident.

“What if she felt it?” you whisper. 

Spencer was trying to assuage your fears and he’d been planning on a kiss, but a hug feels more important in that moment, a careful loop of his arms under yours. His few inches of height over you are especially helpful in steering clear of your stomach. “She didn’t feel it, Y/N, I promise. You took the fall for her, and the doctor said everything is just fine. She didn’t even know it was happening, I swear.” 

You let out a long, slow breath. You nod into his should after a few moments. “Okay. Thank you for picking me back up, Spence.” 

“That was impressive, right?” 

You poke him some more as you let the entirety of your weight slouch into his front. “You’re quite impressive, Reid. I felt the muscle.” You kiss his neck, voice dropping to a murmur, “I’m okay.” He hasn’t realised how badly he needed reassurance too. 

“I know.” 

“Sorry if I was dramatic,” you say. 

“Dramatic?” he laughs, thumb on your neck drawing shapes. “You tried to tell me you were fine. That’s the opposite of dramatic.” 

“…Maybe I should slow down some. Maybe. Take some days off.” 

Spencer kisses the top of your head. “That could be nice. You’ve been bouncing around for months. We could just spend a couple of days laying down, right? You can try out some of those maternity pyjamas you’re so reluctant to wear.” 

“Why’d you buy so many?” 

“I’m trying to take care of you. I thought I’d finally be allowed,” he says. 

Your voice turns to a whisper. “You always take care of me, Spence. You really do.” 

[sanguineterrain]

tw kidnapped reader, reader is forced to be jason's companion/spouse. arranged marriage elements, i guess. knight au

jason todd is a soldier first. he's never been anything but.

he's the kingdom's best. the king is quite proud of his best soldier. his violent mercenary who's as loyal as they come. he's fantastic.

but he's been at war too long. the king knows this, and understands he must do something to help his best soldier adjust to life back home if he wants him to continue to fight. jason's a prized racehorse, but he gets skittish, moody. the nightmares don't help. what do you do to help a racehorse? you get it a goat to calm it down. so, the king gets his soldier a "goat" to soothe him: you.

you're perfect! you're perfect because you're just a commoner, in no way a threat to anyone, and completely ordinary. no one will miss you. but. but. jason met you once in town and lingers outside the bookshop you work at every time he comes home from battle. he never goes in. suddenly, you're no longer ordinary.

so months after jason's return, you're summoned by his majesty. you are the best match for his best soldier, he says, and that's that. they leave you in jason's cottage that's miles from the kingdom. you're given a tea that knocks you out cold, but that's just a precaution! there's no need to be afraid. the accompanying maid even pretties you up a bit, not that you need it.

and jason comes home to you, the lovely bookshop worker he's watched for forever. he promised himself he would be good; he wouldn't approach you and scare you with his awful scars or his growly voice. he knows soldiers are rough. he swore he'd only watch you for your safety, because you're so damn nice, too nice for this kingdom, and he doesn't want a flower like you to be crushed.

and what a flower you are, laying in his bed, beautiful and unmarred and sweet. you're in delicate nightwear, with a ribbon around your neck, like you're a present to unwrap. jason immediately feels sick. he can't do this. he can't keep you, be responsible for you. why would his king do this to you? to him?

he hovers over you for what feels like ages, watching your chest go up and down as you sleep. he's still in his armor, dirty from training. he should go bathe. he should sharpen his weapons. above all, he should not touch you.

and then you awaken. you take a deep breath and your eyes crack open. jason stumbles backward and nearly knocks over the nightstand. you watch him, confused and somewhat wary.

this hulking soldier almost falls over apologizing, cheeks flaming red. he hightails it out of his own room, and you don't see him for the rest of the night.

you fall asleep in his bed. in the morning, there's still no trace of him, save for a plate of crumbly bread and cheese and a mug of tea on the table nearby.

you wonder if you're a gift or a curse.

[ameliaenya404]

Promise?

"You're so soft," Shigaraki pokes at your cheek while you work.

He was clinger than usual. Of course he always seemed to be attached to your hip and insistent on dragging you along with him wherever he roamed. But every once in awhile he needed some time to himself, time to sit in his thoughts alone.

You respected it and he respected when you needed time to yourself, although he was always a little fussy about it. But now, for the last week, if was as if being separated from you would kill him. He'd been insectintly nagging on you every second of the day, petting you, holding you, poking at your soft skin.

"Tomura are you okay?" You ask softly, letting out a sigh as you relent from typing a report in favor of locking eyes with him. Although his eyes were always slightly coverd by his hair which was growing out. You made a mental note that he's due for a trim soon.

"I'm fine," he responded, his hand falling down onto your thigh.

"....You're never this...clingy. Are you sure you don't want a little, you time?" You ask hesitantly.

His personal time was usally spent with him consuming online content or gaming, and you tried not to interfere or interrupt, wanting him to have some cool off after particularly frustrating missions or plans for the league that went south.

His lack of taking time to himself was becoming slightly concerning and a tad bit disturbing.

"I'm fine I promise, just...a man can't want to spend a little time with his girl?" Tomura chuckled softly, his thumb softly brushing against the skin of your thigh.

He had his gloves on to avoid any, unfortunate events. It's not like you didn't trust him though, you knew he had a solid grasp on his quirk. It was simply a precaution he took for his own peace of mind. Sooth his paranoia.

The way he worded his sentence made your cheeks flush. His girl.

His girl.

Although you knew it was just fluff to avoid the topic at hand, he was good at dodging your questions.

"Tomura, cut it out. C'mon tell me what's up!" You urge, catching the smallest flicker of hesitance in his eyes. So he was hiding something.

"Promise you won't get freaked out?" He mumbled reluctently.

"Nothing you do or say is going to freak me out, I promise." You'd seen your fair share of his decays and the hands and...everything, to not be phased by most things he does.

You watch as he crawls off the bed, where both of you were sitting together, and goes into the closet. Rummaging around and moving things until he turns back around, a little box in his hand.

"I know it's super early but....I just...I know I can't marry you now, or in the foreseeable future. But I will one day. I promise." He said, popping the box open. A small ring secured safely in a royal blue cushion. The ring was small. Shiny and most likely stolen or acquired through outside connections such as Giren.

He got you a promise ring.

A shiny, perfect, promise ring.

"If it's too much I can always just return it or something-"

Before he can ramble on any more you swiftly silence him with a kiss. It was sweet once he relaxed into it, melting beneath your touch when you took the ring from his hands and set it aside, tangling your hands in his hair.

It was warm. Despite how cold Tomura always was, even now his cheeks are cold when you cup them with your hands when you pull back to lean your forehead against his.

"It's perfect and thoughtful and....thank you. I love it," you reassure him, smiling when he finally gives you a soft smile. Boyish excitement crossing his features. Something you and only you often saw, unlike the cold exterior he had around most others he had no intrest in conversing with.

"Can I put it on you?" The question is laced with hesitance but when you nod you can see him relax and he grabs the box, pulling the pretty ring out.

One of his hands grasps yours, lifting it up as he slides the ring on your finger. He kissed the back of your hand gently.

Something you thought him, when you first started dating. It was hard to get him so comfortable with you, comftable enough to be flirty, but it was worth the effort.

"Forever, yeah?" You giggle. A promise that couldn't be guaranteed, but a promise you'd make nonetheless.

"Forever." He nodded. You could see on his face he didint truly belive in forever either. But you still held each other's hands as you smiled stupidly at each other.

You'd find a way to make forever work.

[soshadysoquiet]

An attempt to salvage S4, for your delectation. S4E4

EPISODE 4

Flashback to Klaus: Chasing down his siblings right back at the beginning and nearly hit by a car he only dodges last moment, laughs it off but then we see a little collection of him unable to get back close to his siblings but Does find old haunt of Mothers of Agony. We see him oscillate between drugs and siblings in turn, some rehab and relapses and increasing near death experiences. Ben at height of his squid-covered brand in crypto currency pays for a fancy rehab for Klaus at siblings' pleas, though won't pay off his debt. Klaus exits it to try living with Luther but it's filthy compared to the safety and cleanliness of the rehab he'd finally felt secure in. Allison is the face of a cleaning company though - he goes to her. We see him both gain more of his control back, and become more controlling of his surroundings and person with precautions. He coops up and covers up and controls and it becomes gloves and layers and face masks where it used to be drugs.

Present time: Klaus has same chained-up then forced ghost prostitution run in that we see in the show, has his money taken from him. The ghosts in the room are judging him, he accuses them of their voyerism and that they could pay too for watching the show, tries to banish them but can’t. Frustrated and has an emotional outburst.

*Klaus' scene above is cut into with Ben and Jennifer arriving at the umbrella academy ruins, Falling into bed much more willingly than Klaus and his seance woman. Waking up close and calm and sharing some affectionate words.

Allison and Luther arrive to find Claire shaken up at home and chat to her, she thinks she knows where Klaus is. They go off and Claire chats to Luther about how Space Boy was her fave, but he's not an astronaut now is he, what changed? Luther starts to say he's a stripper but tones it down at a cough from Allison. Luther tries to say some stuff about his life but it's a bit sad to hear. Claire is shooting her mother awkward looks, Allison asks 'but are you happy?' Luther thinks about it, there's bits he likes, he likes being good at the job, now, he takes pride from his work, but it wasn't the life he had thought he was going to have. Allison asks if he's really sure she's not here, Luther can't bring himself to respond.

Klaus hasn't taken the drugs yet, he's looking at them, debating them, scratching over his skin when he brushes the dog tags he lifted from Abigail's box. He remembers Dave. Murmurs how it shouldn't work, the timelines are different and anyway he hated me in the 60's, it's a bad idea. One of the ghosts croaks out 'worse than this' and Klaus succeeds in banishing them. He focuses, trying to move past the sound of war and screaming and in his head his little pre-recorded mantra plays for himself of how he's strong etc. He opens his mouth and calls for Dave. Before Klaus he appears, we see their eyes widening in joy

Five Diego and Lila arrive at Reggie's mansion finding Reggie, Abigail and Viktor outside cursing at the van being gone, Reggie is berating Viktor, Abigail begins snapping at Reggie and the three arrivals are confused. Lila says that's so and so from the Keepers meetings, Diego says I've found her picture taped up in the houses of people who get the inside-out umbrella packages, and Five is about ready to fight demanding who she is

Reggie steps in front of her and says 'that's my wife' which shuts them all up.

Klaus and Dave have a reunion, it's heartfelt. the mothers of agony dude busts into the room, says what the hell is this on seeing Dave and Klaus says, 'help me out for a second babe' and has Dave beat the guy into a bloody pulp. A few ghosts from the corridor cheer and Dave says 'wow, we've got some catching up to do' or something, Klaus is over the moon, takes the money he earned but leaves the drugs. They walk out together, Dave corporeal.

Allison and Luther pull up outside and start to talk strategy which largely consists of Allison 'They've pissed me off who needs strategy' and Luther trying to calm her down and both trying to stop Claire from following them. 

Klaus comes out and they and Dave have an awkward intro but sort-of reunion. Klaus says I guess I was my own saviour this time, Allison says I guess you were, I'm proud of you. Klaus brushes it off goofily but Luther agrees so proud and yanks all of them and Claire into a group hug, apologises as Klaus wriggles out saying he'll get there, but baby steps. Looks to Dave and Dave smiles as he vanishes from being corporeal, the others looking to see where he's gone, but Klaus and him are still smiling at each other.

You have a wife? (they've moved inside) Reggie explains that their world was destroyed and he preserved her on the moon, tries to move it back to their childish selfish problems letting things go to pot again, Viktor accuses him of 'oh but it's alright if it's your selfish desires?' And Diego chimes in with 'yeah you know if you think about it, all the apocalypses were kinda your fault Dad.' Viktor and Diego go at him for a while and Five has found something to drink, Lila and Abigail are watching the various issues until Five Snaps that they need to talk about Ben, where are the others?

Allison, Luther and Klaus turn up to the rest of them squabbling, Diego is saying 'it's just that, I don't know!' Viktor is arguing 'How can you not know?!' they come in saying 'what's going on?' and Five asks them to tell him how Ben died, the three of them repeat 'tragic accident, failed as a team, no one and everyone's fault, Ben was the best of us' and give each other a heebie-jeebies look when they can't remember anything else.

'Can't, or won't' says Reggie, unhelpfully. They all discuss needing to get to the bottom of this, that Ben's death has turned up in Keepers files related to The Cleanse, but the details are redacted and there are too many different dates that it happens. They're based on either memory bleed through or articles and artefacts passed through the timeline.

They debate how they're going to remember, if they even can. Lila pipes up with that she knows a thing or two about altered memories around Trauma (Handler being the one turning up just as her parents are shot etc) the commission's Infinite Switchboard was able to show her. Reggie debates that there might be a way to harness their powers to bring back the memories, after Abigail baits him into it and he's scowled a lot.

They set up in a quiet room, Reggie hooks them up to each other and monitors, explains that their powers should 'rhyme' at the right frequencies. They go through a lot of repetitions of trying to 'engage' their powers at the same level. Lila and Five are trying to direct them when it's not working, Reggie says they need to be in the loop too, it's all the marigolds harmonising that will put them in a meditative state, and he can guide from there. Five and Lila don't want to have their brains meddled with, but Abigail is giving Viktor a look, takes the time to talk to all of them about something that she's heard about them from Reggie that encourages them somewhat, and specifically to Viktor that it will take all of them to save the world. Five and Lila begrudgingly give in when Viktor reasons with them.

Five and Lila find it easiest to sync up powers (the machine gives a green light for each of them at the right sync), Five maintains whilst Lila keeps her frequency but morphs to Diego's power, he can feel the trajectories she's mimicking and copies that, Viktor tunes in to the pitch of Five's powers on his own and Allison changes her voice sill she's hitting the green with a hum. Klaus is feeling the energy in the room and links up, able to get a sense of the others' souls and syncs in and Luther is getting assisted along by Lila - matching the pressure from holding her hand till they all go green and the chime through the room sends them all slack and drifting. Reggie's voice guides them back through time. 

[rewrittenmha]

Battle Trials Arc

The start of this arc mostly goes the same. They try on their hero outfits and get ready for their first Heroics class with All Might. Of course, Inko made Izuku his suit (it's so ugly but she made it with love I had to leave it in). I'm keeping their suits the same in canon for now but rest assured, most of them will be getting major upgrades later. All Might announces the Battle Trials and teams are assigned.

First thing's first, I'm changing some of the teams.

Team A: Midoriya & Yaoyorozu - Hero Team B: Mineta & Todoroki - Hero Team C: Hagakure & Uraraka - Villain Team I: Ojiro & Shoji - Villain

Everyone else is staying the same! Hagakure and Uraraka are fighting Kaminari and Jiro and Izuku and Yaoyorozu are fighting Bakugou and Iida. Mineta and Todoroki are fighting Ojiro and Shoji. Look up the rest of the teams if you can't remember them because I'm too lazy to write them out.

Round 1: Team A vs Team D

Izuku is anxious for two reasons: one, he's fighting Bakugou and two, Yaoyorozu is intimidating as hell. He has no idea how to even approach working with her

Izuku suggests using himself as bait. Yaoyorozu isn't opposed to it, but she knows a) Izuku's quirk isn't fully functional, b) Bakugou has a bad temper with an explosive quirk, and c) Bakugou has some sort of weird vendetta against Izuku

The two get into a little bit of an argument. Izuku wants to face Bakugou head-on, but Yaoyorozu isn't interested in indulging what she interprets as a petty rivalry especially if the outcome is dangerous. But they're running out of time and they need to make a decision

There's a small heart to heart. Izuku briefly explains his past with Bakugou (he doesn't go into detail, but it's enough for Yaoyorozu- a virtual stranger- to be a little concerned). Yaoyorozu understands having to prove yourself- she's had to do it since she was a kid- so it makes her a little more receptive to his insistence

Yaoyorozu explains her quirk to Izuku (who's taking mental notes) and they come up with a plan. Izuku will use himself as bait, but with precaution. Yaoyorozu created little speakers with her quirk that she places around the building as she goes to secure the bomb from Iida. Those speakers are attached to a little microphone Izuku will be using to taunt Bakugou and lure him as far away from the bomb as possible. He'll have Bakugou cornered and attack him from behind while Yaoyorozu confronts Iida

The fight between Bakugou and Izuku goes about the same as it does in canon (so does their conversation). However, because of Yaoyorozu's fear of damage and injury, Izuku doesn't use Bakugou to blow up the ceiling. Instead, he continuously dodges Bakugou's attacks until Bakugou- careless of his surroundings- ends up destroying the surrounding wall so much that dust clouds his vision and Izuku punches him in the face. It's momentarily stunning, but it's not enough to stop Bakugou who's pissed. He's about to advance on Izuku again when-

All Might's voice announces that Team A wins. While Bakugou was fighting Izuku, Yaoyorozu confronted Iida with a staff. They began fighting and Iida was overpowering her, however, it was just a distraction. Momo dropped smoke bombs once she was close enough to the bomb, successfully securing it before Iida could recover. Izuku and Yaoyorozu win with a near flawless victory, minus Izuku's injuries

Bakugou is pissed. He's never lost before, least of all to Deku. He's going to make that nerd pay for looking down on him like he did

Iida is disappointed in himself. If he had paid more attention, he might have seen through Yaoyorozu's ruse

Round 2: Team B vs Team I

Todoroki goes into the fight overconfident. He tells Mineta go outside for his safety as he intends to dominate the fight

However, what he wasn't aware of was that Shoji heard him say this. With the knowledge that it was a two on one match, him and Ojiro devise a plan

Ojiro goes down to confront Todoroki immediately, who instantly freezes him in place. He yells to "Shoji" in the next corridor to run before the ice can catch him too. Todoroki spreads his ice in the direction that Ojiro yelled out

But Shoji wasn't there. He was with the bomb, guarding it while Shoto spent five minutes trying to find where Ojiro was. When he couldn't, he spread the ice to the entire building and entrapped him, just like he did in canon. He then easily secures the bomb

Team B won, but Todoroki is stunned that he was momentarily outsmarted. Still, his show of power took everyone by surprise, especially Bakugou who had never seen the raw power from anyone his age before

Round 3: Team C vs Team G

Uraraka and Hagakure are woefully unprepared for Kaminari and Jirou. Their plan is simple; Uraraka stays and guards the bomb while Hagakure goes and sneaks up on their opponents

It almost works. Hagakure is easily able to take out Jirou, but cannot dodge a blow from Kaminari. He takes her out with no issues and goes to confront Uraraka

Uraraka, who has almost no combat experience, loses almost immediately. Kaminari has so much more power than her he's almost taunting her. In an act of desperation, she floats the bomb and herself to the ceiling where Kaminari can't reach them. Kaminari can't reach the bomb. She keeps them both near the vents, so he has no chance of jumping up and securing either her or the bomb. He knocks her down with a shot at the last minute

Time runs out. Team C wins, just barely. It doesn't feel like a win for Uraraka, though. She was completely outmatched against Kaminari and only won because of the time. After seeing how powerful her classmates are, she feels like she's majorly behind. She doesn't want to be left behind. She thinks a lot about Izuku's fight, how he predicted Bakugou's attacks and used them against him.

(I'm not doing the rest because I'm focusing on main characters and what's changing for those characters. Izuku, Yaoyorozu, Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki, and Asui will be the characters focused on the most. I didn't describe Asui's battle because she really shows out at the USJ. I'd like to give all of 1A justice because they do deserve better, but I can't balance 20 characters at once. Forgive me if a lot of them fade into the background)

After he comes back from Recovery Girl, Izuku's classmates praise him like they did in canon. They tell him that his actions really inspired them. He is extremely embarrassed by it and bashfully points out that it was Yaoyorozu's plan that got him the win. Yaoyorozu is surprised, but pleased by this. Uraraka comes in and compliments him on what he did, as she's also very inspired. He thanks her, but asks where Bakugou is.

Izuku runs out to stop Bakugou before he can leave. He feels unbelievably guilty, but he doesn't know why. The fact that Bakugou seemed to upset gnaws at him, like he did something terrible by not telling him about OFA.

But another part of him doesn't understand that. It's not like he always had OFA and was intentionally hiding it. And even if he was, why would Bakugou even care? He made it quite clear a long time ago that they weren't friends so why-

Izuku, feeling guilty, is about to reveal his secret. He's about to tell Bakugou that he inherited his quirk. He almost says it.

1A watches from the window. Asui, Ashido, and Uraraka look on in concern, worried that Bakugou will lash out. But Iida and Yaoyorozu watch carefully from their seats out of the corner of their eyes; Iida because he's ready to intervene if things get violent, but Yaoyorozu for a completely different reason.

But All Might comes out seemingly out of nowhere. He's ecstatic to see them, complimenting them both of their performance. He gentle critiques them, but stresses their heroic attributes. Bakugou, angry and humiliated by his failure, tells him off and proclaims that he'll surpass him. He stomps off, leaving Izuku and All Might alone.

Izuku guiltily admits that he almost gave away the secret and apologizes. All Might flails for a moment, but composes himself and assures him that he understands. There were moments he wanted to tell friends to (specifically talking about David Shield), but had to refrain for their safety and his own. He stresses that Izuku cannot tell anyone he doesn't trust 100%, who he knows will have his back in his toughest moments.

Izuku takes this to heart.

But unknown to him, All Might's timing wasn't random. Toshinori had been surprised when Yaoyorozu came to him with her concerns. She had admitted that Izuku didn't outright confess anything actually wrong, but was insistent that Bakugou's actions during the Battle Trials shouldn't be taken lightly.

Toshinori decides to keep a more careful eye on how Bakugou and Izuku interact.

Notes:

Rewatching season 1 hits different. The characterization was so much better. Unpopular opinion, but season 1 Bakugou is a lot less annoying to me. One thing he did was reflect and actually own up to what he did wrong and took accountability for the loss, which s3-current Bakugou just... doesn't do. This feels so fucking bizarre to say, but I can actually sympathize with him a little bit more (just a tiny bit). He's still a violent POS who whines a lot, but he's not as irritating

You can really see early on how much 1A prefers Izuku over Bakugou. And how could they not? Bakugou was immediately mean to them and Izuku "stood up" to him. Of course they admired him. Horikoshi should have kept this going

Momo is going to be a bit different. Still kind and compassionate, but more reserved and logical like she was in the early arcs. Her relationship with Izuku will be... interesting. They're low-key rivals too, but more in a "they're both so smart but two completely different kinds of smart so they butt heads" way. They also become best frenemies because I said so

Speaking of Momo, her going to All Might was her being a good chap. I can see early Momo being completely uncomfortable with Bakugou's behavior and concerned with him potentially hurting Izuku or anyone else (she unknowingly just saved Izuku's character arc, all hail Queen Momo). Horikoshi made her so docile against Bakugou when early Momo was completely unapologetic in her dressing down of him

Todoroki's round wasn't meant to disparage his power or skill. It was to a) show off Shoji a little more because his quirk is underrated and b) to show that even though he's hella powerful, he isn't perfect and has weaknesses. I also did this to show that UA is supposed to be the best hero school in the world. The majority of its students are going to be at least competent. The ones at the "bottom" right now are Jiro, Aoyama, Hagakure, Mineta, and Uraraka (no particular order)

Uraraka's underdog story is something I'm very excited to write

[bihanspookies]

BESTIE I GOTTA KNOW: how would jin, steve, and hwoarang cater to their partner when they’re sick?

The first Steve fic 🫶

I GOTCHU BESTIE

Jin:

• I think Jin would be the most cautious in terms of making sure you keep your germs to yourself, because he has a weak immune system. Like he’ll wear a mask around you, disinfect whatever you touch, be on top of you taking your medicine and vitamins.

• Will make homemade soup, probably a recipe Jun used to make when he was younger and whenever he got sick.

• He’s not overbearing but he will check on you here and there to make sure you’re okay and if you need anything.

• Don’t even bother trying to ask for a kiss because he will not give in. No matter how much he misses the feel of your lips on his.

• Probably sleeps on the couch too.

“Jin come on, I’m just dealing with the cough now. Surely you can give me just one kiss—“

“No. Now take your medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning and downing the last of your soup before taking the small plastic cup from his hand. You grimaced, the dark red liquid swirling around before you down it. You make a small sound of disgust as it glides down your throat before handing it back to him along with your bowl of soup.

Jin gives a hum of appreciation, taking the bowl and cup before walking away and returning a few moments later.

He stands at the side of your bed, mask still in place.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” You shake your head but hesitantly reach out to clutch onto the bottom of his shirt.

“A kiss? Please.”

Jin sighs, but you can see the way the corners of his eyes faintly crinkle in. He leans down and kisses your temple through the mask, the warmth of his lips just barely seeping through the material and onto your skin.

“Get some rest.”

Bonus but I think if Jin were the sick one he would be way less cautious lmao. Insisting that he’s fine and just needs to work it off.

Steve:

• I don’t think he would take the same level of precaution as Jin but he would still do his best to properly take care of you. Like he’ll sleep in the same bed as you after one or two days into you being sick.

• Will buy you soup instead of making it. It’s not that he can’t cook but he’s just used to making really healthy meals for himself and he knows you need more than just boiled chicken with some broth. He’ll make sure to get the most hearty soup and even have a bowl with you while you sit and watch tv.

• Will make sure you get rest but also I feel like he’d tell you you probably have to sweat it out so he may or may not have you do a mini workout with him.

• 100% massages your achy body, probably uses some really good scented lotion as well.

• He’ll kiss your head but honestly I think if you beg hard enough, he might just give in and give you a quick peck on the lips. I think he’d have a really good immune system.

“Lovely day outside, maybe we can go for a walk?” Steve spoon feeds you the last little bits of your soup, a small smile on his lips as he sees the way you light up.

“Yeah?”

He nods, handing you a napkin for your mouth.

“Some fresh air will do you some good, love. Been too cooped up in here.”

You nod in agreement, taking a moment to sip your water. You finish the last of your soup and he places it on the side before bringing a hand to your forehead. He hums softly in thought, flipping his hand over to make sure you’re okay to step out.

“S’bit chilly, so let’s bring a jacket just in case okay?”

You give him a smile of appreciation and he returns it, standing up and kissing the top of your head. He goes to your closet to grab a jacket for you, unzipping it and laying it across your bed when he goes back.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” You hum, taking the covers off and shifting your legs over the side of the bed. Steve grins at you, extending a hand to help you up.

“Always, sweetheart.”

Hwoarang:

• Clowns you for getting sick in the first place. He told you not to run out in the rain but did you listen? Of course not.

• He’ll take good care of you but not without teasing you in the beginning.

• Cooks for you, brings you tea, pulls out the heated blanket, loads of tissues. He’ll give you the perfect treatment but at the cost of being made fun of (lovingly of course).

• He’ll sleep in the same bed but with a pillow barrier between you two.

• Absolutely refuses to kiss you, gives you air kisses instead. His immune system isn’t weak but isn’t particularly strong either. He’s right in between Steve and Jin.

“Here’s a rag for your snot. So you stop using tissues.”

Hwoarang tosses you a black rag, you catching it with ease. Just in time because you felt a sneeze coming on and held the rag up to your nose. Hwoarang gives you a small pitiful look, walking up to you and touching your forehead.

“How you feeling?” You sniff, barely able to get air through your nostrils.

“Shitty. Can you make me soup?”

He nods, looking over your body and taking in your disheveled state.

“Next time listen to me when I say don’t go out in the rain.” He lightly flicks at your forehead, rubbing over the spot with his fingertips right after. You groan and roll your eyes, flopping back onto the bed as he walks away to start your soup.

“Next time don’t go out in the rain.” You mock under your breath, searching for the t.v remote.

“I heard that!!”

[captain039]

Craving the wild side (Sam Winchester)

Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings: AOB, medical things, mental health issues, abuse, light swearing, Angst, hurt/comfort, violence

Huzzah I write something without finishing my other stories 🙃

Case file No.2864

Name: Samual Winchester

D.O.B 2/3/1983

Age: 41

Background:

Sam Winchester (Feral alpha) found, then captured by our special team delta on the 1st of February 2024, Alpha was found at the fighting dens known as ‘Knocked Out Alphas’ in an underground base lead by omega leader Henry While. Alpha assaulted three officers in his feral state after the fighting pit door was left opened in the shootout. The feral alpha made a run for it before officer John Dennis tranquillised him and brought him to head facility 202. Alpha Sam Winchester has been here a total 5 months with little progression. Former head doctor Grace Peggy has been sent on maternity leave and this case now is being handed over to you.

Please see attached files regarding this case.

Your computer dings in notification at the files sent your way after your email from head office. You brief over them, before replying and log out before heading to lunch. Jimmy meets you there with a smile on his face as you both order a meal and sit down.

“So, I hear you’re on a new case?” Jimmy asks spooning some rice into his mouth.

“Yep, Sam Winchester case since Grace on leave” you answer taking a bit of your own food.

“She and her mate must be excited” Jimmy says and you grimace internally, the thought of a child, a human growing inside of you not comforting or exciting.

“If I could I’d do it for the paid leave” Jimmy says and you raise an eyebrow at the man.

“Uh huh” you say as he just shrugs with a small grin making you shake your head, he was strange sometimes.

“Should be a pretty easy case hopefully, though he’s been here 5 months, he has family, thankfully, hasn’t had any feral outbursts, things like that, he’s just quiet according to Graces notes” you say with a small shrug and sigh.

“You’ll get through to him” Jimmy comforts and you nod giving him a small smile.

After your weekend and more reading over Sam’s case you finally head into work Monday morning ready to meet the man. Though you really did hate the meeting through glass thing it was precaution, but they were human too, not some caged up animal, no matter their past life. You greet the guard outside his door and he lets you in with a nod of his head. You head inside and sit down before turning off the privacy screen. You look to room, clean, a little too clean, the beds made, actually doesn’t look like it’s been slept in for a while, the desk, chair are neat, the desk contents are neat some papers, crayons, the single couch seat and small pillows on it are neat and placed perfectly and the alpha in the middle of the room is sitting with his spine straight, clothes cleaned and unwrinkled, hair cleaned and fresh. You think he’s meditating and hesitate to say anything till he’s finished. So you wait for about ten minutes before he stands to his full height, geez the alphas a sky scrapper. You shake your head briefly focusing on him as he stretches his arms above his head before he turns around and jolts. His whole body tenses and you curse yourself silently, you hadn’t been watching him the whole time you’d been on your tablet.

“Greetings Sam, my names Doctor Y/l/n” you introduce yourself.

“Sorry for startling you, I thought you were meditating and didn’t want to interrupt!” You say trying to justify sitting here for ten minutes without a word, poor man. He nods his head a small frown on his face before he goes over to his desk and sits down. He picks up a black crayon and begins writing, ignoring your presence.

“Doctor Grace Peggy has gone on leave as I’m sure you’re aware, I’ll be your new doctor till she comes back” he doesn’t turn to you, or acknowledge you’ve spoken and you hesitate. He just keeps writing, back overly straight, like he needed to be any taller.

“How’s your day been Sam?” You ask trying to get him to communicate with you, but he just ignores you.

“Well it was nice meeting with you, I’ll be back around 3 to catch up some more ok?” You say but still get nothing. You turn on the privacy screen and stare down at your tablet with a frown, Grace did mention he didn’t speak or make eye contact, you assumed he’d respond some way and not straight out ignore you. Every case was different you guess.

You head back to your office write down somethings about your first meeting wondering how you should go about this. It will be difficult if he continues ignoring you, hopefully he was just having a quiet morning.

He was not having a quiet morning, he was having a quiet week. He didn’t acknowledge you once even when you greeted him first, he didn’t startle, didn’t glance or look to you at all even when you’d wait for him to finish his meditating. You tried to speak to other doctors about what could help, but they didn’t say much, then again it was probably some weird you weren’t old enough to be a doctor thing or wouldn’t understand it as some older generation doctors have told you. It was a Monday morning when you walked in again, he was meditating once more and you decided to head inside his room. The guard gave you the all clear and the door opened for you to step in. You greeted him quietly as you watched the door close before looking to him. You didn’t expect him to have his eyes staring at you wide with his jaw tense.

“Sorry for coming in suddenly I did say though” you tell him as you hold your tablet close. You watch his nose flare as he breathes deeply watching a frown crease his brow. You frown slightly also thinking back to this morning when you put deodorant on, did you smell? You try to subtly sniff yourself and fail when you catch nothing but muted alpha smell and muted omega smell. It was a requirement in the faculty for all in the faculty to use a scent blocker. Maybe he didn’t like the smell of muted omega, seeing as he’d been around them most his life, on the other hand you feel as if he should be thankful for no over powering omega smell, you know you would be.

“May I sit with you?” You ask gesturing beside him and he gives one curt nod. You find relief in that and go over to his desk.

“Can I put my tablet here?” You ask looking back to him but he’s closed his eyes and put his head forward. You shrug to yourself laying it neatly as you can before going to sit in front of him. He doesn’t open his eyes or acknowledge you as you sit a meter away from him on the uncomfortable cold floor. You cross your legs the best you can, straighten your back and let out a small sigh as you close your eyes.

There’s no noise, beside your soft breathing and his, perfect silence. You think to your apartment, you didn’t make your bed this morning, then again you didn’t go to bed till four in the morning. You should also vacuum your house, the place was dirty from you being busy all the damn time, hell you swear Cobalt complains every time his little paws walk over the floor. Hm, you could go with some Cobalt cuddles, nice fluffy grey fur through your fingers, his purring in your ear, warmth in your lap. You smile at the thought, peeking an eye open seeing Sam perfectly still, his breathing is slow and steady. You close your eyes again wondering what he’s thinking about, does he go through memories, to loved ones or is it blissed silence that you find hard to get in your mind. You’re jealous for two seconds at that thought till you hear him move. He sits up and you follow suit less gracefully as he lifts his hands above his head and stretches out his body. You do the same hearing your arm crack and wince at the noise. Sam glances at you briefly, eyebrow slightly raised before he goes over to his desk. You follow him to remove your tablet before he sits down and begins to write. You smile to yourself and head to the door before it opens and you step out, you call that progress.

Another week passes, you find out when Sam starts meditating and head in just before he sits on the floor to sit with him. You both sit there for thirty minutes though you find it increasingly hard to focus and sit still while the alpha in front of you sits like a rock unmoved and sturdy. You wonder how he does it honestly. Then he gets up, stretches, your bones stop cracking after a few days thankfully, then he goes to his desk and writes. You’re going to ask him if you can bring a second desk in, so you can sit and write with him also. You’re on the way to his room but there are a few guards out the front, a red light above his door. You head into the privacy screen area and flick it off. You gasp at the sight, the chairs are turned over, the table is broken his crayons and papers are everywhere, his bed is messy and bloodied, the wall is also bloodied where he keeps punching it. You can’t hear the other doctors or guards as you raise your voice.

“Let me in!” You say to one of the guards. The older doctor tries to stop you but you’re already opening the door and stepping in. You shudder at the change in the air, god. He keeps punching the wall despite his bloodied knuckles, despite the sweat on his body. How long has he been doing this? Surely they would’ve tranquillised him.

“Sam” you call but he doesn’t stop.

“Samual” you try stepping a little closer. His jaw is so tight you fear he’ll break his teeth if he doesn’t relax his jaw.

“Sam?” You try again going into his space. You rest a hand on his arm and he swings around fist just by your face before something passes over in his eyes. He recoils, looks around the room in a panicked state, he begins to shake as he backs against the wall and slides down.

“Sam, Sam it’s ok, we can fix all these things and have them replaced ok?” You say as a few guards come in.

“Take the desk and chairs out if you can” you say to them and they nod grabbing the broken desk and taking it out. As they do that you sit in front of the alpha who’s gripping his hair tightly and breathing heavily.

“Sam” you say softly and his eyes dart to yours.

“What happened?” You ask relaxing your body so you don’t appear tense or let him see how fast your hearts beating. His mouth opens and closes as you added his hand, it looks horrible and requires medical attention.

“Your hands look pretty bad, we’re going to need a medical personnel in here to treat them, is that ok?” He nods quickly and you sigh in relief looking to the privacy screen as one of the doctor nods and gets on the phone before you look back at Sam.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You ask as he watches the guards take the couch seat out.

“I-“ he says and your heart leaps at the single letter.

“Memory’s” he mutters and you nod understanding.

“To your past?” You ask and he nods as the medical member walks in.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Philips, is it alright if I take a look at those hands?” The medical doctor walks in and you shuffle a little out the way ready to stand when Sam’s hand reaches out and holds your wrist. Those in the room tense as you stare at his large hand around your wrist. He breathes heavily eyes wide in panic and you settle by him more out the way so the doctor can help.

“It’s alright, I was just moving out the way” you say letting him hold your wrist before the Philip comes over. Sam nods eyes darting between you and Doctor Philip’s before focusing on Doctor Philip’s solely as he begins cleaning his free hand. Sam holds your wrist the whole time his right hand gets cleaned, tensing sometimes when things hurt or when the numbing needle went in. You’re thankful for the mobile doctor package the medical team receives here.

“I’ll need your other hand now” Doctor Philips says as he finish bandaging Sam’s right one. Sam looks to you and you smile at him and he lets go of your wrist hesitantly before giving it to the doctor. You let out a small breath looking to your lap as you try to settle your heart and ignore the tingling in your arm.

Next part ->

[silverynight]

By blood

<---Previous

Part XVII

If he's being honest, Tanjirou is a little bit nervous now; what his hashira proposed seems like a dream come true for him and that's why part of him thinks it won't be possible to achieve.

Sure, his Pillars will be willing to live with him and Akaza in that old, cozy house, but Tanjirou hasn't told that to the upper moon yet.

The next time he goes to pay him a visit, Tomioka is the one keeping him company. Akaza arrives at night as usual and pulls Tanjirou into his arms like he hasn't seen him in years.

Feeling his distress, Tanjirou does the best he can to comfort him and kisses him on the lips and all over the face. It works. A couple of seconds later, he feels him relaxing into his arms.

Akaza even acknowledges Tomioka's presence by quickly nodding at him. This time, Tanjirou notices that he doesn't get mad or irritated at him.

Cradling Akaza's face in his hands, Tanjirou stares at him with a fond smile on his face that makes the upper moon melt in seconds. He can't help but grin back at Tanjirou.

"Akaza... what would you say if the Pillars, Nezuko and I moved in here? Would it be okay?" Tanjirou asks, feeling slightly nervous out of the sudden.

He grimaces at first and Tanjirou feels a wave of sadness all over his body; it's alright, they can keep things like this. He doesn't mind traveling to that point...

"Would that make you happy?"

Tanjirou can't lie; he's not good at it and doesn't even like it either.

"Yes," he blurts out. "But I want all of us to reach an agreement in which we all can enjoy–"

"It's alright," Akaza pulls Tanjirou into his arms, cutting him off. "As long as you're happy and you stay with me, I can't ask for more."

Tanjirou really tries not to, but the tears escape from his eyes. Akaza kisses them away.

Tomioka clears his throat and takes a step closer to them.

"We'll have to secure this house and have a meeting first with all the hashira and you. We need to make sure you won't be betraying us in the near–"

"He would nev–"

"It's okay, Tanjirou," Akaza cuts him off again. "I understand his concern. And we should take all the precautions we need; I'd stay under the sunlight until I'm nothing but ashes if something ever happened to you because of me."

Tomioka nods in approval and they don't talk about it until it's time for Tanjirou to go back to the butterfly estate.

"This time you should come with us."

Even after they have the meeting and they reach an agreement, they can't move in right away. Lady Tamayo and Kocho keep trying to develop a cure and something that can cut a demon's connection to Muzan.

They know Muzan can't see into Nezuko's head, otherwise the other upper moons would've attacked her and Tanjirou a while ago. However, it seems that Tanjirou's blood has helped break Akaza's connection to him as well.

Kocho now takes a little bit of Tanjirou's blood too and comes up with a type of medicine that she gives to Akaza every now and then in order to sever the connection completely.

The others start changing the house a bit; it needs a lot more rooms and all kinds of protection outside.

Tanjirou can tell they all are nervous about it, but excited about this big step, even Akaza, who was a little bit reluctant in the beginning, is really happy now.

Ubuyashiki already had an idea about what they were going to do, but they tell him the details anyway and he even comes up with a better plan to keep the location completely hidden. Tanjirou thought at first he'd get mad at the idea of the Pillars and him living with an upper moon, but after meeting Akaza, he tells Tanjirou that he has a good feeling about this.

"What's the first thing we'll do in our house?" Tanjirou asks them, trying not to tear up again; everything is going so well.

"We want to get married!" Rengoku can't help but blurt out, looking so happy not even Kocho's glare can't erase the smile on his face.

"We were going to propose first!"

"It's okay," Tanjirou assures them; he can feel the smile on his face getting wider within each second. "This is perfect!"

"I want to marry you too," Akaza says then, looking a little bit nervous out of the sudden. He starts rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to even glance at the Pillars and instead focusing on Tanjirou completely.

He probably thinks they're going to protest, but Tanjirou knows them better than Akaza does; even if they do it just for Tanjirou, they have already accepted Akaza into their lives as well.

"Let's get married then!"

After a couple of weeks of moving in, they get married; it's a small celebration, but even the Ubuyashiki family attends.

Tanjirou makes flower crowns for all his spouses and kisses each of them on the lips; he manages not to cry right away. However, he bursts into tears the moment he notices Akaza tearing up.

Himejima carries him over his shoulder for a while, Kanroji sobs into his shoulder when they kneel around the table to eat and Obanai takes his bandages off, only to kiss him on the lips and smile back at him.

Tokito doesn't stay away from him for too long, but he does share him with the others. He demands kisses every now and then. Kocho is different, she doesn't say what she wants, but Tanjirou knows anyway so he cuddles with her for a while as everyone gathers in the backyard to look as the sun disappears in the horizon.

Rengoku can't stop calling Tanjiro his husband; he seems to like that word a lot, and Tomioka, much to everyone's surprise, keeps smiling the whole time.

"Well, I'm grateful that you decided to attend, but now it's time for you to go because I... well, we'd like to fuck our husband now!" Uzui says out loud, prompting Tanjirou to choke on his tea and turn bright red in seconds.

Shinazugawa smirks at that as he encourages the guests to leave (there are a couple of kakushi who can take them back to the butterfly estate).

Aoi decides to take Nezuko with her for a while and Tanjirou is really grateful for that.

The wedding night turns into a whole day because Tanjirou has a lot of spouses now and he needs to rest and eat after he sleeps with a couple of them.

Akaza seems to have gotten used to the idea of sharing, mostly because Tanjirou is also officially his now.

After hours of "getting to know" their spouses better, the Pillars make even more food while Tanjirou sleeps in his room.

Himejima wakes him up with a kiss on his shoulder and the sunlight makes Tanjirou notice all the marks and bites all over his own body; he blushes again, puts a robe on and meets everyone in one of the dark rooms, so Akaza can be there too.

They light up candles and eat as the upper moon cuddles next to Tanjirou and rests his head on the redhead's lap because he's the only one who doesn't need food.

Tanjirou knows their problems are far from over; they still have to defeat Muzan and find a cure for Akaza and Nezuko, but at least they'll do it together now. He doesn't have to hide anything from the ones he loves and can spend time with all of them at once.

It's everything he's ever wanted.

***

Thank you so much for reading this until the end and being patient with me. It means a lot!

This story is over, but that means I can also focus on new projects I have in mind. Hope you enjoy the new ones too! 😊🩵

[museofreverie]

Chapter 03 ⋆ Some Words of Wisdom

WAYS OF FREEDOM┊Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Modern Fem!Reader ┊2nd POV

In which a chronically online Gen Z that went through the pandemic goes to the Attack on Titan Universe and tries her very best to change the ending with an "I can fix him" mentality.

⋆ CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 2.3k words

⋆ WARNINGS: manga spoilers

⬅ prev chapter ┊ next chapter ➡

𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏.

THE CONVERSATION YOU had with your mother reverberated through your mind as you trudged back inside your room. A whirlwind of emotions surged through you, as you tried to make sense of the words she had said.

          An unrelenting tightness filled your chest that seemed not to falter. How could she forget? Was she really that uninformed? How could she be seemingly unaware of the chaos and turmoil that was occurring worldwide, when even your family were victims of the pandemic too? The main reason you loathed going out of your room every time she was around and not busy with work, was because of this. In fear of having the need to face her and start a conversation that won't even last long. Sadly, this was your current relationship with your mother. Painfully awkward and always one-sided.

          Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you thought of all the times she had tried to control your life. Why couldn't she trust you to make your own decisions and grow at your own pace? You almost expected her to shout in disapproval at your attempt to 'talk back' to her, but instead, she seemed to understand what you had said. It made you infuriated that she still had such a tight hold over you, even after all this time.

          The intensity of what you were feeling right now made you feel as though someone had repeatedly wrenched your heart. Of course, it's wrong to go outside when people are dying due to the pandemic. The only rational thing to do was to take safety precautions as you had vowed to yourself to never be the kind of person who carelessly disregards the severity of the pandemic and endangers other people's lives with one's ignorance.

          Or to put it simply—never be a Karen.

          As you returned to your table to place your belongings, you gazed around your room.

          It was like a whole other world of its own. Posters of anime characters, manga comics, your favorite actors, and other aesthetic posters you'd printed off from Pinterest were displayed neatly against the light beige-painted walls. Some fake leaves were also hanging from one part of your wall as part of the decor; along with framed portraits of your loved ones that you accumulated, a collection of stickers and postcards throughout the years—memories of your life pinned on a medium-sized corkboard hanging on your wall beside your bed. In all honesty, it brought your walls to life and reflected your personality—an organized chaos.

          You loved staying inside your room. It would always be your sanctuary no matter what. So why even try to go outside when you have everything here?

          Inside your room, no one can judge you. No one can laugh at you. No one can scream at you. No one can gaslight you. No one can dictate to you. No one can mistreat you—no one but yourself.

          In an attempt to get rid of the negative energy out of your body this early in the morning, your head shook sideways as a sigh of surrender left your lips. Never mind about that, I still have classes to attend.

          And with that, you made an effort to ignore what had transpired earlier and tried carrying on with your day.

          

The hours dragged on, and the faint sound of the clock ticking in agony filled your ears whenever you weren't wearing your headphones. During your zoom class earlier, there was a strange moment when one of your classmates forgot to turn off their camera and everyone watched in amusement as they fell asleep. Luckily, your camera was off as you tried your hardest not to laugh as it provided your fellow classmates to have much-needed comic relief. And for a few moments, the weight of your frustration subsided.

          Times passed by quickly as it was already afternoon. You heaved a sigh of relief; one more subject and you would finally be able to call it a day. At last, it was finally time for your last subject, which was Philosophy.

          You stood up from your chair to stretch a little—raising your arms in the air and moving a little side to side to hear your bones crack. The notion made you exhale a sigh of relief and relaxation before you join your last zoom call. Ah, that felt good.

          You clicked on the Zoom link and prepared yourself for the lesson.

          “. . . So? Does anyone have any idea about our new topic?” asked your Philosophy teacher once everyone had attended the zoom class and settled in.

          Your Philosophy teacher was full of great knowledge. He made learning even in online classes bearable with his way of teaching; interacting with the students and knowing how to hook them with the lessons in his own way. He was the type of teacher that students can treat as an acquaintance—the type that emitted a light and welcoming aura around him. Unfortunately, you and your fellow classmates weren't allowed to meet him in person and are stuck to seeing him inside the screen of your laptop.

          He tried calling for a student to answer his question, looking at the names on his screen. “Let's see. . . Hmm. . . Ah, yes. Aaron? Do you have any idea?”

          The guy named Aaron opened his camera and mic, and you heard him clear his throat. “Well, um. . . only a little sir. According to this anime, sir—I don't know if some know it—but in the anime, Eren Jaeger says ‘I have the freedom to continue moving forward’—”

          His features were clouded by shyness and you could tell he was already starting to feel embarrassed. You don't know much about him though, although you follow his Tiktok account which was filled with anime-related content.

          “—and um, ‘I am free. Whatever I do. Whatever I choose. I do it out of my own free will’ since the theme of it is freedom. And well, he's, um, kinda well-known for always trying to achieve freedom. That's all,” he finished, before letting out a dry laugh.

          Oh, he's brave for this, you chuckled, quite amused.

          “Oh, okay. . . Well, is that the trend nowadays? What's that called again? Anime? Hmm, kids these days. . .” rambled your Philosophy teacher. “Anyway, yes, correct. Free will. Nice answer and I guess they share the same sentiment, guys. But any other answers before I continue discussing?”

          He frowned, but then a tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. “Well okay, I guess none. Since all of you are on mute.”

          You kinda felt bad but then again, participating in discussions and voicing out an answer made you anxious.

          For the lesson, your Philosophy teacher created a PowerPoint presentation. Since you had previously used this type of template for your projects, it was obvious that he had used a Canva template for the design.

          “Freedom is a state of mind; it is a philosophical concept reflecting an inalienable human right to realize one's human will. Outside of freedom, a person can not realize the wealth of his inner world and his capabilities. Freedom begins exactly when a person deliberately restricts himself,” said your Philosophy teacher, reading the words on the PowerPoint slide.

          He then continued, “Many philosophers like John Locke, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Jean-Paul Sartre, Thomas Hobbes, and more had already shared their perception of the concept of freedom. The question of whether people are free, whether they should be free, what this implies, and what kinds of organizations we should create around these concepts all depend on this idea.”

          You grabbed your phone and took photos of the slides.

          He paused again before reading the words on the screen. “Even though we have free will, are we capable of deviating from the path that we have laid out for ourselves, including the weight of responsibility that comes with our past choices? Or, do the consequences of our actions control our will?”

          He then carried on. “The key to freedom is being aware of our choices and connections. What gives life significance is connections. We are only as free as our awareness of our capacity to select from available possibilities and develop fresh contexts and meanings. People claim to want freedom, but when it results in turmoil and chaos, they give up,” he said.

          His eyes then shone with wisdom. “Remember this, everyone. You have the freedom to influence other people with your choices, but also have a duty to respect the freedom of all persons. But then again, people must actually feel free in order to be free; they cannot simply claim to be free. That is why we can't trample on the freedoms of one person to help one or many others. So, if you do that, then you are simply not free.”

          Pack it up, Eren Jaeger. You thought. You then began to ponder his words. Wow, that was deep.

          He then changed the slide to another once again. “And so according to Albert Camus who is the Father of Absurdism, ‘The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.’”

          He tapped his finger under his chin. “Okay, I'll try to call someone to elaborate on that. Hmm, let's see. . .”

          There was a stunned silence. After a few minutes of deciding who to call, his eyes then lit up. “Ah, yes, can you please elaborate on what that means, Y/N?”

          Oh, god.

          You could feel the blood rushing in your veins as the nervous energy spread throughout your body. You wanted to close your laptop and scream at your pillows, but you had to answer the question and try to keep your composure. You then gingerly reached for the laptop and switched off the camera.

          What do I do? The only thing you could do right now was reread the passage over and over again until a light bulb goes on in your head and formulate an answer. Your heart thundered in your chest as your hands quaked; you clasped them together to prevent them from trembling uncontrollably. Breathe in. Breathe out.

          “Hello? Ms. L/N? Are you still there?”

          After taking a few measured breaths to steady your hands, you slowly opened your eyes and exhaled a deep shallow breath before turning on the camera and mic. I can do this.

          “Um. . . Well. . .” you started.

          “It's okay, go on,” he encouraged. “We're supposed to think freely. This is Philosophy, after all. We all have our own opinions that we must fight for.”

          You looked at the camera and offered a nervous smile. He was one of the rare teachers you had who was passionate about his job and didn't just try to give his students homework without allowing them to learn.

          “Well. . . In my opinion, it indicates that you are unstoppable. I think. . . You can't let other people dictate your actions since you have a strong sense of self-determination and choose not to listen to their false opinions. One example I think is how the government thinks they're doing a great job of handling this pandemic. When in reality, they're not. We, the people, are forced to be resilient. . .” At this point, you were aware that you were just rambling and that none of what you had said made any sense.

          Before the pandemic started, you used to be confident when it came to voicing your opinions, especially in public speaking. But now, things have changed. It seemed as if all of your courage had disappeared and you struggled to find your voice once again and formulate articulate thoughts.

          You gulped out of nervousness. “. . . I guess what Albert Camus means is that you must learn to break free. You must fight for what you stand for. You have complete control over your own life. Our society today only seems to be always joining bandwagons without much thought. Don't let these people change who and what you are. And I believe that what he said is a paradox. So um, yeah. . .”

          “Hmm, okay, thank you for that insightful answer, Y/N.”

          His remarks went unheard as you turned off your camera and microphone right away. You then sighed in frustration and buried your face in your hands. That was so embarrassing!

          But since you still had an ongoing class, you raised your head to continue listening. You took down some important notes and took pictures of the slides again.

          A glint of fascination filled your teacher's eyes before he spoke. “But what Camus means about freedom is only his version and not the entire concept of freedom. Remember that. Every action that we make, there are consequences waiting for us—good or bad.”

          This lesson was enlightening even though your brain couldn't handle any of it anymore. His words were an invitation to look beyond what is visible and to explore further, deeper into the unknown. His wise words painted a vivid picture of the world you were just beginning to understand. You were grateful to have a sagacious teacher like him who was willing to open the minds of his students and ponder about his words that can be applied to his students' lives beyond online school.

          “Now, for your performance task that would be passed the week after next week. I want you to make an essay about the concept of freedom of these philosophers and how you can apply or relate it to our world today while being quarantined. Pick only one philosopher that you'll use for reference. 3000 words. No excuses, okay? I already gave you a long deadline so I won't accept any late requirements. That's all. Goodbye, everyone. I will end the zoom call now.” He finished.

          After the lecture, you sat down in your chair, trying hard to absorb the concepts you just learned. With great effort, you tried to process the information—to make sense of it and to store it away so that you could recall it later. Though you were eager to comprehend all you had just heard, uncertainties started to surface. Maybe you weren't really smart enough to understand the ideas, or maybe it was just something no one could understand. But you persisted and did your best to retain these words of wisdom from your sagacious teacher.

To be continued . . .

⬅ prev chapter ┊ next chapter ➡

[funky-fox-fics]

Prompt: soulmate

please note that this story takes place in my pc/bs au, so you might not understand this if you haven't read that yet!

So here is how it goes, the night after you've found your soulmate, with one utterly and unfamiliarly complete soul now burning in your chest:

Bdubs lays beside you, trying to fall asleep, his own one-and-a-half souls tucked close to his code. You wonder if he's in Hermitcraft right now. You know this is technically a dream; you know that if a Watcher tried to invade right now, Grian could force a wake-up and you'd all be safe on your respective servers.

You wonder if it goes both ways. If, each night in the Life Series, you go back to Hermitcraft for a bit. You know you dream of Hermitcraft, most nights, when you fall asleep here. You don't know if it changes anything. There's too much going on in this bloody half-world to remember a dream.

You cannot hear Skizz here, anyway. In the first game, Grian hadn't got it right; he'd left some gaps in the code accidentally, or maybe he'd left them there on purpose. He'd failed once at trying to separate you two. He hadn't known what you were capable of. He'd made sure not to modify your codes too dramatically in case his nightmares about what binaries "could do" came true.

In the second game, he'd altered it based on your suggestions. Tweaked some of the code, made sure not to attack any code that would damage the link, and it had been gone. A precaution against a new curse I've thrown into the game, he'd said, Watcher Eyes out and watching. It's a bit... well, dangerous, and I don't know how that'd work for a binary, so what I'm gonna do is I'm gonna shut down the connection and we'll see if that helps any. If there's any issues, come find me, tell me it's an emergency code thing and I'll pause the Game. Alright?

And neither of them had actually gotten the curse, thank the Void, but it had been... eerie. The code had patched over the abyss that had always held the promise of Skizz, and it had been gone, and. You'd kept on thinking Grian would try and fix you both again, maybe he'd already done it and you hadn't known, maybe this was how it would always be, maybe the Skizz here was only an illusion and you were completely alone--

But you'd rejoined each other, woken up from the dream--as you'd always done, as you always will--and you'd been together again. Whole, truly and beautifully whole.

The code is here again, walling off the part of your mind that's connected to Skizz and keeping you firmly in one body. And instead there's--

A new gimmick, Grian had proposed. Soulmates. People who shared your health with you. People who you were tied to. People who had been picked by a wonderful roll of the dice, the fairest god of all. People who you would live for and die for and--for one pair, whoever that pair turned out to be--win for.

You and Skizz had looked at each other when he'd announced that, fear-distrust-intrigue splashing into both your minds. Skizz is thinking: No, I'm not giving you up, Impy. Not letting him. If he does--

Skizz hasn't lived with him for a season shattered short and two (admittedly unreliable) seasons before that, so it's reasonable that their near-fixing pours into his mind, nearly causing the two of them to flinch beyond the barriers of their thoughts. Skizz remembers his own death, his own awakening, his own fear flashing through his blood and making his heart pound--

You'd told him you're sure it'll be fine.

You'd been wrong.

Bdubs is now against you in your head, his thoughts filling the place where Skizz should be. You can hear them buzzing around his skull--muddled and distant, but if you focus--

Stupid mobs. I hate darkness. It's too dark outside. Need to sleep. What's Impulse doing? Is he okay? It's too dark out. Make it be day, Bdubs. Make it be day.

--you can hear him.

You don't think he's heard you yet. You don't know if he's capable of it. If he's heard you, he hasn't even thought about it, which--considering you're 99% sure Bdubs isn't a binary--would be near impossible. Even a familiar, routine moment sends a glimmer through a mind, a ripple hidden beneath the workings of a mind and more interesting, louder thoughts.

If he has heard you, then he doesn't care about binaries, which you also highly doubt. Bdubs, you know, is highly opinionated on many things, and he is not scared to share those opinions very loudly to the nearest person. And any sane person would be firmly anti-binary, wouldn't they be?

Your hands are trembling.

You think about secrets. You think about hatred. You think about Bdubs and his stupidly loud opinions.

You think about what Grian had promised--a soulmate to live for, to die for. To win for.

(You think about a clock, and a castle, and a betrayal, and then you do your best to not think about those things any more than you need to.)

Anyway. Bdubs' mind, unlike Skizz, tends to think loudly. Ideas come in bursts, usually unprompted, and whenever he sees something an opinion mutters in his mind. Sometimes shouts. Lots of things are colorful, literally--unlike Skizz's soft blue mind, only sometimes flashing with cerulean or turquoise when he's particularly passionate, Bdubs' mind is full of color. Maroons and scarlets for anger; dark browns and silvery grays for sadness; bright sparks of green and blue for happiness; startling, spiky blacks for fear.

Right now, his mind's lapsed into a quiet, thoughtful lavender blue, a little like Skizz's if you try hard enough. Everything's still too bright, a few hot-pink flutters of irritation lingering still, and Bdubs doesn't know you're even poking through his mind right now, but--if you don't think about what Skizz is like, if you try to pretend like Bdubs isn't here, if you try and ignore his distant thoughts and distant irritations, well. This is a little like Skizz, is all.

A spark of curiosity--a sort of orangey-red, tainting the calm blue and mixing with the rest of it, streaks and splatters and then finally his thoughts are whirring again and goodness he's awake again, and you retreat from observation just as Bdubs asks you:

"Hey, what's up?"

(You could tell him about this, Grian would say. You could tell him you're mentally connected to him, tell him you know what's he's thinking. Tell him you're connected to Skizz like this, tell him you're not sure if this was a good idea, tell him that you're scared. Because, Grian would say, this is a soulmate to live for. Someone you've got to trust. It'd hurt the both of you not to say anything.)

(You think about binaries. You think about being fixed. You think about a lot of things, and your mind flows quicker and quicker and quicker.)

"Nothing," you lie badly.

Some new color you can't quite place blooms into existence, taking its place next to the orange-red curiosity. Mossy green--like his cloak, like leaves, like plants. You're too scared to try and poke deeper, try and investigate exactly what this might be, but this color... it's new. Different. Bdubs goes through a lot of emotions, a lot of colors in a loud and bright mind, but this is new. Soft, even.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Bdubs says, and his voice has changed, and his eyes are dark and wide in the night, reflecting the flickering torchlight. "What's bothering you?"

"Lack of sleep, probably," you mutter, and there's a pink ripple of irritation. The orange-red fades into that lavender-blue sleepiness, and the mossy green's still there, still an emotion you can't quite place.

It nags at you. You're good at identifying Bdubs' emotions, you think. What's this one supposed to be?

"Then get some sleep," Bdubs says with a yawn. "You'll need it. You don't--you don't want to not sleep in a death game, that's bad for you. Night, Impulse."

For a moment, the mossy green overwhelms the lavender blue, and it swells and sings. It is not bright, not like the curiosity, not like fear or anger or happiness. It's like a blanket of grass, spreading over Bdubs' mind, burying all the bright colors and flashy lights.

It is this color that finally bridges the gap, finally breaks into your own mind. It spills over, and for a moment your own thoughts are simply color and sensation, and the color is mossy green, and the sensation is warm, familiar. Threatening to be fierce, but now, in the soft dredges of night, it's soft, placid.

Oh. It's love.

As soon as you've realized this, the mossy green begins to retreat. It draws away meekly, pulls back into the corners of Bdubs' mind, and the lavender blue returns. The blue overwhelms the other colors. Bdubs' mind is a swamp of lavender blue now, and you almost want the mossy green back, if only because of what it symbolizes, what it is.

Bdubs breathes evenly beside you now, asleep, limp and vulnerable. Your own thoughts are beginning to slow and stutter under the weight of how late it is. Your own breath is evening out. The soft chirping crickets sing you a lullaby. Everyone is still Green, it whispers. No need to worry just yet.

The ghost of the mossy green still lingers in your chest.

Bdubs' love is... overwhelming, a little. Passionate. It had felt a little like pride, except also distinctly not in ways you can't really place. It wasn't... it wasn't something omni-present, not like Skizz's mind. But it was there. He'd shared it with you, whether he'd known it or not.

You think about Skizz. You think about Bdubs. You think about failed gimmicks, and you think about hiding codes. You think about a clock, and a castle, and the friendship before the betrayal. You think about Grian.

You think about mossy green. You think about love.

You think: Maybe this soulmate thing won't be so bad after all.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Prompts 1, 2, and 3 with Knubbler

You guys know how in the previous post with itward I said a lot of the characters I wanted to do were underrated? YEAH UH

I wasn't lying 😭😭

This man has had a choke hold on me since august its not funny anymore

ONE BED TROPE

Let's all be honest hes going to find a way to try to make a move on you, whether you guys are officially together or not. Throw in a few pathetic attempts at flirting and trying to share the blanket with you and so on. He rubs his foot against yours to try to send signals/hj

Is not shy about it either, though if theres actually work that needs to be done the next day that's likely the only time hes not going to do much asides from a few lines.. he'd rather be well rested for whatever bullshit hes going to have to go through tomorrow

SICK

Oh I just know this dude would be so annoying when hes sick. I love knubbler, but he would be a nightmare. Hes more.. complainy than anything, though outside of that it's not too bad.. perhaps I over exaggerated.. Though he does try to flirt with you even when sick, especially if you've decided to take it upon yourself to be his personal nurse and take care of him.. is fairly mindful about containing whatever he has but hes not going to fret and stew if he forgets a precaution

FIRST KISS

The "kissing with tongue vs has never kissed before" or however it goes meme. You're not his first kiss so hes not worried about being inexperienced.. the tone really determines how he goes about it. If it's a heat of the moment thing and you two are more casual, hes going to be a tad bit rougher and likely try to shove his tongue down your throat. Little forceful, too. Though if the atmosphere is a little more tender and you two are more.. committed.. he is capable of taking things slow. As a side note, he definitely tries to sneak kisses throughout the day

[lovergirl-78]

REDEMPTION

Rick Grimes x Dalia Thompson(oc)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

AN:This is a test run. Seeing if you goes like this version if not just tell me please I would really like your feedback. Bare with me this is my first fanfic.

Warnings: mention of death, apocalypse,suicide, depression

659 words.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

The night was still; the beeping from the monitors and chittering from the people were still, yet Dalia seemed unmoved. Imagining what could be wrong with the world, her family and friends are all dead, while she remains untouched by the atrocities right outside the building. You see, Dalia often imagined that if she just opened that door and got eaten alive by the dead, just like her family, she would be free from the guilt of leaving them to die.

Dalia... DALIA!" a voice exclaimed, breaking Dalia from her zoned-out state.

Huh," Dalia responded.

"Did you not hear anything I just said?” Candace questioned.

"Is it about the cells?

"Honey, I know it’s hard right now, but you’ve got to understand that I’m here for you. Everyone lost something, and you staying alive is something your family would want.

Candace Jenner was a mother figure or a mentor figure for many, especially Dalia, who is fresh out of college. It’s been hard on everyone here at the CDC with the minimal scientists that remained. Some scientists decided to stay; some left to be with their families, while others decided to opt out of this nightmare. Dalia didn’t blame them; if she could, she would have too.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Vi, start recording!" Dalia yelled.

"Starting recording in three, two, and one," Vi replied.

"Well, here we go. Hi, my name is Dalia Thompson. I am currently twenty years old and a scientist at the CDC. Ummm.. I honestly don’t know why I did this, but Candace mentioned it’s good to keep a video diary to document or rant. Dalia sighed while taking a deep breath.

"It started on April tenth, two thousand and ten... I woke up with a crazy hangover from partying the night away with my friends Savannah and Mindy. I was tired as hell. I checked my phone, and I saw a barrage of messages from my parents angry about me missing Susie's seventh birthday. I really didn’t understand why they were so upset. There isn’t anything a seven-year-old and a twenty-year-old have in common. I digress. I worked at the CDC as a public health analyst, which is an entry-level job. When I entered work that day, Candace Jenner, who leads the CDC, reported about a strange virus that was found in France that changed people into empty, cannibalistic versions of themselves. We needed to research the effects immediately, but I guess it was too late.

It started small and manageable, and the government told us they had it under control. They sent out nationwide messages about the dangers of going outside and staying safe. Scientists and researchers were told to keep looking. Many hurried to leave to be with their families, and some decided to opt out. Since then, we've gotten rid of the bodies and placed ourselves in lockdown. No one can come in. Many came in hopes of food, shelter, and protection, but we couldn’t break protocol; we had to keep the doors shut. A family came by a couple days ago pleading for help, but we couldn't, and I watched as they got torn apart by the dead. Dalia takes a long pause. Her eyes tearing up and lips crumbling together at her meager attempt to hold in a cry.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Later that day,

Candace, Edwin Jenner, and I walked into the test room, which holds one of their dead colleagues. They needed a sample of the colleagues' DNA. Dalia offered to do it, but Candace said she would. They took an ample amount of safety precautions to prevent any way for them to get hit or scratched by the disgusting piece of sh*t.

Candace went in a full hazmat suit, looking like a marshmallow, which made Dalia laugh her ass off. But as Candace was turning away from collecting the DNA, all of a sudden it came back to life.

"WAIT!" Dalia screamed.

TBD..

[firelance2361]

What If…Pym Misplaced His Particle?

Here’s a trippy new piece I did based on my earlier work, with Hope Van Dyne/Red Queen and Hank Pym as the Wasp in honor of the (late) anniversary of Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, which I have now fully developed into a What If…? Scenario.

——————

In this universe, shortly after Scott Lang is released from prison and goes to see his family and daughter Cassie, things take a turn for the worse when Cassie suffers a heart attack and needs to be hospitalized. After Cassie is treated and stabilized, the doctors tell Scott, Maggie, and Jim Paxton that the cause was some mysterious nanotech device near her artery valve. Upon closer examination of the x-rays and later the discs, they find a Pym Tech logo on each and every one of them.

Jim and Scott go to confront Hank Pym and interrogate him on his possible involvement. After showing him the Resizing discs they found from Cassie’s X-rays, Hank agrees to fill them on everything. After telling them the history of the Pym Particle and how he retired after Janet went subatomic, he shows them both the Ant-Man and prototype Wasp suit, telling Scott that he had him in mind for a successor since the Vistacorp burglary.

Hank then reveals the other potential culprits behind this: Mitchell Carson, Bill Foster, and Darren Cross. He also informs them that his daughter Hope can’t be a suspect since she died in this universe soon after Cross announced plans for the Yellowjacket armor, something he believes is connected to Cassie’s hospitalization. Jim and Scott decide to bring Hank along as a consultant to keep a close eye on him while they investigate further; Jim calls in his police friends to secure all of Hank’s assets and suits elsewhere as a precaution, and Scott enlists his Ex-Con friends Luis, Dave, and Kurt to keep tabs on any street news.

——————

Deciding to work their way up to Cross before they jump the gun, first on their list of suspects is Bill Foster, due to his involvement with Project G.O.L.I.A.T.H. Upon arriving and learning of his and Hank’s rivalry, Jim and Scott get right to questioning, They ask Bill about his whereabouts and his recent actions regarding the Pym Particles, to which Bill tells them he hasn’t been involved with anything regarding the Particles as he’s been busy tending to someone else.

That’s when Ava Starr phases in out of nowhere, about to kill Hank before Bill stops and talks her down. Upon realizing she’s Elias Starr’s daughter, he informs everyone how he and Janet confronted her father over his misuse of the Quantum Tunnel, leading to his accidental death and Ava’s molecular disequilibrium. A riled-up Ava chews him out for being responsible for Elias’ death, which causes her condition to flare up suddenly. As she makes her way to her Quantum Chamber, Bill explains the logistics of her condition as well as how the container operates to treat it.

As Ava’s being administered her quantum particles, Scott and Jim call Maggie about Cassie’s condition and the information they’ve gathered. Maggie tells them she’s fine, and that the police are keeping guard outside her room 24/7. Before they hang up, Maggie tells them that she did some digging regarding Hank’s past, and that Hope’s death happened in a car crash not too far from the Lang household. As they hang up with this new info in mind, Scott texts Luis about the location, telling him to look more into it.

That’s when alarms start going off from the chamber, and Hank notices something going wrong with Ava. He and Bill checks the schematics and sees that the chambers systems have been set in overdrive and are now overloading Ava with quantum energy. Bill tries to stop it, yelling for them to help, but to no avail. All Bill can do is watch as Ava screams for mercy as her body begins to tear itself apart from the inside. Then the chamber explodes, blasting everyone back, killing Ava in the process. Bill lays there in shock, horrified by how this happened, until Jim pins him to the ground, placing him under arrest as Bill shouts frantically that he’s innocent.

Hank and Scott just look on at the scene, knowing now that whoever’s after them was after more than just the simple particle. This was personal.

——————

Bill gets taken into custody as the group reviews the information regarding the murderer. They’ve yet to nail Darren Cross as their culprit since they don’t have any definitive proof it was him and not an imposter.

Things only get more intense when the Ex-Cons calls up Scott and tells them Luis heard from a street informant about a possible lead, which sends the cops over to an old S.H.I.E.L.D. warehouse upstate. As the group checks in on them via camera feed, they all are shocked to find the body of Mitchell Carson, half his face burned off, ruling him out as a possible suspect.

Hank, while reviewing the evidence, laments to Scott over the disappearance of his wife and the death of his daughter, and how his life spiraled after that. He shares his regrets about creating the Pym Particle, calling it a doomed miracle that brings nothing but chaos wherever it brings. Hank tells Scott he chose him because he believed that perhaps Lang could succeed where he himself had failed, giving him the advice not to take his family for granted.

——————

Going in to interrogate Bill on the matter, the two of them discuss the reasoning behind the killer, correctly assuming that whoever’s after Hank is using these people to get to him, to break him down and weaken him. As the two of them chat, they remark about the old days and their partnership, and Hank apologizes if his temper did get the better of him then.

Before they can finish their talk, however, Bill collapses on the ground, suffering from a fatal heart attack. Hank and the others rush in to try and help save him, but it’s too late. As the medics try to save Bill, Hank notices a small figure leaping away through the doorway; they try to catch the figure but they are too late as it’s long gone.

——————

Now with no other leads and an official warrant, Hank, Scott, and Jim go to arrest Darren Cross for the murders committed. Scott tells Maggie, Cassie, and the Ex-Cons to stay alert and keep her eyes and ears open, and Hank gives him the Ant-Man suit as a precaution, telling him to stay close.

The group goes advances with their police team on the Pym Technologies Building, Darren barricades himself inside the Yellowjacket chamber, suiting himself up. As Hank, Scott, and Jim break into the containment unit, Darren starts attacking them, taking out guards lefts and right, with only Scott managing to stop him from killing his friends.

As Darren gets back up, however, a malfunction starts to go off in his suit. His Pym Particles start to alter his size uncontrollably, shrinking and growing different parts of his body. The others watch in horror as the Yellowjacket begins to grow into an amorphous mass, his screams echoing throughout the building, before exploding in a mass pile of smoke and blood. Everybody watches on in shock, before immediately moving to arrest a now dumbstruck Hank Pym, as he is the only suspect left they have.

——————

A confused and worried Hank tries to tell Scott and Jim that he’s innocent, that he didn’t kill them, but neither of them are having any bit of it. The mood stays tense until they get a face-time call from Luis, Kurt, and Dave, who said they found something interesting at Hope’s death site. Kurt and Dave double-checked the impact on the tree where the car crashed, and they found out it doesn’t match the ones normally found at these kind of crashes; they say it almost looked like someone blew it up from the inside.

The news sends Hank into a panic. He tells Luis and Ex-Cons to get out of there now, but it’s too late, as the phone goes dark and screams are heard from the other side. The trio rush over to the crash site, trying to save them, but arriving too late to save them as the trio lay dead before them.

Hank rushes over to the tree stump where the crash happened, using a Resizing disc to open it up. Scott then enters it to find massive laboratory inside the tree, with computers and generators shrunken down to fit inside. They also find a mysterious layout of the city sewer system and where they all connect to where they’ve been chasing the killer. Scott checks the computers, confirming that the killer had been keeping tabs on them since the Yellowjacket announcement, and that revenge on Hank Pym and his legacy was their real target. Knowing now who the killer is, they rush over to the hospital, calling Maggie to get Cassie to safety.

When they get to the hospital though, they find a swarm of police officers surrounding it, and a wounded Maggie being hysterical. Scott and Jim ask her what happened, and they learn that the killer knocked her out as she tried to get Cassie out of the hospital, and she woke up alone only to find a note left for Hank.

Hank opens it to find a tracking beacon and a message from the killer: (Graveyard. 11:11. Tonight. Both of you. Or history repeats itself.)

——————

The group returns to the police station to stock up on the remaining Pym-Tech they have, and Hank grabs the prototype Wasp suit they still had locked up, figuring now’s a better time than ever to finish it. After retrofitting it to fit himself and suiting up, Hank and Scott fly over to the San Francisco Cemetery to save Cassie’s life with a SWAT team on route, with Jim and Maggie monitoring from the police station. The new Ant-Man and Wasp follow the beacon to its source: the gravesite of Janet Van Dyne.

Hank laments to Scott again over his wife, sorrow in his voice, until his tone turns to disdain when the killer finally appears, revealing herself to be none other than Hope Van Dyne as the Red Queen. Hope chews out her father for wearing her mother’s suit, and gifting his own to a complete stranger, blaming him for Janet’s fate. We learn that Hank’s decision to pick Scott as a successor drove Hope far more over the edge in this universe, leading her down a bloody path of vengeance against the legacy of Ant-Man, a legacy she says is nothing more than that of a coward.

As father and daughter engage in combat, Scott runs off to find Cassie, searching everywhere until he finds her in shrunken Quantum Chamber like Ava’s, rigged and timed to go subatomic. Scott works fast to free his daughter, trying to dodge the barrage of Wasp stings from both Hank and Hope. The two Pyms keep dueling each other, their long-suppressed trauma and grief over Janet’s demise coming to light.

Scott manages to free Cassie from the container in time, but their troubles are far from over, as Jim reports they’ve picked up readings of multiple Pym-Particle bombs laced throughout the city sewer systems all linked to Hope’s heartbeat. If she dies, the city goes subatomic. As this happens, Hope manages to pin Hank by his wings using her shoulder spikes, immobilizing him.

She knocks back Scott, before holding Cassie captive, telling him to make the choice between saving Cassie and saving the city. Scott seemingly hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to do, but that was only a distraction. He managed to slip Cassie a Resizing disc earlier, which she uses to shrink Hope off her long enough for Scott to land a critical hit, knocking her back onto a tombstone and crippling both her suit’s systems and her leg.

Scott and Cassie are safely reunited, and Hank breaks free and radios for the Feds to move in. Despite Hope’s hatred of him, he tries to reconcile with her about their past, apologizing for what happened to Janet because of his failure.

——————

Hope gets taken into police custody, and Hank promises to help repair the damage she has caused to the city and Scott’s family. Sometime afterwards as they all gathered at the Lang house for dinner, Scott, Hank, and the family get a visit from the Avengers themselves, who thank them for their service in catching the Red Queen, offering them both a spot on the team.

——————

Sorry again for the lengthy bio on this one, but this is something I wanted to throw out before the month ends.

Hope you like it!

[renee-writer]

A Rescue Chapter 33

AO3

“What the hell happened here?” Detective Sergeant Mhor stares down at the dead body and then over to the one being loaded into a stretcher.

 

“We knew he would be coming after Jamie. As you weren’t  watching him…”

 

“Look,” his partner, Detective Sergeant Mackenzie interrupts Colum, “it isn’t that we didn’t want too. We knew the lad was bad news. Budgeting constrictions affect us all, eh?”

 

“Well due to them, our lad was shot and my brother had to shoot the bastard.”

 

“So, Randall fired first?”

 

“Willie wouldn’t have shot first. He is well trained.” Dougal looks over, into the ambulance, where they are working on him. Once more, he says a prayer.

 

“I heard Willie cry out before I heard Randall.” Jamie offers. He stares down at the dead man, who’s  blood has stained the carpet. Would it need replaced or will it be able to be cleaned. He realizes he is going into shock a second before all goes blank.

 

He wakes to Claire ‘s anxious face over his. She holds tight to his hand.

 

“Don’t be doing that,” she is pale and her hand in his, shakes, “you scared me.”

 

He realizes he is in the back of an ambulance.

 

“No, Willie needs to be…”

 

“Breath, Mr. Fraser. Mr. Mackenzie has already arrived at hospital. This one is for you. You have quite a shock. You’re blood pressure bottomed out. We are taking you in as a precaution “ the medic says.

 

“Alright,” back to Claire, “Sorry I scared you.”

 

“The whole thing… is he really dead?”

 

“Aye,” once again he sees Randall laying dead, a hole in his forehead. Dougal shot to kill not just stop. He prays it is considered justified, “he shot Willie and Dougal shot him.”

 

Once at the hospital, they find out Willie is in theatre and Dougal was brought in for questioning.

 

“It was justified. Willie couldn’t defend himself.” Colum argues to Ellen and Jenny. Jamie agrees and prays the cops see it that way.

 

“Why didn’t  you stop him outside the property?” Angus questions him.

 

“Would you arrested him for heading to Lallybroch?” at their silence, he adds, “exactly. Now for breaking in. The idea was to stop him before he could harm anyone inside. Not drop him. I heard the shot, heard Willie cry out. When I made it there, he stood over him, ready to shoot him again. I did as needed to stop that.”