#where neither tone nor body language is visible

[mint-ty]

.sigh

[scekrex]

Hi!! I love ur stories sm and im gonna ask anonymously for my first time cuz im lowkey shy LOL 🥲..

I was wondering maybe a Adam x Male reader where they had a huge argument, reader mentions something mean about Eve or Lillith to Adam after he says something petty, and Adam reacts without realizing and accidentally hits Reader. (by instinct) Then in shock, reader storms out and doesn’t come back home for a couple of days. (Or you can make it as long, or as short as you want!) You can make it as angst to your liking, and maybe add a makeup (fluff) at the end!! :)) I just think it would be interesting to see.

Thank you, and take care of yourself ! ❤️

Can do, the fluffy end is probably not as fluffy as it could've been but idk it just turned out the way it did ig

All this pain and the words that I cannot say, at least I'm trying

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hitting (without consent), low-key toxic relationship

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The air felt tense, the vibe wasn’t as happy and cheery as it had been only moments ago and your neighbors were complaining about the loud screams and yells that kept coming from your apartment and yet neither you nor Adam got it together to simply leave in order to calm down. To be fair, it was your apartment so if someone was in the position to leave it was Adam. The argument between the two of you wasn’t just a tiny thing, it might have been the biggest fight you ever had with him.

The screaming and yelling was loud, the arguments were weak - not only his but yours were too. And yet you both found yourself too prideful to actually admit that to that. Hell would freeze before you would give him the boost of being right by admitting you were wrong, no way you’d admit to that to someone like Adam. And then he said something that caused you to snap.

“Maybe if you wouldn’t be so fucking complicated it would be easier to love your bitchy ass,” Adam yelled at you, his voice already sounded raspy and broken, his body language told you that he was not the only one who was slowly growing tired from fighting - you were too. You clicked your tongue, then responded in a quiet yet annoyed tone, “At least I didn’t lose the fucking women God created for me and only me, you did. So be my fucking guest Adam, if it’s so hard to love me, break the fuck up.” The shock in Adam’s eyes was visible, it was paired with betrayal that he felt, the comment had hit exactly the right spot to actually hurt the brunette and while you regretted it immediately, you did not apologize for it. “Leave them out of this, this shit’s between you and me, bitch,” the first man growled angrily and suddenly the betrayal and shock were overplayed by anger - pure rage vibrated through his body and he made it obvious. You simply crossed your arms over your chest, why though? Why did he get to say mean things about you and you were not allowed to shoot queally mean things back at him? “It’s not my fucking fault you were a horrible person in Eden - horrible enough to make the devil seem nicer. Maybe I’ll go down and suck Lucifer’s dick-” you were not able to finish your sentence.

Adam raised his hand and slapped you across the face. It stung, the part of your cheek that he had hit turned red but worse than that was the fact that he hit you. He had never hurt you physically before, yes there had been fights, yes there had been arguments but never had he hurt you before in any form or way. Your mind was blank, your body felt numb except for your cheek and all you were able to do was to stare, stare at him, stare at his hand, stare at the wall behind him. Before Adam was able to apologize through the fog that had clouded your brain lifted and you stormed off, you grabbed your backpack on your way to the front door and just as the brunette you called your boyfriend was about to say something, you slammed the door shut. From the hallway you heard how one of the picture frames fell to the ground and broke, you couldn’t care any less.

-

Adam just stood there and watched because what else was he supposed to do? He knew it was too late to apologize, he knew he fucked up badly and that there was the possibility of you breaking up with him and if he was completely honest with himself he deserved it. He had never been the perfect boyfriend you deserved, he had always been out of line, loud and simply too much but you had always assured him that that was simply who he was and that you loved him for who he was - but was that still the case? Did you still love him after that? Because it was one thing to pick fights with each other far more often than other couples did but it was a different thing entirely to hit your partner, Adam was very aware of that. And yet he had still raised his hand against you, a thing he had sworn to himself to never do had been done and he wasn’t able to simply undo it. A weak apology wouldn’t do either, not after that.

He wanted to go after you but he knew you well enough to be aware of how stupid that idea was, the fight would only continue outside of the apartment and he would only cause things to escalate even more and that he really didn’t want. He wasn’t even sure why he hit you in the first place, it had just… kind of happened? He didn’t know. What he did know was that you were gone and that you’d surely spend the night at someone else’s place and while he hated the idea of it, he was smart enough to know that it was for the best to have a little distance between you and him for the night. Surely you’d come back the next day and you two could sort things out.

-

But you didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that day.

Adam was freaked out to say the least, he was worried you might secretly dump his ass, stop by when you knew he wasn’t home to pick up your stuff and just disappear. His wives had left him and he was convinced you would leave him just like them. You weren’t his husband yet, you could simply disappear if you wanted to and that scared Adam, it scared him deeply. Because deep down he knew that afterlife without you wouldn’t make any sense, that he was simply a lost soul without you by his side.

He was sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come back, he had canceled all the appointments and band meetings to simply sit on the couch of your apartment and wait for you to come back home, that was all he wanted. He wanted to know you’re safe. But he didn’t know shit because you weren’t answering his calls or responding to his texts, you did read them though. It was driving him crazy to not be sure of anything despite the fact that you were gone.

Where were you?

When would you come back?

Would you come back to begin with?

The brunette jumped off the couch when he heard a key in the lock and his face reflected the relief he was feeling when he saw that you were the one opening the door. Without thinking twice he rushed over to where you stood, the front door still open behind you. The first man pulled you into a bone crushing hug, mumbling sweet nothings under his breath as his wings wrapped around your body in protection. “Fuck, you’re back,” he whispered, sounding so lost, so hurt, so scared. You weren’t hugging him back but you also didn’t try to push him away or get out of the hug in general.

What were you supposed to do? Hugging him back felt wrong after he hit you but pushing him away seemed even worse - yet you wanted an apology. An honest and emotional apology with an explanation of why he did what he did. But you got none of that, instead you listened to Adam who was brabbling everything that he had worked so hard on to bottle up inside of him. “Don’t fucking leave me, do what you want, punch me, scream at me, kick me out but don’t fucking leave me.” And if Adam would be more emotional than he was he would’ve cried, would’ve broken down in front of you while holding you. But he wasn’t emotional and therefore didn’t cry. What he did was that he made sure you understood how desperately he needed you in his life.

And while that was not what you wanted - an apology - it was okay for the moment.

[doiefics]

get a room

pairing: jaehyun x afab!reader

prologue: there is no scope peace and privacy while travelling in the peak season, perhaps getting stuck in the elevator with jaehyun could bring you some luck

genre: smut + established relationship!au

wordcount: 1022

warnings: sexual content [ make out + fingering + moaning +  grinding + mirror sex + getting caught? ]

As soon as you stepped inside the elevator, all of the hubbub, including the shouting, screaming and screeching of the little children that you thought were annoying came to an immediate end offering you with one of the most peaceful seconds you would have had through the last week. Not even the private suite of the hotel could provide this level of a solace. You knew you were going to regret it later when you booked the tickets for the busiest tourist season, but it was what it was.

"Finally!" You exhaled a sigh of relief, stretching your arms, as your fiancé on the other side of the elevator gave you a soft grin before pressing one of the buttons.

"It's actually peaceful." Jaehyun was the type to enjoy the calm, he did not say much, immersed in the little moment while the usual jazz music played in the background.

You could swear it would have barely moved a floor or two when a sudden loud thud was heard, and in the blink of an eye everything went black, except for the neon emergency lights.

"Oh fuck!" He cursed under his breath as he naturally moved closer to you, concerned.

"Looks like we'll be stuck for a while." You implied, crossing your arms. Signs of concerns were no where to be found on your part, neither in your body language, nor your words.

"Right." He hummed.

Your hand swiftly drew closer to Jaehyun's chest as it ran softly and delicately across it.

Your unexpected action surprised him. "Baby?" He inquired with his soft voice.

"Yeah?" Whereas yours was sultry, just like your stare, which was firmly set on his.

"Maybe we shouldn't do it here." He recommended, attempting to take hold of your hand and cease the movements that were gradually going to drive him insane.

"Why not?" You began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, slowly, without a single utterance of words as he only watched, a not so innocent emotion visible through his transparent eyes.

A pink tint took over Jaehyun's face and ears. He was shy, or pretending to be.

"We've been together for six years, you don't have to be shy." You said boldly, now touching his bare torso as you took a step backwards to use his shirt as a cover up for the security camera.

After a brief period of adjustment, you switched your attention back to him. "They won't see us now." Reassuring him, even though you were not the type to care about such things in the first place.

Jaehyun stood dumbfounded, and shirtless, revealing his toned muscles. You pulled him closer, making him wrap his hands around you, guiding them to trace the rest of your skin.

As slowly as he could, he began kissing you, every few seconds he would tilt his head to the opposite side. Your hands roamed around his body as he did and you let out a moan each time his tongue did the magic.

"Just marry me already." Jaehyun commented at the sight of the ring on your fourth finger, which sparkled in the near absent lights. 

"Hmmmm!" Another moan as you dragged his hand up your ass, making him feel every inch of your body through the light fabric of your dress. 

The smirk placed on his lips couldn't not conceal the fact that he was enjoying it just as much, and boy did he love when you took control. Jaehyun was also the type to only act innocent.

"No panties?" He whispered in his rasp, low voice next to your ears, sending shivers down your core, starting to touch and caress it and making your heart rate go up instantly.

Not too different from his, your hands reached below his belt, toying with the zipper of his pants. You could already feel how needy he was.

"Not here baby." He cooed. "Don't wanna make a mess, do you?" Moving his hand faster this time, he loved teasing you.

"Please, just once." You pleaded, looking at him with one very needy look in your eyes like that of a kitten, the ones you know he could never turn down.

He hummed again, and he turned you around to face the mirrored walls of the elevator, standing behind you, wrapping his arm around your neck as he rested his face on your shoulder.

"This feels dirty." He went on, almost inaudible.

"Because it is." You reply was shut by another moan, for he started placing sloppy kisses on the back of your neck.

Six years, he had memorised your body by the heart.

It drove you wild when he pressed his clothed crotch on the back of your hips and started to grind, maintaining eye contact through the mirror. Two pairs of eyes filled with the same leer. 

"Hurry up!" You whined out of impatience. The adrenaline acted more of a turn-on when you knew it would not take long for the maintenance to reach for help.

"Wait for it, my love." Jaehyun murmured again.

This time around, another noise was heard, a different one as the bright white lights turned on again.

Jaehyun was quick to pull your dress down, stepping back, beads of sweat tracing down his forehead.

Not a second later, the door was opened, revealing three people for help and a bunch of other guests. You sighed internally, Jaehyun's timing was perfect. 

The people in front of you started to babble words out, in a language you could not understand, but their expressions suggested their thoughts weren't noble. 

You tucked your hair behind your ear and looked at him. "Don't forget your shirt." 

He quickly nodded, grabbing his cloth, carrying it in his hands instead of putting it on, brushing his hand through his hair, following you outside the elevator, unapologetic. 

"Where else can we even act wild if not in places where nobody knows us?" You remarked as you walked through the lobby.

"True." Jaehyun still wore that sensual smile, his brain filled with filthy things that he'd do once the two of you would get a room.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[harlowtales]

Y/N goes on an interview at PHOCUS. She has no idea Jack Harlow will be interviewing her to be his assistant in the office.

You just got to Louisville and job hunting wasn’t going well. You had a lot of skills in office work and social media, but were not having any luck. You applied to some company with a weird name you weren’t sure how to pronounce called Phocus. It was for an energy drink company. You had landed an interview and it wasn’t really what you wanted but you needed something soon.

The first interview was by Zoom with one of the owners to weed out candidates. You were super nervous. Waiting for them to come on screen you kept having to stop yourself from tapping your leg. Your nerves were sky high.

“Miss y/n?”You heard a voice say. You sat up straight in your chair and turned your camera on. The person on the other end was visibly taken aback when they saw you. You instantly thought you weren’t going to make the cut. Something was not right with his reaction.

It didn’t register at first who it was on the other end of the screen as you were that nervous until it clicked. “Holy shit. Jack Harlow?” You liked his music but weren’t obsessed or anything. You had to be under a rock to not know who he was. Suddenly confusion was added to your anxiety.

“Why da fuck they send me a candidate I would be attracted too?” Jack thought slightly irritated. He didn’t know how much his body language said as you turned your camera on. You had taken it for a bad reaction when really he was struck by your looks. A fantasy of his for a long time, you looked like a secretary with your hair in a sensible bun, glasses, minimal makeup, and a white button up shirt. You thought you looked professional and smart. Jack thought you looked hot. Possibly too hot to work with. This position was for business. The person would be his right hand at Phocus offices and he didn’t want these types of distractions.

“Miss y/n, tell me where you’re from? Your resume says Wisconsin?” He asked in his most serious tone.

“Yes I just moved here a few months ago. I heard Louisville was growing and lots of jobs out here so I came to see what I could find.”

“Adventurous or irresponsible?” Jack decided he was going to be hard on you so you wouldn’t make the cut but he had to interview you.

“Excuse me?” You said unsure he had been so…direct/rude.

“I said, are you adventurous or irresponsible?” Jack restated so there was no misunderstanding. He leaned back in his chair waiting for you to stutter or unravel.

“Oh well, I would rather think of myself as adventurous, but neither an adventurous spirit nor an irresponsible inkling was a factor. It was a well thought out and planned decision. I have watched the job market in my top 3 cities to relocate too and it’s clear Kentucky has a booming economy with a 4.3% increase in its gross domestic state production over the last few fiscal periods.” You found this to be the best answer and were too nervous to be offended by what Jack was trying to do.

Jack was stunned. Not only did you not play into his hands, but you answered the question way beyond what he thought anyone would. “Fuck! She’s smart as fuck.” He thought in frustration “I’ll have to turn up the heat because she’s actually turning me on now.”

He tapped his pen looking at your resume thoughtfully. He couldn’t come across as too much of a jerk for fear of getting complaints on how he treated applicants. The media would love that story. “Very smart to keep your eye on the markets. We are booming in Louisville.” He answered a bit more cheerfully.

You smiled a little shyly and fixed a lock of hair back behind your ear. A small gesture that Jack unfortunately noticed making him more frustrated. After a few more questions he knew you were over qualified and had to pass you on to the next round of in-person interviews, but he did so reluctantly. Hopefully other candidates he had to see that day would be far less attractive and would have your same credentials. Until he noticed something very uncanny.

“It says here you did volunteer work in Rio? Teaching English to underprivileged kids in the villages? Is this true?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief and now he was actually a bit upset you were damn near his perfect match on paper.

“Yes sir. It was a wonderful opportunity for me to give back to the world. I think here in the United States we are so fortunate and we should do all we can to share our blessings.” You answered matter of factly not knowing what you just did to Jack. Internally he was screaming.

“Well I have to say you have moved on to our next round of in-person interviews with the team.” Jack said in not the nicest tone. You were a little thrown off the whole time. You weren’t sure he was totally satisfied, but were happy you passed the initial screening with such an influential part of the company.

“Thank you so much Mr. Harlow. I really appreciate the opportunity to come back and I really liked your last album by the way. I really felt a lot of what you were saying, especially the Rio thing which of course resonated with me. I’m not flattering because of this today. I really mean that, you are inspiring. I hope that isn’t unprofessional of me to say.”

This totally disarmed Jack. He felt very strongly about his last project. “Thank you.” He blushed “See you next week. Please be on time.” He said abruptly.

“I certainly will be on time thank you so much sir.” You said respectfully making Jack’s situation worse. One thing he loved was someone with manners.

As the week went on Phil noticed Jack was somewhere else. “Dude, you’re not even with me right now.” He said getting mad Jack was not responding when he was just making conversation as they hung out on Phil’s porch on a sweltering day after a game of pickup at a local court.

“Sorry…you’re right. I’m not here.” Jack apologized

“Well what’s up?” Phil asked concerned

“Just fucking weird…” Jack said trailing off

“EARTH TO JACKMAN!!!” Phil shouted cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his frustration with his friend.

“Sorry. I met this woman…” Jack started

“You meet hella hotties all the time.” Phil interrupted

“No, I interviewed her last week for Phocus.” Jack said

“So.” Phil said unaware of what the issue was

“So, she’s volunteered…in Rio.” Jack said wistfully “Like how fucked up is that?”

Phil was getting it now. “Oh shit.” He said flatly “And I guess she’s hot…and probably the best candidate but if you hire her you’ll always be tempted?”

“Bingo.” Jack said with a sigh

“Well, better for you to have a good assistant bro. You’ll forget all about her once your back on the road. Soon you’ll get used to her being around. Remember that little crush you had on Neelam at first?” Phil offered

“Yeah.” Jack laughed. He thought Neelam was so grownup and better than local girls but soon he got used to working with her and had no desire to be with her in that way. “Thanks bro, you’re right. I’m trippin.”

PART 2

“Miss y/n they’re ready for you.” A lady came out and directed you into the interview room. A panel was waiting for you that included Jack, the other owner, and a manager. You went in and smoothed out your snug fitting skirt as you sat down in front of them. You had on a nice floral silk blouse tucked into your skirt and heels, showing your curves as you couldn’t help it. Your usual bun would not cooperate that morning so your hair was down but sleekly smoothed out. Jack had to hide his reaction upon seeing you in person. He cleared his throat and fidgeted in his chair.

“Hello again Miss y/n.” Jack said cooly but politely

“Hello Mr. Harlow.” You answered plainly “Hello to you gentlemen as well.” You said graciously and smiled when addressing them. Jack got a bit of a cold shoulder as you felt he was intentionally harsh with you last time and couldn’t figure out why.

The other panelists didn’t pick up on the exchange of energy but Jack did. His eyebrow going up and feeling a bit heated. Maybe this was for the best as he knew you would probably be hired. After the interview you were asked to step outside.

“Miss y/n you can go back in.” The lady said leading you back into the room.

“Miss y/n we have deliberated and would like to offer you the position.” The manager said

“Oh! That’s great news!” You said happy to finally find something

“I have high expectations.” Jack added

“Of course sir.” You obliged

PART 3

“Ok y/n first thing’s first drop the Mr. Harlow. I’m Jack.” Jack said as he showed you around the offices

“Yes Jack.” You said dutifully

“And relax I don’t bite.” He said with a side grin and you smiled back letting out some air that was tight in your chest.

After your orientation he said “I’m not around much, so we’ll mostly work together by Zoom or the phone.”

“Understood.” You said sternly. It was getting late and your stomach made an embarrassing growl. You had been with Jack all day and were hungry and tired.

“Want to grab a bite?” Jack said laughing

“I’m so embarrassed” You said sweetly

Jack had to immediately dismiss his feelings creeping up. “C’mon it’s on me. Let’s get to know each other.” He said.

You stopped at Indy’s, one of Jack’s favourite local spots. He ordered only one meal. “You’re not eating?” You asked

“I don’t eat fast food.” Jack said a little sadly

“I don’t want to eat alone, so no worries just drop me to the bus if you don’t mind.”

“I already ordered and I want us to chat a bit.” Jack insisted

“But you’ll just be looking at me eat.” You protested

“Ok I’ll turn my back then” he said laughing in that charming way he had. “I’m used to it.” He assured you

Your food came and he delighted watching you enjoy it and getting to know you. He asked you all about Rio and how you liked Louisville and your background. You we’re starting to see why women loved him so much. He looked right at you and had the nicest warm gaze and smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, after that, I’m off again.” He said cheerfully as he dropped you home. “And I’m going to get you a company car. You’ll be running lots of errands.” He watched your ass subtly as you walked up to your door. You felt a little attraction but reflexively shoved it down deep and dismissed it. He was Jack Harlow after all, every other woman thought he was hot and you weren’t blind. Besides this was your new boss and you were seeing someone.

The next morning Jack looked irritated as you got into the office. There was a massive bouquet of roses on your desk. “Congratulations my girl.” Said the card. You smiled as you took in the aroma of one flower.

“We have a lot to do today.” He said roughly

“Yes sir…I mean Jack” you said instantly snapping out of appreciating your roses.

“Make sure you stay focused and tell your boyfriend to have things delivered to your home.” He warned

“Absolutely, I will.” You agreed

Your answer confirmed you had a boyfriend and Jack’s competitive nature rose up wether he liked it or not.

“Good, let’s get started.” He commanded

After work Jack saw you get into a guy’s car that was waiting out front for you. Why wouldn’t you have a man in a short time being in Louisville, if he was struggling to be around you, he imagined just seeing you out what he would say to get your attention. He liked the perfume you wore, the way you walked, and how confident and intelligent you were. He had already had a deep conversation with you much to his dismay because this made it harder for him, but now he couldn’t let you go because the team had decided on you.

PART 4

Some months went by and Jack hadn’t been in the office in awhile. You had brief calls with him between interviews, appearances, and shows. Emails flew at you all day, and running around getting everything done that Jack needed as a partner in the business. He made a point to have a virtual coffee chat with you once a month on Zoom just to connect. These were great chats where you got to know each other better. You were happy dating your guy, but Jack definitely had opinions he started making known about your man. You didn’t catch on as you had zero expectations of Jack Harlow liking you. It wasn’t until the office holiday party that you were made to know what was going on.

Jack glared from a corner as you and your man walked into the party at his penthouse holding hands. He pretended not to see you when he greeted all the other guests. Phil noticed and approached his friend “Not cool Jack. Real petty.” Phil said

“I don’t give a fuck.” Jack retorted “Guy’s a fucking clown. Look at his pants.” He said motioning over to you

“Bro. You’ve worn pants like that” Phil stated and walked away pissing Jack off even more. He was subtle with the way he delivered his criticism unlike the rest of the guys.

Jack couldn’t avoid you any longer and came over, not to greet you, but to grill your man.

“Y/n you look beautiful” Jack said giving you a polite peck on the cheek that your man Richard side eyed.

“Thank you Jack. You’re place is gorgeous, and the view!” You exclaimed. Your boyfriend reluctantly came to the party with you. He kept trying to tell you Jack was feeling you but you insisted he was delusional.

Jack didn’t hide taking you all in. You were wearing a slinky red cocktail dress with a slit in the leg. Your hair was curled and off to one side with a sparkling hair pin. You were exuding Hollywood glamour with a red lip that Jack had a sudden vision of deeply kissing, and you smelled incredible. “Is that a new perfume?” He complimented as he leaned in a bit closer to get a whiff.

“Yes, I bought it for her. Right babe?” Your man Richard said caressing your back. Jack had visions of smacking his hand away. “So fussy this one, but I know what my woman wants.” Richard said looking directly at Jack.

“Did you know she wants to go hiking all over Europe this summer?” Jack said intentionally as you told him your boyfriend didn’t know yet because he wouldn’t like it. “I’m all for it. I think that’s great!” Jack said overly enthusiastic.

“Yeah…sounds wonderful. Whatever my baby wants” Richard said through gritted teeth knowing what Jack was doing.

“Y/n let me show you the jacuzzi and the studio” Jack said taking you by the arm “Don’t mind if I steal her for a second do you?” Jack asked Richard as he was already walking away with you.

“No problem, we have to leave soon anyway.” Richard said knowing he couldn’t look like a chump in front of you.

“We do?” You said confused as Jack led you away.

PART 5

Jack gave you a tour of his place. You were in awe of all the details that went into everything from the artwork to the marble flooring. “See? You’re so inspiring Jack. Look what you’ve accomplished.” You said as he showed you to his studio in the basement. You hadn’t noticed he locked the door.

“Y/n...” Jack said knowing he didn’t have much time to let you know what he was going through the last few months and maybe even showing you.

“Before you say anything Jack, why did you tell Richard what I told you in confidence?” You asked slightly irritated. You clued in there was some type of pissing contest happening between them, but you didn’t know it was about you.

“Richard doesn’t deserve you.” Said Jack cutting to the chase as he knew Richard was going to come looking for you, but he had the guys running interference.

“What? Of course he does. He’s successful in his own right and a good person. He went on a mission in Africa you know.” You defended

“Of course he fucking did.” Jack said rolling his eyes “My foundation does a lot to help my own backyard.” He said defending himself and his charity work.

“I’ve never taken that away from you Jack. What is all this competition with Richard about? Did you guys know each other before? Some back in the day beef?” You giggled.

Jack took a chance and pulled you close planting a kiss on you. “That’s what it’s about.” He said as your lips slowly parted.

“Jack I…oh my god.” Your head was swimming as he backed you into a piano and it made a noise. He hoisted you on top of it and caressed your thigh exposed by the slit of your dress as he leaned in to kiss you more. You grabbed a handful of chestnut curls as he kissed down your neck and in between your chest wanting to devour you whole. He had held in his feelings since the beginning.

He was interrupted by a text from Sunni. Richard slipped away from them to go to the bathroom as they had him cornered talking sports and giving him his 3rd drink in 20mins trying to get him hammered and send him home…alone. For the most part it was working.

“Fuck!” Jack blurted out

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t be doing this with you!” You said trying clumsily to get off the piano.

“Relax.” Jack said easily holding you back with one hand. “Your man is on the prowl for you. The studio is off limits so he’ll be going around in circles anyway.”

Just then Copelan sent him a video clip of a tipsy Richard. “Yeah I’m just with her because she got that Phocus connection. I’m looking to do business, but Jack has it in for me. I know he likes her and why not share yuh know?”

You heard it all and looked stunned. “I’m sorry.” Jack said “I didn’t know he was using you to get to me. Jack called Copelan “Fuck him up and kick him out.” He ordered.

Upstairs Copelan, Phil, Sunni, Urban, and Twiggy surrounded Richard once he came back unable to find you. “That bitch!” He said “she’s probably fucking him right now!”

“What’d you say?” Sunni said “I didn’t quite hear you”

“I said that little slut is probably somewhere fucking… ……….” Sunni knocked Richard out before he could finish. The boys dragged him outside and tossed him out into the hallway. “My keys! Give me my keys and my phone!” Richard yelled. Security escorted him out of the building and put him in a waiting Uber.

“Y/n, are you ok?” Jack said cradling your face in his hand.

“No. I’m not ok Jack.” You said as tears started to come.

“Baby I’m so sorry.” Jack said comforting you, but you were angry.

“I’m nobody’s baby!” You yelled, you men are something else. Everything is a game to you!” You shouted hitting Jack’s chest. He let you let off steam.

“I was never using you.” Jack said seriously holding you back from continuing to hit him. “I’m in love with you.”

You stopped struggling and went limp in his arms. “What?” You said softly

“Y/n, I have been fighting my feelings for months because I’m your boss and you have a man…well had.” Jack said “and I’m not the easiest person to be with given my occupation.”

“I would never guess you would even like me” you said looking at him in wonder.

“Well I do. I knew your man was a chump but not this much of a chump.” Jack said consoling you. “I suppose we’ll have to pick up where we left off another time?”

“I knew what I was doing when I knew I had a man. Now….I don’t have one, but I still have a boss.” You said giving Jack a slight smile.

“Well then your fucking fired” Jack said as he got on top of you on the couch and felt his way up your dress pushing your panties aside and gently playing with your clit.

You moaned and adjusted under him to give him easier access. “You’re not the only one that’s been hiding feelings.” You breathed as you fumbled for the bulge in his pants.

“Well I know how you feel now.” Jack said as he brought his fingers up from between your thighs and under your dress glistening with your “feelings” on his finger tips, but suddenly he stopped. “Listen y/n I would love to take advantage of how angry you are at Richard right now, but let’s do this right some other time ok?”

“Whatever you say Jack.” Thinking it for the best as well and flattered he thought enough of you to want to have your first time the right way. “Jack am I still fired?” You asked

“Yes.” He said smiling and kissing you

“Good.” You giggled 🤭

[whitedragoncoranth]

Kirathian Dragon Ieesha

Sleep

She doesn't like it when I wear night-clothes; pyjamas, dressing-gowns, robes, or what-have-you. As I step towards the center of the room, where she lays upon the Fleece Pile, waiting for me, one enormous, midnight-blue eye opens and she growls softly, before uttering a soft, yet still commanding chirrup. "Do I have to?" I ask. "It's going to be cold tonight."

Snorting softly, she nods sharply, then utters a commanding chirrup in her language, Hii'Kirrta. Well I say commanding chirrup, but the sound she utters is in fact a word that roughly translates as "[away/gone]" as that is what she wants. Giving her a look of long-suffering - to which she snorts and rolls her eyes - I concede to her wishes.

Her eyes are on me as I hastily strip down, but her gaze is neither judgemental, nor lustful; instead, her gentle eyes are concerned as she watches the reveal of my human body; lithe, toned, littered here and there with the odd scar from combat, countless battles against the Zerg. A "gary-stu god" I am not. As naked as the day I was born, shivering in the coolness of the room, I step towards her, her amusement filling my thoughts as she uncurls herself just enough.

Stepping over her tail, I sit down against her enormous, golden-bronze body, then lay back against her side as she "closes" her curl and flops a wing over my body like a blanket, covering my nakedness such that only my head is visible, if at all. Now, surrounded by the warm, musty comfort of her body, I'm no longer cold; the warmth of her higher body temperature suffuses every part of me.

~That's better,~ she states, quietly. ~I like the feel of you against me; your skin against my hide. Why is it you still insist on wearing those garments at night? I am with you; you do not need them anymore.~ Due to the bond we shared - and her gradual attuning to me as time went on - there was much she understood; or... at least, seemed to understand.

When we were around other humans, she had no quarrel with the human concepts of privacy and modesty; she understood that she could not, for example, follow me into a toilet or a bathroom--and not just due to her size! However, for all the human - or at least human-like qualities she'd gained - I was reminded often that she of course wasn't human; there were times when she seemed utterly alien.

She knew about bathing, taking a bath, for example, and let me do so--but the moment we were away from other humans she would nip, softly, and persistently, at my clothing, wanting me to strip; then when I was nude she would insist on licking me clean, bathing me with her saliva, rubbing her muzzle all over me.

She stated it was because she didn't trust the chemically processed and filtered-clean water of human cities; but I suspected that it was something to do with scent; that she wanted her scent on me, perhaps to ward off other female Kirathian Dragons. When I had a quiet word to her about this, she shook her head and laughed--but that was then. Back to now.

Laying there with her, her great body curled, her wing over me, I feel her purr; then I feel the dampness of her tongue as she lick-grooms my hair, licks sweat from my forehead; then the warmth of her breath washes over my head and face as she exhales. As she moves her head such that her eyes meet mine, still to this day I wonder why she is even with me. She could just... fly away and find a dragon lifemate. Why does she stay with me? What on Earth does she see in me?

~Silly human~ she chides me, gently, ~we know this. My kind were built... made... - the word you use would be "engineered" - to be the companions of humans. Others, my kin, have their humans, but I was designed for you. Engineered for you. Only for you. My human. My lifemate. You are mine, and I am yours--and I love you so very much...~ Drawing her head unto my body I hug her as best I can, kiss her muzzle gently again and again, whisper to her that I love and adore her in return because it is true. Then, a soft good night, and together, we close our eyes and sleep.

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

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[hoodieofholland]

hey love. I’m obsessed with mob!tom - could you write something where mob Tom and the reader have a really big fight and Tom says something that was really mean and reader storms out and doesn’t come back until late and night and Tom is super worried :) at the beginning angst and at the end fluff.

I actually asked other writers too to write this a while ago but nobody does it and I found your account now and I’m so in love with your writing you are super talented <3

Sorry if my English is not really good- it’s not my first language

A/n: dear anon, you were reading my mind! I was actually procrastinating with a draft of some angst with mob!tom for a while, and you just motivated me to write it again hahah im obsessed with mob!tom too btw, no shame on this lol. Thanks for requesting, hope you like it!

Masterlist Request/tell me your thoughts on this

Warnings bellow the cut!

Warnings: angst, language, mention of gun.

You throw your purse over the table as you storm inside the house, walking up to your room with a stern face, straightened back and confident steps, without saying a word. Tom watched you from behind, sighing as he knew what was about to come - you were pissed.

He followed you slowly, not wanting to hurry the fight that was about to come. He knew pretty well what he has done tonight, but wasn’t planning on apologize, as he was also sure he wasn’t wrong about it.

By the time he reached the main room, you were already in the closet, taking off your jewels and putting them inside their boxes. “Baby”, he called you, but you didn’t raise your head.

Your gesturing was obviously stating your humor - or the lack of it. You wasn’t being so careful with the expensive belongings, as you always made sure to be.

“Baby”, Tom tried again, sighing this time, “Can you at least tell me what the hell did I do?”

That was the breakpoint. You lifted your head to look at him sternly. “Seriously? You gonna really act like you don’t know?”

He snorts, running a hand through his brown curls. “I mean, I know. I just don’t get why you’re so upset about it”

You laugh humorless. “I’m upset ‘cause you fucking treated me like a doll, Tom. That’s why I’m upset about it!”

“What?”, he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck, I just told that asshole of a waiter to get his shit together instead of eye-fucking you. For God’s sake, what’s wrong with that?”

"Well, maybe the fact that you made a scene in front of the manager because you were jealous?" You shout, shaking your hands. "Should I tell you the obvious fact that this man is probably fired now because of your speech?".

Tom was growing mad. He couldn't believe you were defending the guy who was flirting with you the whole dinner.

Turns out that what was supposed to be a calm and relaxing dinner quickly became something distasteful, as Tom took notice of the waiter that was serving your table that night looking at you with a dumb smile on his face the entire time. He could even see the guy talking to some other workers about you, staring at you like you were some kind of meal. So Tom did what he thought was right - he made it very clear that you were his girl and a employee shouldn't be looking at you like that.

"I don't give a single fuck if he's unemployed right now. He should take this as a lesson to not disrespect you or any other woman in his workplace", Tom said, undoing his tie and throwing it in anywhere in the wardrobe. He was tired and pissed with the whole situation - and, more important, with you, for making a big deal out of it.

"Disrespect me, or disrespect you, Tom?", you snap, eyes wide with anger. "Cause it didn't look like you were worried about me. Cause all I wanted was a peaceful dinner with my boyfriend, who actually never seems to be available to me, and you made it pretty hard for me to enjoy, just because you were mad for a guy possibly be flirting with your girl! Like I fucking belonged to you!"

"Oh, fuck off, y/n", he hissed, walking past the closet's door and going straight to the bathroom. "It's obvious I'd be pissed for the it too. You're my girl, and I don't think it's nice if other man look at you like that! Don't act like you've never done it too".

You followed him, yelling next. "Shit, you're unbelievable! What is it? Nobody can look at Tom Holland's girl? Because you're the great motherfucker mobster and I'm your fucking prize?"

Tom turned his body to glance at you again. He pointed a finger at you, eyes serious and penetrating. "I've never said it. That's not how I see this".

"Oh, really? So you care to explain me why do you keep doing that? We barely spend time together now, Tom, and when we finally get to have a nice night out, you make sure to state that I'm yours and that no other man can lay an eye on me", you sniff, unable to keep the cracked voice from coming out and show how upset you felt about it. "I don't like to feel that I'm waiting for you like a goddamn doll, Tom".

"Well, darling, I'm sorry if I'm not being enough, but that's how real world works", his voice is cold and he is avoiding looking into your eyes, his jaw clenched in a way that make it clear that he's not satisfied with the conversation's rumor. "I made it pretty clear when we first met that my job doesn't allow me to be here the entire time, so what the fuck do you expect me to do? Or do you think that this nice house and the maids, and all the fucking jewels I give you come for free? Tell me, y/n, what the hell you want from me?"

You watch his usually soft features whenever you were around turning into the one he used with his men. The veins in his neck visible, his pupils huge and thin lips trembling with anger. Tom has never spoken to you that way, and you could feel the pressure on your chest with the pain from his harsh words.

A couple of tears rolled down your cheeks and you were quick to rub them away with the back of your hand. Noticing the way you pressed your lips together lightly, Tom's face softened and he realized his posture and tone.

"I don't- I don't know, Tom", you say in a low, croaky voice. "Think I just wanted us to be a couple. I'm truly sorry if that's too much to ask you for".

His heart pained at your words and he took a few steps in your direction. "Darling, no, that's not what I-"

You stopped him, putting your arm in front of you and shaking your head. "No, that's exactly what you wanted to say. I don't know what I had in mind when we started dating, nor what I was thinking when I agreed to move in here, but I don't want to be between you and your job anymore".

He stared at you, unaware of what you were about to do, thinking about what to say. He didn't want to fight with you like that, but didn't want you to think that what you've said is true neither.

You walked past him and straight to the closet again, picking up your suitcase and grabbing a few clothes from the wardrobe. Tom watched you for a few seconds, startled, and then started to panic.

"What are you doing?"

You ignored him, trying to think what you'd possibly need to get to stay out tonight. You could get the rest of your things later, but right now you just wanted to get out of that house.

"Y/n, love, what are you doing?" He asked in desperation, reaching your arm and trying to pull you away from the wardrobe, but you just shrugged his touch off.

"What does it look like? I'm leaving, Tom! If you can't conciliate our relationship with your job, then I guess I have nothing to do here anymore". You say through gritted teeth.

"What?!" He breathed out. "Darling, you can't leave like-"

"Don't you fucking call me darling!"

Tom stops and stares at you, blinking. His mouth is agape, trying to get his thoughts together. You didn't stop packing, and when he saw the determination in your actions, he simply couldn't contain the anger growing on his chest.

"Know what? Go. Leave me! Get the fuck out of this house. I don't fucking care!" He yelled, and you jumped slightly at the sound of his guttural voice.

You wiped some of new tears and nodded once, not minding to get anything else as you closed your suitcase and walked out of the room, hands shaking from the emotions you were so hardly trying to refrain.

But before you could step out of the room and go down on the stairs, you turn around to see he stagnant at the same spot. "Fuck you, Tom. You can take all this damn jewelry. Take this, the clothes, and everything else you bought me. If I can't have you, these don't mean a single thing to me. I'm not a fucking doll, Tom".

You left, and he couldn't move for minutes straight.

*********

The night passed by and Tom didn't hear from you. He checked his phone more times than he liked to admit, but you didn't answer any calls, any messages. Nothing. He didn't even realize what time he fell asleep on the couch, waiting for some sort of sign from you, but in the morning, when he rolled out of it, his heart pounded in his chest at the realization that you were nowhere to be seen.

He asked Harrison, his best mate and the second person you most chatted with in the house, if he has seen you, but he didn't have anything. So Tom waited, trying to focus on his work for the morning and the evening, as he thought that maybe you just wanted some time to think clearer. He regretted saying those things to you already, knowing that none of that was true. Obviously he did care if you were there in the morning. He wanted to wake up with you by his side like every other day. It was all that mattered for him after all. Not the money, not the jewel, not the house. It all didn't make sense when you weren't there.

And he felt so sick thinking that you truly believed he was seeing you as a prize, as a doll that would stand beautifully waiting for him at the end of the day. He knew he should have persisted and said that you weren't right, that he loved you so much that he could take a bullet for you, right on his chest. He'd do anything for you, but didn't seem to know how to put that in words when it comes to a fight.

"Fuck!" He shouted when alone in his office, hands collapsing on the desk. It was past seven at night and he hadn't heard from you. A whole fucking day. He asked Harrison to send the men to look for you. He wouldn't force you coming back home, but he needed to be sure you were alright.

All the bad thoughts he could have were now successfully running through his mind and driving him nuts. He thought that maybe some rival mobster could have laid eyes on you, all by yourself, and tried to do something. You could be in serious danger right now, and Tom wouldn't forgive himself if that was the case.

He took a drink. He needed to clear his mind as time was passing by and his men didn't have any information about you. Your phone would be filled with unanswered calls from him, even voicemail telling you he was sorry and would do anything if you only called him back to say you were doing fine.

"Please, love, if you're listening to it... fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I'm a dumbass, and you don't have to forgive me, but, please, just let me know you're fine and I'll give you your time. Just- please. I need to hear from you, y/n", he recorded, a drink on his hand and the other holding his phone firmly.

When it was 9pm, he decided he was going out to look for you himself. He just couldn't sit there waiting for a call or for his men do to something - he needed to take that pressure of his chest and no one was helping.

He took his gun, called Harrison and a few more man before heading to the living room.

"Alright, we have a few more places left" Tom started his instructions, while shoving his gun at the back of his trousers. "Harrison and I are going to her family's house. You two check in her old friend's place. Doesn't matter how far it is, I don't want you two to come back until you've looked through that fucking town-"

"Tom", Harrison cut him off, coughing a bit to get his attention. He was about to snap at him, when he followed his gaze.

And there you were, standing at the door frame in the living room, a confused expression on your face as you tried to understand what was going on in the middle of the room. Usually, Tom never had meetings in any other area than the conference room.

"What's going on?", you asked bluntly, and Tom releases a deep and relieved breath, so audible that you couldn't not take notice of.

"God, you're here", he breathed out, walking towards you in large steps. You were still mad, but also so confused with his reaction that you couldn't stop him from holding you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, darling, where were you?".

Besides his words being a bit harsh, his voice was soft and caring, worried if anything. He didn't let go of you first, kissing the top of your head for a long minute.

Harrison smiled a little seeing the both of you and dismissed the men out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Sorry, you don't need to explain", Tom shook his head and pulled away to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, a dark circle around it. He brushed your cheeks with the pad of his thumb and furrowed. "Are you okay, though?"

"Yeah, I am- but what was going on?", you insisted.

Tom cupped your face on his hands, still not believing that you were there again. "I was so fucking worried. I thought that something was off, you didn't answer any of my messages or calls... I was heading to a drive with my men to look for you".

You blink a few times, startled that Tom was so concerned all this time.

"I was in a hotel room, actually", you chew in your lower lip, kind of ashamed that you put him through such a concern. "Needed to be alone for a time, so I turned my phone off".

Tom pressed his forehead against yours. "It doesn't matter anymore, darling. It was all my fault", his voice was croaky and you felt your heart pounding inside your chest. "I should never have said those things to you-"

"It's alright, Tom-"

"No, it's not", he shook his head. "Cause it was all lies. I do fucking care if you leave me. I wouldn't stand being away from you, my love. You're everything, everything. And you're right, I don't spend much time with you, and it eats me alive, cause that's what makes me happy, being around you. All I ever wanted was to make you happy, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry if I haven't shown you how much you mean to me..."

"Shhh, Tom", you closed your eyes, hugging him by the neck and bringing him closer. "It's okay, I know it. I wasn't thinking straight too, I know you don't treat me like that. I was just too pissed, and yeah, I'd like to spend more time together, but it's alright that you don't-"

He cut you by a sweet kiss pressed on your lips, "Nothing is more important for me than you. I was too mad with that thing in the restaurant to say it right away, but I'll try harder. I'm gonna be here with you, no matter what. Work can wait".

You sigh and pull him closer, breathing his comforting scent.

"My lovely girl", Tom sighs and smile a bit. "You scared the hell out of me".

"You deserved it, idiot" you said and he laughed quietly.

"I love you, darling", he stroked your back, hiding his face in the crock of your neck. "Always".

"Love you too, Tommy".

You spent the rest of the night together, having a nice and cozy dinner at home. Tom never smiled wider than that night, and the following others were fulfilled with his promise - there was always time in your day to spend alone with your boyfriend.

*******

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds

@pinkrockstar19

@onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove

@hollands-taste

@zspideyy

[scenariosbutmakeitgay]

(Jahad x Reader) Young Jahad is an adventurous man, extremely ambigous and he meets Y/n, who's an extremely carefree person that is also climbing the tower, but at an slow pace. Y/n catches his attention and now he wants to drag Y/n with him as he climbs the tower, but she is sadly tough to handle with since she's very carefree and hard to find and as well as a person unmotivated to climb the tower. So, what does the young Jahad do? Peace was never an option, so kidnapping is the way to go!

here you go anon, I gotta admit I started writing it around october last year and finally took the time to finish it properly~

-

Fear of the unknown was either created with the human race or had existed even before it. The greatest dangers always came from the outside and the Tower obeyed this rule like no other. Yet Jahad didn't fear the unknown. He preferred describing his nature as a rather predatorish being and while some tried running away from the unfamiliar, he didn't. Jahad was the unknown. And the Tower was about to face the worst of its fears.

Some people were afraid of the dark. Or maybe not even the dark, more of what remained hidden in it. Yet when you looked at the night sky, shimmering with trillions of shiny stars, it seemed more calming than scary. During all those years you've spent on the outside, you managed to familiarize yourself with the eeriest of its quirks. The unknown wasn't scary – it was alluring. With each day it lost more of its mysteriousness, though. That became the main reason why you entered the Tower in the first place. Climbing its floors – each of them differing from the previous one – was like a fresh breeze. There was nothing rushing you to go farther, and nothing holding you down. Freedom.

Your paths crossed for the first time quite a long time ago – neither of you could pinpoint exactly when it happened. Ever since that day, Jahad appeared in your life every now and again. It would be proper to describe that relationship as two forces existing independently, yet still affecting one another in many ways.

“You should join me,” suggested Jahad after one of the many encounters. “It’s faster to climb alongside others.”

“I’m not interested,” you replied simply, not giving the idea much thought. “I’ll manage it at my own pace just fine.”

The disappointment was visibly plastered on the man’s face, but he didn’t insist. Jahad looked at you one last time as if silently hoping you would change your mind, but when it didn’t happen, he turned his back and left. You smiled lazily, satisfied with regaining your peace and quiet, and aimed your walk in the opposite direction. The floor still had many secrets left to conquer.

After that, all became a blur. You recalled falling asleep under the fabricated sky, warm wind tenderly whispering near your ear like a mother singing a lullaby to her newborn, hoping it would calm it down. When you woke up, the surroundings remained dark. Not in the way the night bears very little light to itself, nor how you close your eyes and drown into the comfortable nothingness. It was as if someone stole all the stars and forcefully ripped your eyelids open, making you feel hatred towards darkness yet simultaneously miss it terribly.

“Are you awake?” a voice called, unsettlingly close to your ear. “I know you are, if you promise to behave, I’ll take off the blindfold.”

A blindfold. Suddenly you could feel the rough fabric scratching your face, every sensation coming off as twice as strong as it should be. Obscuring someone from a sense really did make the other ones overly sensitive.

“I promise,” you agreed, not having any better options left.

Then there was shuffling, breathing getting closer, a bunch of not exactly delicate tucks on the fabric, and you were finally able to see again. You sighed in relief, carefully observing the environment, trying to register where you were.

“I apologize for the methods, but I could not allow you to wake up before we were in the proper location. It would only cause unnecessary turmoil,” the man next to you stated matter-of-factly.

You recognized him in an instant.

“Jahad.”

“Correct,” he sent you a dim smile, taking a step back as he noticed your body language becoming more defensive.

“Why did you take me here?! And where exactly is ‘here’, too?!” you could feel your voice getting almost an octave higher like it had a will on its own, refusing to be controlled by anyone.

“Where we are isn’t relevant. All I want from you is to join me in climbing the Tower. It’s not that big of a request, is it?” he asked, but his tone indicated he wasn’t really looking for any answer. “We’re taking the test tomorrow, so I hope you’re prepared.”

Without wasting much time familiarizing you with the details, he left. All you wanted to do was close your eyes, go to sleep, and hope for it to be just a bad dream. But you didn’t.

The darkness didn’t feel safe anymore.

[rodeo-boots]

Idk who all you write for--but I see your requests are open, and I'd love some Hosea x reader (gender neutral or female) and maybe some nsfw? I'm open to anything, be it vanilla to kink--write what you want! Or, if you dont write hosea, maybe you could write some for Javier x reader? Anything at all 💙💙💙 I love your work!

I've written Hosea for the first time here, so hopefully I could do him justice. Thanks for the request, I hope you'll like the result!

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2065

AO3

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"What are you reading there?" You stepped closer, your head tilted in curiosity, approaching Hosea where he sat at the table. It was still early morning, the chill not yet gone from the air, the rich scent of coffee spreading from Pearson's wagon.

"Oh, Good Morning." Hosea looked up at you, a kind smile shaping on his face as you placed a hand upon his shoulder to peer over it. "Actually, it's Notre-Dame de Paris, written by a French-man."

You quirked a brow, sitting down on the table-top in front of him. "Is it in French?"

A nod. Your curiosity spiked further.

"You can speak French?" Now, whatever sleepiness might've clouded your brain was gone for good, your stare trained on Hosea in expectancy of an answer.

The man chuckled, closing the book and putting it down on the table, almost sheepishly reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Well, you learn some things travelin' as much as we did," he explained, though it was clear that wouldn't diminish your amazement. As far as you knew, neither Dutch nor Arthur had picked up any foreign languages on their way here.

"I picked up some words here and there, and before I knew it, I got through an entire book of these funny words." He patted the novel upon the table, crossing his legs when he leaned back.

"You surprise me every day," you spoke, hearing him chuckle yet again, looking up to catch the subtle shake of his head. You risked a glance into the book, flipping through a couple of pages, though the words upon the paper made little sense to you. "Could you teach me?" You asked, finding his stare once more. "It looks like nonsense now, but it'd probably be fun... learning a new language."

His eyes grew gentle, Hosea placing his hand over yours to squeeze it. You've noticed before, how cold his palms used to feel these days, but he wouldn't take your concern. "Later, my dear," he promised you, running his thumb over your knuckles. "First, we got work to do." And with that, he nudged you in encouragement, pushing himself off the chair in the next moment to start into the day.

After fleeing from Blackwater as sudden as you had to, most of your and the other's belongings had to be left behind. You could only guess that most things you have once held dear were now in the hands of Pinkertons, possibly scattered all around your former campsite and destroyed. But there had been no time to grief before. And what mattered now was that you got back onto your legs, the entire gang left in disarray after your previous hopes had been shut down so swiftly.

You didn't hate working, had no problem putting in the extra effort to make this camp into as much of a home as could be. It was only a faint hope, staying here for longer than a couple weeks a time, but at the moment, it was what you had left to hold onto, and with Dutch's certainty about his plans, who were you to raise your voice?

The day drew to an end before you knew it, the hay bales you had moved to the horses for the evening barely visible to your eyes by now. With a soft exhale, you reached up to wipe sweat from your brow, glad that the cold couldn't bother you much with all the exercise you've done.

Footsteps behind you alerted you of someone's presence, your head turning in time to focus on Hosea. A smile shaped upon your lips.

You still remembered the promise he had spoken in the morning hours, certain that with the day now done, you had plenty of time for a good language lesson.

"Excusez-moj, chèrie," he spoke sweetly, guiding his arms around your waist from behind, not planning to startle you in the slightest. He smiled against your neck, holding you close and gentle, the little hairs standing at attention upon your skin. "I don't mean to keep you from your tasks," he added, still keeping his arms in place. Although clearly, you had no issue with that.

"I'm all done here," you answered, leaning back in his embrace, placing your own hands above his on your front. "But I don't know how much knowledge I can absorb just now." A soft laugh escaped your lips, head tilting to find Hosea's gaze briefly. "Today's work has worn me out, I must say."

He hummed lightly, thoughtfully. "Now, what could we do about that?" His words drove heat to your cheeks, the sound of his voice reverberating through your entire being. You knew what he was alluding to, always able to decipher when he got into this very special mood.

"I reckon you'd still like a lesson, n'est-ce pas?" A shiver ran down your spine, your throat suddenly feeling rather dry. You nodded either way, eager to see where he was planning to take this.

Hosea released you, casting a look over his shoulder in contemplation, aware that John had taken his guarding post not too far from your location. "Not here," he said, gently taking your arm to lead you back into camp, your brow quirking when he gestured for John's tent.

"What would he say to that?" You chuckled, entering it still. After all the years you've known Hosea, he's constantly shown himself as more adventurous than a glance at him might indicate, keeping you on your toes with everything he came up with. This site surely wasn't the most outlandish you've loved one another in.

"I've given it to him, so I can use it should the need arise," Hosea answered easily, closing the tent flaps behind you. "Besides, he won't ever have to know," the man added, cupping your cheeks in his hands to bring you close for a kiss, a sigh slipping past your lips at his passionate movements.

Everything happened in a blur after the initial touch of your lips, clothing falling to the floor as Hosea led you towards the bed, shedding the fabric upon his frame just as well. You plopped down on the cot with a shaky laugh, trying to catch his lips again, though he got to his knees in front of you instead, peering up at you with ardor glinting in his eyes.

"You gonna speak French between my legs?" You giggled, your voice playful and cocky. It seemed to pique his interest.

"If that is what you so desire," he answered, cold palms running up the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to spread them for him in the next moment.

You bit down on your lower lip, your eyes glued to your sweetheart upon his knees, hands slipping into his short hair. A warm gust of air was what you felt first, as he leaned down, teasing you by kissing a trail up your thigh, moving on to the other one whilst pointedly ignoring your aching middle. "Hosea," you couldn't keep yourself from whining, fingers tightening in his hair.

He shushed you softly, glancing up at your face for a second before returning to his ministrations, the muscles in your stomach rippling the closer he got to your core. "Please–" your voice cut off into a soft moan, the sound entirely satisfied with his lips finding their target, kissing right where you needed to be kissed. Your eyes fluttered shut on their own, laying back to let Hosea work his magic, the sounds from your lips turning higher and sweeter with every precise swirl of his tongue.

Hosea used his fingers with equal precision, gently working you open around him, poking and prodding at all the spots that heightened your pleasure.

Could you speak any French, you would've encouraged him in the language he's taught himself, but alas, all that left your mouth were coos and mewls. You were melting beneath him, certain that there was no way for you to endure much longer, the pleasure within your core becoming unbearable to handle. "Darling, I'm gonna--" you warned him, the sound of your voice met with the sensations stopping altogether, a groan rumbling through your chest in frustration.

As much as you didn't want this moment to come to an end, you've been close just now– impossibly so, throwing an arm over your eyes when Hosea crawled over you. The breath still rang shakily through your lungs, your eyes not yet meeting his when he kissed his way up your body, running his palms over your sides until your skin perked up with goosebumps.

"Ne désespère pas," he whispered, mouthing his way up to your ear for his words to resound through you, another soft whine leaving your lips. Hosea pushed the arm away from your eyes, kissing the back of your hand before he entangled his fingers with your own. "Hello there," he smiled at you, your eyes peeking open to return the gesture in kind.

"Are you ready for more?" He asked softly, caressing your cheek with his free hand, his stomach resting in between your legs, a shift of your hips enough to offer you some much needed friction.

"S-Sí." You had tried, at least, to show him that you knew some words yourself.

Hosea chuckled gently, his thumb running over your jaw. "That would be Spanish," he pointed out, though there was no mocking edge to his tone, a breathless laugh leaving your own lips at the realization.

He kissed you once more, squeezing your fingers before getting to his legs, pulling your hips to the edge of the cot. His eyes found yours when he pushed inside, his own lips parting at the feeling of your tight walls around him.

Your legs found their way around his hips, settling there as if it were the only place for them to be, your breaths rattling in your chest. Hosea gave you time to adjust, careful and considerate as always, reaching down between your legs to touch you softly, purposefully keeping his ministrations brief and teasing.

"If only you'd know how good you're feelin'," he muttered, looking down at you as if he beheld a masterpiece, though to him, that was just what you were. "My beautiful darling."

He started moving slowly, rolling his hips for his cock to move deeper into you, drawing back and letting you feel his entire length with the next thrust forward. You moaned, grasping for his hands again to link your fingers, needing something to hold onto when he quickened his pace.

Soon enough, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the tent, possibly filtering through the thin walls as well, though neither of you held much of a care for that. You rocked back against his every movement, getting lost in the ardor surrounding you as your nails dug into the back of his hand. "Hosea–" his name was a mantra upon your lips by now, repeated like a prayer, with every time sounding more desperate than the last.

You were getting close all over again, feeling your orgasm build in your loins, your spine curving in an attempt to receive more friction at your sex. "Please, make me cum." He had to be getting close himself, thrusts turning more hurried and sloppy, his own voice raising in clear enjoyment.

"Of course, my dear," he stuttered only the slightest bit, reaching down to pleasure you as you had wished, angling his hips just right to hit that sweet spot within you. "Go'head," he encouraged, continuously fucking into you as the motions of his hand quickened, intended to drive you over the edge and beyond.

"Je veux vous entendre," he grunted, the sound of his French sending you spiraling out of control, your walls pulsating around him as your orgasm hit you like a train.

You cried out in delight, tossing your head back as he spent himself inside of you, driven to fulfillment by the feeling of you coming around him. He panted, propping his arms up on either side of your head as the pleasant aftershocks raked his body, his cock sporadically twitching inside of you.

Eventually, Hosea pulled out of you, sinking onto the cot by your side, his chest rising and falling as he gradually caught his breath. "Now that wasn't what I had planned for today's lesson."

[chipper-smol]

Vanilla 2 Chain

Prompt: Hollow experiences phantom limb syndrome 

is more angst time

( https://twitter.com/Perfidy19  )

Nothing lasts forever.

That was the last lesson the Hollow Knight received from their father upon being sealed away in the Black Egg Temple.

Nothing lasts. Not Hallownest. Not the Radiance. Not Father.

Not even the Void, as they had discovered during the time they were sealed away, watching as the Infection searing within their arm at last tore away the final, stretched strands. A silent snap, and the detached limb fell to the floor, sinking into the ground in a pool of writhing ink.

It was then that they had realised, finally, the irony of their predicament, the stump left behind burning with the searing rage of the Old Light.

If even the all encompassing Void did not last, then Hallownest’s perpetuation was truly an impossible wish.

They lamented the irony of it all once again, now as they sat hunched over in their current resting spot, in the corner of an abandoned village home. Ironic, how the very one who had wished the most fervently for an eternal kingdom, would also be the one to teach them the inevitability of the end.

The stump where the Infection had once burned now throbbed.

Yes. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the knowledge that they had once believed timeless meant much in the end. The court manners? Hallownest’s upper class was dead, rules hardly mattered anymore. The training their father, the Pale King, had bestowed upon them? Pointless. They barely even had the strength to stand up. The only, right way to deal with the Infection?

Clearly, that information had been wrong from the start, seeing as how their rejected sibling had found another way to do away with it entirely, while they had only managed to buy time.

“Do you want something to eat, Hollow?”

They raised their head at the sound. Hornet scuttled in through the door, her needle clenched in her fist, a bundle of… something wedged under her arm.

“I did not know what your preference was,” she tipped the contents of the bundle onto the floor. Two speared tiktiks and some baby gruzzers rolled onto a bed of dried nuts and grass. “So I brought a bit of everything. But the gruzzers need some treatment before they can be eaten, so-“

Hollow listened as she talked, her bustling, business-like manner reminding them strongly of the late Queen of Deepnest. Hornet had changed since they had last seen her. No longer the scampering grub that they remembered, she had grown up into a fine hunter, perfectly capable of defending herself.

To think that she had once been no taller than the hilt of their nail, wielding a toy needle made of shellwood. It had been amusing to watch her run around the White Palace, full of energy and free from the stiff formalities of the Royal Retainers around her.

Endearing. Inquisitive. A bit of a troublemaker, but her mischief never put anyone in harm's way. They fondly recalled the days when she would take their nail and attempt to swing it around in the same fashion as the Great Nailsage, her little legs teetering under its weight.

Father had never liked when she did that. While Mother merely watched in amusement, he would personally confiscate the nail, then proceed to sternly lecture her on the dangers of sharp, metal objects. Not that she listened.

Father had not liked it either when Hollow was about to learn the way of the nail. Clumsy, he had called them. Without a mind, he claimed, it would be difficult to teach them to properly balance and swing the weapon, let alone fight with it.

And he had been right too. A long time they had spent practicing alone in secret, repeatedly thrashing the heavy training nail up and down, up and down all through the night, trying to imitate the way the Great Knight Dryya had done it.

Up and down, up and down, the weight of the training nail dragging heavy on their arms, the pain of lifting it twisting at their spell hand, the strain tearing through their shell, through their Void, through the bright, bright orange light that-

“-can you even eat?”

Hollow twitched in surprise, shaking their head clear of the pained haze originating from the stump of their arm.

“No? Well…” Hornet stared down disappointed at the small pile of food she had collected for them. “I suppose I’d never seen the little ghost eat before.”

The look of hurriedly concealed distress on her face was familiar, and made them feel ashamed of worrying her. They raised their a- ... their other arm from where it had been resting on their nail, and picked up one of the nuts. Delicately, they pretended to nibble on it, then hid it away within the Void inside their shell.

Hornet visibly brightened up.

“Oh! So you can. I was worried for a moment there. I’ll go get some more supplies, make this place more comfortable. Then, once you’re well and rested, we shall find a way up the well for a more permanent residence.”

Hollow nodded, then slumped back into their thoughts as Hornet ran out the door.

Thoughts. It was frightening to think that they had been… well, thinking, this whole time despite trying their best to stay empty. The one expectation from their father had had towards them had been simple. Do not think. Yet the act of thinking had become so natural to them that the idea of not thinking had become a notion in itself.

Perhaps that was why their sibling had succeeded where they had failed. They had not been empty enough, not pure enough. Where the Radiance’s angry cries should have fallen on deaf ears, they had instead listened, endured, resisted.

And then when she noticed, oh, she had been so very angry.

And so very pleased.

They could almost see it now, the glaring orange dreamscape blazing with her ancient fury. The floating pavilions bathed in flames, the endless fall through the burning sky. Her booming voice screaming down at them from above, echoing through the infinitely stretching space. Cursing them for all the things their Father did, and Hallownest did, and the moth tribe did.

Through the burning hellscape, her cold, glaring eyes stared right into them, chilling like ice, bright like the lighthouse down in the Abyss. Her eyes shone such cold, piercing light into them, through them, exposing them and their falseness.

I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.

They lifted their arm to fight back, to chase her away. They conjured glowing daggers at their fingertips and thr- no, they didn’t throw the daggers. They tried again, but they couldn’t throw the daggers, the daggers were still there, at their fingertips, in their fingertips. They were right there, building up soul energy focused into their hand, but they couldn’t let go, and it was there, building up, that searing white bubbling to molten orange and burning and burning right up to their shoulder and the world was burning and they were burning a-

“Hollow?”

They were once again torn away from their thoughts and the pain in their stump by Hornet gently shaking their arm (Their sword arm. Their spell arm was still gone. Still gone yet it was still there hurting, but it was gone).

She was worried now, that was bad. How did she know, when they had never uttered a word, had never been able to utter a word? Their mask was still expressionless… perhaps their body language? They realised that they had been shaking this whole time. Simply distracted from that fact by the persistent, burning throb in their shoulder.

They dipped their head. How shameful. To think that they used to be able to wait through days of longing for Mother and Father’s company, without displaying signs of being anything but empty. To be able to continue through their training under a facade of normalcy, despite their mask being on the verge of cracking. They had been able to endure years of the Radiance’s torment, all her terrible dreams and her screaming voice.

Yet now? It was just a lost arm, an old wound nonetheless, but it was already tearing them apart to the point of showing such a weakened side of them.

“You seem upset,” Hornet’s voice was gentle, a tone that they had not heard in a long time. “Are you alright?”

They began to shake their head, then nodded. Then slumped over.

“Yes? No? I don’t know?” Hornet sighed. Then, to their surprise, came to sit down next to them. “Are you lost?”

A sigh.

“I certainly feel lost, Hollow. Hallownest was gone. Now so is the Infection. And the little ghost, I… I can’t find them anywhere.”

Hesitantly, they patted her back.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Me neither.

A moment of silence. Then she glanced up.

“But you’re back.”

Hollow tilted their head.

“And that’s good, isn’t it?

Nothing lasts forever.

“You’re not the Pure Vessel, and I’m not the Princess of Deepnest.”

Not Hallownest.

“You don’t have to contain the Radiance anymore.”

Not the Radiance.

Her voice turned shaky.

“I don’t have to… put our siblings to rest anymore.”

Not… Father.

“We can do whatever we want.”

Nor the mindlessness of Void.

...

But none of that really mattered in the end, did it?

“That’s right. It’s alright. It hurts. All of it hurts, but...”

Hornet smiled, and put a hand on their shoulder. For a moment, it did not hurt quite so much anymore.

“We’ll work this out together, won’t we?”

( @hawaiianbabidoll​ )

( @alaska-ren​ )

Falling. Flawed. Forsaken. Forgotten. And that sickening, sweet glow of orange.

They deserved this punishment. Every damn second of this madness. It is their sin, it is their lie that caused all this. If they had come to their father and confessed, they would die. But death was a much better fate than ​this.

The irony. Their end was much like their other siblings’. Falling, eternal, until the inevitable crash.

They only wanted to save their father’s kingdom. Only wanted to make them all proud. Only wanted to be who they were supposed to be.

A failure.

It’s a sea. A constant sea of faces and expectations, with two becoming larger and larger as the years passed.

One pale shining light crowned with horns. One small shell with betrayed, black eyes.

It’s their fault. Gods, it’s their fault. It’s their fault they deserve this it hurts father pleaseithurtsIdon’twantthishelphelpfaultmyfaultmYFAULTIT’SMYFAULTFATHERIT’SMINEF ATHERFATHER F A T H E R

End        Me

                Fathe-

The Hollow Knight shot forward and reached for their nail, only finding a warm hand holding their wrist. Flowing, gentle red filled their vision and the warm hand placed theirs back on their lap.

“Sibling,” Hornet called out again, softer this time. “You’ve been dreaming.”

Hollow lowered their head, the void inside them pulsing and making their shell cold and trembling. Hornet hesitated, and with Hollow’s nod, sat beside them. Hollow stayed still, and would have placed a calm air if they could ever do it again at all. They had no more need to hide, so why...

“Sibling!”

“Troubled mind?” Hollow huffed and looked away when Hornet chuckled. “Care to let me in?”

My mind is a dark place, sister. I do not want you to be here.

Hornet’s eyes softened before crossing her legs and hugging her knees close. “Silent as ever, sibling.” The wind crawling through the dark caverns served as her only response.

“Do you regret this? All of this?” Hollow twisted their head and their wide eyes met tired ones. Their chest squeezed in anguish, sorrow, and grief. They were not the only casualty in this war between gods. They copied Hornet’s pose, and placed their head on their only arm.

... There are many things I wish I had done, but if I were given the choice to sacrifice myself once more for our future, I would do so in a heartbeat.

Perhaps it was their shared wyrm parentage, or their bond as siblings, or just pure intuition, but Hornet more than felt Hollow’s unspoken reply. “Oh, no,” she chuckled and shook her head, “No, no, no, I won’t let you do it again.” Hornet turned her body and fully faced the sibling she grew up with for so many years. “You will not sacrifice yourself again. Not to me. Not to any of us. Not to yourself.”

Hornet stayed quiet, eyes never leaving Hollow’s lowered head. Hollow didn’t have the energy to look at her anymore, to even lift their hand anymore. Both Hornet and they were born for a purpose. With that purpose stripped away, what are they?

“We were both children, sibling,” Hornet’s words carved through the silence, and struck right into Hollow’s soul. “Children are not meant to carry something as heavy as... this.”

“It is much easier to disappear, isn’t it?” Hollow’s eyes rose to look at Hornet’s cloak, too tired to look her in the eyes. They nodded, it is easier. If they disappeared, they wouldn’t think, wouldn’t feel. They’d be so much closer to being ‘pure’.

“You know, when you were sealed in the egg, when you disappeared... When... my mother disappeared,” Hollow swallowed a lump in their throat when a tiny crack shattered Hornet’s voice. She stopped her words and looked away. Hollow watched as she swiped at her eyes and took in deep breaths.

“I have watched this kingdom grow, fall, and die. I stayed when everyone left. I could have chosen to disappear as well, it would be so easy.”

“But that is not what it means to ​live.”​ Hornet moved and placed herself in front of Hollow, her red cloak billowing around her.

“Hollow, I want you to live.”

I do not know how.

Hollow’s silence was disturbed by the rustling of fabric. They watched as Hornet dusted herself off and in moments looked as the Princess Protector of Hallownest she always was.

“Then, do you think you can walk with me, sibling?”

The tilt of her head and bright determined eyes took hold of something in Hollow’s chest. Something warm.

I think... I can walk with you, sister.

Hornet stood and offered her hand, “Together?”

Together.

( @snakeyarts​ )

( @nonbinary-ghost​ )

Hornet let out an almost imperceptible sigh as they reached the hot springs, the damp air warm against her shell. The journey from the Black Egg Temple to the Crossroad’s Hot Springs was not a long one, but it had taken her more than a day to reach it given her… charge. 

Hornet glanced back at her sibling, something twisting in her shell at the sight of their battered form leaning heavily on their longnail by their one remaining arm. Their whole body shook as they panted for breath, bits of void leaking from the deep wounds in their side and the crack down their mask despite the bandages of webbing Hornet had applied. They way they slumped weakly, like an old rag doll with the stuffing worked out of its joints, made Hornet’s heart ache. They looked scant inches from death.

Hornet did her best to mask her worry, trying to exude an air of calm confidence as she stood upright, ever ready to dart forward to catch them if they stumbled. She urged them forward with a hand wave, hesitant to touch them for fear of causing them more harm. Sometimes, when hurt so gravely, it was best for one to move for oneself if possible, since one knew what ways would hurt.

The tension in Hornet’s shoulders eased only once she helped lower the once Hollow Knight into the warm waters of the hot spring, offering her hand for support as they unsteadily waded into the water. She watched in wonder as they visibly relaxed into the warmth, the flow of void leaking from their injuries slowing as white flickers of light began to float around them. Hornet was relieved to see that the graveness of their injuries did not render them completely immune to the regenerative properties of the hot springs and she finally allowed herself the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe…maybe they would be alright. 

She glanced down at the hard, cloak-wrapped bundle clutched under her arm. Carefully, as if afraid she’d break it further, Hornet unwrapped the shattered mask from the tattered grey cloak she’d swaddled it in. That strange, twisting feeling again clawed at her chest at the mask cracked perfectly in half cradled in her hands.

Ghost…

When she had swooped into the Black Egg Temple to aid them against their sibling, Hornet had possessed little hope for any of them to survive. At best, she’d hoped to defeat the Radiance, to vanquish the infection once and for all. At worst, she knew a slow, painful fall to the void or infection would be their only end as the Radiance’s calamity continued to blaze through what little remained of Hollownest. To be perfectly honest, she had thought hardly anything at all. She only knew there was an opening for her aid, a way to give Ghost the chance they needed to enter the Hollow Knight’s dream as they had with her mother. Survival had been, frankly, the last thing on her mind. 

Yet, when she had awakened once more in that temple, soft white light seeping in through the shattered ceiling to replace the fading void and haze of infection, that traitorous emotion had crept into her shell. The veins of orange infection lacing the walls of the temple withered and died, fading to black before crumbling away. That almost painful stab of hope only grew sharper when she discovered her sibling, the Hollow Knight, sprawled across the cracked ground, void dripping from their missing arm and the deep pits in their shell, but somehow, miraculously, still alive. 

Ghost, however, had not been so fortunate, and the nail of remorse that had lanced through her at the sight of their shattered mask had nearly brought Hornet to her knees. It wasn’t fair. The three of them had done it. They had won. They had beat the Radiance and her infection. Together. So why, then, had she and the Hollow Knight survived, but Ghost had not?

Knowing it was futile but still harboring that foolish flicker of hope, Hornet lowered Ghost’s broken mask into a shallow edge of the spring. Maybe, if their mask was whole, Ghost could come back, as the Hollow Knight had.

The white shards stayed sharp and jagged in the murky waters, as inert and still as stone.

Hornet’s shoulders slumped and that childish hope sputtered and died in her chest. 

The quiet slosh of moving water brought Hornet’s attention up to the Hollow Knight, surprised to find them moving about already as they carefully, hesitantly, shifted toward her. She blinked at the way the glowing light of the hot spring coiled around them, and for the briefest of heartbeats she imagined that light held a more yellow tinge, splaying out behind them in the Radiances starburst. She could almost imagine their eyes again alight… but no. No, the light was white and wispy, nothing more than steam, and the Hollow Knight’s one uncovered eye was a steady, empty black. The Radiance was gone. Hornet’s sibling was cured. 

For a moment, Hornet put aside her disappointment over Ghost’s mask and allowed herself to revel in the relief and joy that zinged through her at the sight of the sibling she had long assumed lost to her alive, if not completely well. She searched their void-black eye for any flicker of light, as the mental image of their glowing-orange eyes seeping tears of infection refused to fade. She cringed as she recalled the way they had turned their nail on themself in a desperate attempt to cut that infection away, to prevent their body from being puppeted into hurting Ghost. She reached out a hand, not quite touching their white mask still half covered in bandages. She was not sure if her touch would be welcome, or if it would only cause her injured sibling greater distress. 

“Hollow –“ she choked, surprised at the tightness in her throat. She swallowed. What was she going to say? ‘I’m glad you’re alive’? ‘I’m sorry for everything that happened’? Somehow, everything that came to mind felt inadequate and she fell back on the security of practicality. “Are you alright? Do you still hurt?” 

Her sibling stared a moment, as if processing her words. Slowly, they lifted their sodden cloak to glance down at the bandages wrapped around them. Their right arm was still missing, long since eaten away by the infection and well beyond the hot spring’s ability to heal, but the dark void no longer bled from under the bandages. Hornet reached forward, intending to unwrap the webbing to take a closer look, to be certain they were no longer hurt, but the way their sibling went absolutely motionless at the movement froze her in place. She abruptly recalled that they were completely unaccustomed to such care, even prior to becoming the Hollow Knight, and the only sensation they had experienced for all this time since they was pain. Did they fear her touch, worried it would bring harm?

“I promise, I will not hurt you,” she assured them gently. “I wish only to remove the bandages. May I?”

Stare.

Then, ever so slightly, the barest nod of their mask.

Hornet carefully, oh so carefully, removed the bandages to reveal the scarred shell underneath. No longer open, bleeding wounds, the Hollow Knight’s injuries were little more than slightly duller grey scars along the perfect black of their carapace. However, when she unwrapped the bandage over the Hollow Knight’s eye, Hornet had to stifle a flicker of sorrow to find their mask still cracked. She gently cupped their cheek, staring into their eyes as a confusing swirl of emotions eddied through her. The sharp ache of hope in her chest was only sharpened by the dark coil of fear twisting and untwisting in her belly – the fear of doing too little, too late; of potentially discovering that her sibling was actually hollow after a fashion; the fear of them not. There was an uncomfortable itch of confusion somewhere in there too, at their shared survival, and a warm flicker of gratitude tainted with sorrow that they had, even if at Ghost’s expense, though it pained her to admit as much. But most of all was shame, and a steady, burning anger that pulsed in the pit of her belly at what had been done to her sibling, at what trials they had endured.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. For what, she couldn’t quite find the words to say. How did one apologize for anything that had happened to her sibling? She knew none of what happened to them had been her fault – she had been far too young, too small, to prevent their binding. But she still felt the deepest shame at her continued inability – nay her refusal -  to brake those bindings herself, at the role she played in even preserving them. A cold, fracturing pain broke her heart as she fully comprehended just how much they had suffered in all the time that had passed. How could one ever adequately apologize for that?

She could feel the Hollow Knight begin to shake slightly under her touch, their shoulders trembling as their breathing became labored. For an instant, Hornet feared something was wrong, that she’d hurt them somehow, that they might vanish in a cloud of void just as Ghost had. 

But when dark tears of void began to spill from their eyes, and their quick breaths quickly dissolved into silent sobs, she realized they were probably only just beginning to process what had happened to them. She went to withdraw her hand, intending to give them space, but their own hand quickly covered hers and they leaned into her touch. Surprise pulsed through her at the motion, at the clear assertion of want without her prompting. An instinct Hornet had long thought dead had the spiderling wading into the water with her sibling and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. They were so much bigger than she that she had to stand to give them a hug, even as they remained seated. But the way they clung to her as shuddering sobs raked through them made them feel so small and fragile in her arms, and she blinked away tears of her own. She gently stroked their back as they cried, holding them tight as if her arms alone could keep them from falling apart. She found herself murmuring that it was okay, that they could cry now, they could let themself feel. The Radiance was destroyed, her infection gone. They had done it - they had kept their oath despite it all. She promised them they were safe. They were free.

For how long they remained like that, Hornet could only guess. Her back and arms had long since begun to ache at holding her much larger sibling aloft, but she steadfastly refused to be the first to draw away. Her sibling needed her, and this time wyrm damn it she was going to be here. 

After a time, the Hollow Knight’s breathing slowed, and their shaking lessened. She let them draw away at the slightest tug. The last thing she wanted to do was make them feel trapped. Their white mask was stained with dark streaks and she retrieved one of the bandages to wipe it clean. Her sibling pressed their mask into her hand as she worked and she got the sense that they were trying to express a form of gratitude. Relief and joy had begun to overwhelm all the other emotions that still twisted in Hornet’s chest – not quite replacing them but at least quelling them. Her sibling was alive, and this time they were free. It felt a wonder that such a thing could be possible, and some small part of Hornet swelled with pride at the knowledge that she had helped make this happen, even if mostly unintentionally. She vowed that this time, she would make certain they got to live fully and freely. 

Her thumb brushed the jagged edge of the crack in their mask and Hornet’s mind began to search for ways to make things better for her sibling, needing to prove to them through actions that they truly were safe now. That she cared.

“I wonder if the Mask Maker could repair this,” she mused, her thoughts drifting to the strange recluse who lived above her home in Deepnest. She knew he had been the one too craft the Hollow Knight’s mask as they grew up, since the vessels were incapable of molting like an average bug. If he was still alive, maybe the Mask Maker could help heal her sibling.

A thought occurred to her with a cold prickling across her shell and Hornet turned to Ghost’s mask still sitting broken in the water.

Perhaps…

Hollow let Hornet pull her hand away and she carefully plucked those white shards from the water, re-wrapping them in Ghost’s old cloak. Her motions were quick with a new purpose and the Hollow Knight stared at her, their confusion clear in the tilt of their head. 

“I have an idea,” she admitted, tucking the bundle in a silk bag under her cloak. A fragile hope had begun to rekindle in her chest. “There might be a way to get Ghost back.”

She paused, then asked, “Do you want to come with me?” 

( https://twitter.com/RannHKnight )

( @enbeebo​ )

( @jenmodri​ )

( https://twitter.com/hakunoknight )

( @lickthejam​ )

[havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong]

Act 2 -- Il Dottore Part 3

[tagging @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong ]

An engineer, a man of wit and mystery, takes the field.

He must take the script.

He must take the script.

He must take the script. Correct?

--

There's a mirror in front of me.

I can see through it -- I can see that man's eyes.

What's left of them.

'My' own hands, and the spear that would no doubt pierce my skull.

'Myself' -- separated from that body. Even my name, my 'self,' would elude me. I try to call for my name, to unconsciously understand my body, to grip on and 'reconnect,' yet --

There's no controller. My hands reach out in this endless abyss of gears, locked tightly by some horrible fluid, crunching something as it desperately tried to spin.

The clicking of an overextended piston.

The ground beneath me trembled.

Even my eyesight grows blurry, staring through the mirror, towards the white-haired woman who approaches 'me' so angrily.

That speartip grows closer still, and I--

--

...

There's a horde of gears beneath me.

Perhaps I'm laying down -- the clicking of struggling gears is all I can hear, or feel, against my back -- my feet. All around me, rust falls -- like snowflakes falling from the roof of metal, hanging wires and leaking engines, steadily coating the environment in its own twisted form of 'lakes' -- pools of oil, mixed with rust flakes, populating the areas surrounding me. Forming a path of broken parts, brittle and rusted over -- pointing forwards.

...There's an ache in my head. A pounding, drilling feeling. My body flickers -- certainly, I am to exist, as I feel 'me' being ripped away-

Groping around behind me, the wall, the ground I was leaning on, my greyed hands grasped something tough --

...A book.

A play with no visible name.

Just a blank hardcover back, dyed black, flecks of rust on its form.

...I force myself off the ground, onto the wall.

One foot in front of the other.

The wall cracks beneath my feet. The brittle floor crunches, shudders, underneath even the weight of my step.

My lightest footsteps cracked the beams beneath my feet -- long since, I assumed, brought to ruin by the surrounding environment. Eaten away -- desecrated.

And yet, still only the snap -- the crack, of the wall on which I walked.

...I raised my hand -- wiped a few drops of oil from it, stepping away from a broken engine just above me -- and placed my eyes on the book before me.

...The feeling in my head -- the drilling, drives itself deeper into my temples.

[It is yours. It is your script/life/world. It is your 'existence.']

...Words, in my mind. The unimaginable language that worms its way into my mind -- whispers its meanings without being heard, to get across what words alone could not.

It ate -- tore at me, 'myself.' Taking a chunk of my mind -- my 'self,' suddenly, even--

"...What do you mean?"

[...It is simple. What you have done now is your purpose -- to stop that man. To break/destroy/harm him. Do you now understand?]

...

...The man. The one I had watched 'me' deface -- attempt to harm. Had harmed.

Through the mirror, the shattered visage of the man remained -- his body twitching, shuddering.

Muscles spasming as each jagged edge dug itself deeper --

...I found my hand moving to my mouth, distracting my quivering stomach with the piercing scent of oil and rust.

"I didn't do that. That... That wasn't me. I've been here this whole time."

[And does that matter? Whose hands are stained/coated/reveling in the blood?]

...

...I found my hands wouldn't open -- wouldn't drop this book.

'Was the voice coming from this -- or..?'

[...You are an actor/pawn/word in a story. Look at you/rself.]

...A 'thunk' -- a creaking in the metal beams -- disturbed the grounds. My eyes raise themselves from the book.

Towards 'me.'

Donning the clear mask, dripping with liquids.

A body like mine -- a gaudy, old-fashioned black outfit, long since stained and worn down with the rust, the oil, the...

...

"..."

...Not a word. The 'me' steps forward. Readies a knife.

[...You are not what you were in other times/worlds/beings. You are neither a hero/god/saviour, nor even a worker/engineer/bee.]

...The 'me' throws his knife. My body jerks -- twitches, forcing itself to the side, catching my heels, my body thrown off its balance.

[You are an actor/pawn/fool. Accept your script.]

The brittle, rust ridden ground beneath me --

-- in a moment, collapses.

--

...

There's a buzzing.

A loud screaming of scratching metals -- the hum of an old light trying to keep itself alive.

There's a warmth about me. My hand raises -- my blurry eyes, for a moment, catch a glowing, red, something, before it scatters.

And in its place, is --

...Light.

Endless light.

My eyes slowly focus in on this -- this...

...'Feeling.'

A feeling made manifest.

Feelings, made manifest.

Of what was lost to me -- such a being, unmoved by the surrounding gears, the pieces, remained. Surrounding me.

Then --

[...Are you awake/asleep/open, my beloved?]

...A thousand voices. A million voices. Speaking in unison -- a Greek chorus of words, spoken all at once, in each tone an entire person spoken.

"...Who.. are you..?"

[...If such simple questions explained me/us/you, we would not stand here.]

...There's a golden light -- it reverberates, shining off what remained of the iron, steel components of this land I fell to.

[...We were summoned, here -- for you/me/them. To help. This story of ours/theirs/us we wished to watch -- is not, we/I/you realize, as we expected/wished/wanted.]

"...Are you... a Familiar? Or are you a Servant, like they.. The... That they spoke of..?"

...A Servant. One I'd understood -- even if the memory was lost. A replica of a hero from history. But where I was now was assuredly not the 'real world' -- not a place where a Servant could even be.

[...We/I/you/them/ are the Audience. There is little else to know.]

...

"...You mentioned you were to... help."

...The drilling returns -- intensifies. My lungs quiver, and tighten -- my brain 'pulsing,' in pain. In realization, of--

[...We/I/You may not help in the way of saving you. However, I would have you hold these, my beloved, and attempt to move. To remember/believe/forget.]

...Two objects appeared at my feet --

[...I wish you/me/us/them the best.]

--and the light faded.

...

The first -- a lone amulet. A necklace. A pale silver, carefully crafted, held shut by a tiny clasp.

...Something I carried with me -- the drill in my mind, the drill tearing off the 'pieces' of me, could not remove such a thing.

The second -- a revolver.

At a glance, an old model, that I'd never seen before. Placing the amulet around my neck, I gripped and raised the gun -- a curious model, with six 'barrels' in place of the usual one. It may have been fully loaded -- but I supposed it wouldn't be the brightest idea to check.

...My eyes settle on my hands, grasping onto the gun. Colour spread throughout my fingers, bringing it from a dull grey to a light peach --

--...to what my mind was now realizing -- were normal.

And in a moment, 'He' approached me. The room, with the light removed, remained its rusted, dripping self.

Oil pooled around my feet, in a circle -- 'He' stepped forward, readied his blade.

[...You keep fighting. Despite your fate/story/script being secured -- despite your very existence being drawn/placed/muddled into question.]

...My hand gripped the handle of this revolver -- my spare hand now rising to my chest, where this amulet now lay. Warmth began to spread throughout me -- one I only recognized as 'correct,' flowing through me.

[I ask you. What gives you the right to break your role/script/self? What gives you the right to exist?]

The drill keeps moving -- it burrows further into my brain. My eyes flash to black, return -- the 'Him,' unrecognizable, his face, his body impossible to understand.

A swarming 'humanoid' mass. A coalescence of 'being,' tied only by a 'form' I could no longer perceive.

"...What gives me the right... to exist?"

...The drill, digging deeper --

--as I tried to grasp for memories, for a reasoning, I found less and less. It took hold of me, stole those 'memories,' yet --

...As the 'Him' before me stepped forward, I found my hand unconsciously grasping my amulet -- opening it up, just as my vision blacked out again --

...I found my voice.

It were humming.

A tune I couldn't place.

One so deep in my brain, that even the drill could not alter its calming, melodic tune.

With each high note, a face returned.

A coworker. A patron. A supplier.

With each low note, a time.

A creation.

Little creatures I so dearly referred to as 'Mousers.'

Even fluids -- 'medicines' I'd borne witness to.

...

With the bridge of this hummed tune, my vision returned.

And with it -- my hand, holding the revolver, raised itself slowly.

The gears beneath me, surrounding me, shuddered -- flakes of rust shooting off its surface, evaporating.

The shine of steel repaired itself -- one by one, these broken, rusted gears began to turn -- sewing itself back together with welds made as though by a miracle.

I found, in my hand, lay a small jar. 'Vick'xxx.' Something that heavily increased libido.

Facing 'him' -- me -- momentarily, I had to wonder -- 'just what could this do?'

...But the funny thing about these creations of mine were their ease of use.

And how easily I could alter the mixture -- and change how it worked.

With a toss in the air, the jar shimmered, and fell back in my hand --

This world I was in -- it wasn't real life.

It was my own mind. That pocket of 'conscious' where I now fought against this invader.

For my right to exist -- and to ignore this script.

The script, on the ground -- perhaps dropped as my mind were drilled into -- was kicked aside in a moment, an unconscious move of my leg in the effort to cement that.

The being stepped forward -- another step, then brandished the knife and dashed my way.

"...I know why I should exist."

[...And what would that be?]

In a moment, I raised my revolver. Cracking open the jar, I tossed that viscous fluid across the form of the attacker.

"Because I have things left to make. I have a job left to do -- and there are many specimens, beings in my mind, that I haven't yet put to real life."

A swarm of robots -- powered with magecraft, swarming around 'me.'

Those Mousers, holding with them the most minute amounts of oil, from the engines that once leaked -- laying them on the ground around the dashing man.

In a moment, I can see those papers I'd left behind at the Clock Tower -- the journey here, to Carcosa, to find parts for my latest, greatest creation.

I can see my coworkers, even the ones I spoke to and taught in my off time.

In a moment, the faces of each creation I'd seen and brought life to -- each little dose of magecraft, each Mystic Code I brought to existence --

--and deep in my mind, the face of a pink-haired woman who smiled ever-so-slightly, even though I couldn't even understand who she was.

"My life isn't going to be spent tormenting some man I've never even met. Least of all when my competition are beings with strength incomparable to mine."

...

"This is my life -- and I deserve to exist. I want to keep moving forward, and create what nobody before me has! If nothing else -- I have my drive, and that's good enough to me."

Lining up the pepperbox pistol, I fired one lone shot towards 'me.'

The Vick'xxx, modified with ethanol, the oils the Mousers had placed --

--the gunpowder shot struck through 'me,' through the Mask, and set him ablaze.

"...My name is Julius. No matter what awaits me if I break this script, this is my life, and nobody else's."

The blaze evaporated the man -- the gears around me, whirring, spinning at full speed, began to allow the pneumatic pistons to raise one final time.

Onwards, upwards -- the fires dwindling, leaving behind only the mask the man had, now coloured a soot black from the ashes.

[...Are you so willing to join the suffering/pain/descent of that man that you would throw away your chance to fade/die/dwindle peacefully?]

"...If that's what it means to give me freedom, then so be it."

I raised my leg up --

--and brought my foot down upon the mask.

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 1x13 A Clue: No

“Previously on” recaps can be annoying, but there is an art to it and I love a good one. This is a very, very good one, summarising the last episode with ramping tension as the music builds, then cuts to a different take of the last scene as the theme song starts, and we’re into the opening credits.

This is a long one, so it’s going under the cut:

Guy estimates that the “inner circle” of Robin’s gang is “a dozen at the most” and I find it very funny that neither he nor Vaisey have twigged that it’s always the same five people around him. What’s more annoying than funny is that they don’t know how many are in the “outer circle” because that really should have been A Thing in the show (Forrest and Hanton should have come back to guest star! I will never let this go!) After all, we see Little John with more men in the first episode, there are other outlaws in the forest/across the shire that are either working with Robin, or pose a risk to them, and I wish this had been explored.

Djaq manhandling and holding her sword to Pitts’s throat - I love Djaq.

The first arrow Robin shoots is intended for Vaisey, but one of the guards inconveniently walks in front and gets it in the chest. The second arrow is intended for Vaisey as well but he ducks (”my tooth!”) so we can’t fault the writing for a credible attempt at Why Doesn’t Robin Just Kill The Sheriff, because in this scene at least, he tries.

Bye Pitts. You certainly were.

I actually really love this scene (which probably seemed odd given the high body count), but Robin drawing his sword and charging, with Much, Djaq, and John backing him up to avenge Marian’s apparent death/make a final stand, as the music shifts from the jaunty Rescue Theme to Marian’s Theme, just gets me every time.

Although thanks to the cast commentary, I can’t unsee Djaq flipping that guy over her head twice, but hey, it’s a badass move. Clearly they didn’t shoot enough coverage of this fight, because we get the same action from several different angles.

Other than the flashback in episode 8, I think this is the only time we see Robin in Crusader mode, and just how lethal he (and the gang) can be when unleashed and with nothing to lose. Even when the enemy retreats Robin remains kind of wild-eyed with rage unsated, and it takes a beat for him to snap out of it. It’s symbolism time - he sticks his sword in the ground and leaves it there, and we don’t see it again this episode (or much in season 2).

There’s some nice acting going on from everyone in this scene - just utter exhaustion, Allan and Will oblivious to why the rest are so distraught, Much taking it upon himself to tell them but can’t say the words, and Robin with the finality of “she’s dead.” Their faces!

Djaq is still holding two swords as she enters the cave, which is a nice character beat - no doubt the fight also brought back unpleasant memories/triggers for her, and she remains on edge, for the moment unwilling to give up her defences even when the threat is gone.

I really love this scene too (the gang mourning Marian) and I think it’s quite deftly written - Djaq’s immediate reaction being the importance of a quick burial (as per Islamic tradition), Robin trying to keep it together, attempting to ask John/Will to build a coffin but unable to, so deflecting to ask Djaq to prepare Marian’s body, before trying twice again; John soothing him and taking charge. Will’s single tear and speaking of Marian’s goodness. Much responding with “Good? Oh, she was... She was...” looking to Robin because of course his thoughts are for Robin’s grief before his own, and also that his own relationship with Marian was complex. Allan: “She was alright...yeah” that says so much, and of course John’s “Her, we liked.” Again, some fine acting, kudos everyone.

“I loved her and I never told her” is ironic because Robin still won’t tell her until halfway through the next season, and if he had in the aftermath of her apparent death he could have spared himself a lot of the angst of the rest of the episode. But of course he doesn’t tell her, doesn’t learn from this moment, because emotions are hard, and sometimes we make the same mistakes over and over again.

I really love that it’s Allan that notices that Marian is alive, and his little “told ya” flourish.

Score note: while Marian is “dead” her Theme is strings, when she opens her eyes, it’s back to the guitar.

Guy’s guilt in finding out his impending marriage to Marian is based on false pretenses - would he still have forced the marriage if he’d known that from the start?

Djaq still has her two swords as they take Marian back to Knighton.

Guy, if your first instinct when told Marian is not at home is that she’s run away rather than marry you...maybe take a hint? “She cannot run from me” is a big yikes, and this confuses me as to Guy’s motivation in this scene. Did he intend to tell Marian the truth, but then convince himself otherwise (because “the excitement of the wedding” =/= “the wedding excites her”), but then why so angry when he thinks shes run? The difference between getting someone go/being left, I suppose.

Illness is a perfectly plausible explanation for delaying the wedding that no one seems to think of.

Edward is actually pretty bang on in this scene with Robin from a father’s perspective, telling him to let Marian go if he cannot stop it, and do the right thing. On the other hand...

“I am sick of doing the right thing” is why Robin is such a compelling character for me - because it is hard to always be good, to be held to that higher standard, and make the unselfish choice. I enjoy narratives that explore that, and this show is surprisingly unflinching about it, exemplified by:

The next scene, which is one of the most emotionally brutal/hard to watch of the entire show, in which Robin lashes out and does everything to drive Much away, including calling him “a pox”  and a “small man” until Much’s heart visibly breaks.

Now I don’t want to excuse Robin here, because he is objectively awful to someone who doesn’t deserve it, who is trying to give him support but also telling him some much needed hard truths (even if it is slightly self-serving, which is what what seems to set Robin off). But at the end of the day, if he loves Marian he needs to accept that it is her choice to marry Guy, to “do the right thing” to (she thinks) protect her father - and later of he does just that. For now Edward and Much are both right, it is more important for him to try and protect the king from Vaisey, because if he is ousted and Richard back on the throne so many lives would be improved, including the people of Locksley. But Robin has been pushed to breaking point all season, and has now snapped and can’t see reason, but is stuck in his own grief/rage.

But unlike previously, when Robin said regrettable things in the heat of the moment and then immediately took them back, this is a calculated attack designed to hurt Much the most, because he loves Robin so much that it takes A Lot to push him away. It’s a bold move to make your hero so unlikable in such a moment, because Robin really is unforgivably cruel here, and trust the audience to understand why. I mean, I don’t want to bang on about the PTSD, but it’s (partly) the PTSD, based on a triggering, precipitating event causing a self-destructive spiral. Robin needs some Ye Olde Therapy.  

For all the talk about Robin getting his title and lands back, nothing is said about what happens to Gisborne once he does, other than that they can’t prove he was the one who tried to assassinate Richard. Because really, Richard probably would believe Robin even though the tattoo was burned away, and Guy’s certainly committed other crimes that could be testified to just like they’re intending for Vaisey - and let’s be real, it’s not like a king needs evidence to order someone’s death (hello, season 2 finale). Boom - Guy executed, marriage to Marian annulled, problem solved!

So, the scene between Marian and Guy, in which Marian is more concerned with whether or not Guy tried to kill the king than the fact that he stabbed her. But its understandable, because Marian thinks there’s no way out that doesn’t risk her father’s life, and it’s easier to convince herself that maybe Guy didn’t do it to make the best of things. I think she does have some kind of feelings for him, or is at least moved by his feelings for her, and believes if nothing else she can influence him/continue working from the inside; giving up the mantle of the Nightwatchman but doing the same work (in a different way) as Lady Gisborne.

And then it’s Robin/Marian angst, round 3, and it’s a far cry from their interaction in the cave milliseconds away from “I love yous” - in both tone and body language they’re back in defensive positions talking past one another. The tension, it be thick.

Marian is making her best rationalisation with “deprived of love” and Robin not at all buying the Woobification 101. Once she tells him her decision to marry Guy, he accepts it, but it’s Marian’s reaction that’s telling, she’s surprised that he doesn’t argue, deep down she wants him to fight for her, to say that the real reason she shouldn’t marry Guy is because he loves her. It’s quite a contrast from the previous scene where Guy was very open about how he feels about her, while Robin deflects, but while she was conflicted about Guy trying to kiss her, she’s frustrated, disappointed, and angry when Robin leaves.

But really, this is rather unfair of Marian, because Robin did already declare himself in the cave (”we should be together”) without her reciprocation, so expecting him to take the first step again without any encouragement is a bit much.

Would a depressed person sit slumped against a tree all night?

“But by taking Marian in holy wedlock, I will wash away those crimes. Her pure heart will cleanse mine.” Yeah...not going to touch that one. I appreciate that there’s a lot going on with Guy and many, many people find it compelling, but I’m afraid it’s not really a narrative that interests me.

Speaking of pure hearts: Much. Faced with the same choice he was counseling Robin on, but with the additional wrinkle of knowing the king’s an imposter, he still decides to stop the wedding. “Her heart belongs to another” is A Moment and I don’t know exactly why but I find his very soft pleas following this and calling her “my lady” very affecting. 

She’s beauty and she’s grace, she punched Guy in the face.

“A trap. I knew it.” I haaaaate this line. NO YOU DIDN’T KNOW IT ROBIN YOU KNEW NOTHING OF THE KIND IF YOU HAD KNOWN YOU WOULD BE EVEN MORE OF A DICK FOR LEAVING UGGGHHHH.

“We can’t be seen together” Right in front of my salad two guards on front gate duty, who get front row tickets to the kiss. Look at them! They’re right there! This show drives me absolutely bonkers sometimes.

I do love this dress though.

“An audience with the king has been suspended!” Going out on one last pun.

Regardless, I really love this episode. Despite the lack of fallout from the emotional wringer they all went through, I can’t help but smile when the gang does their silly little jump for joy at the end.

[fabelyn]

Equivalent Exchange

Pairing: Childe/Zhongli (chili)

Rated: T for language Warnings: spoilers for 1.1 update story Chapter: Oneshot Chapter Word Count: 2525

Link to AO3

Summary: Some would see Zhongli’s penniless state as the most pathetic oversight.

Childe sees it as an opportunity.

And maybe that’s what Zhongli is hoping for.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Childe lies easily, having tracked his target to this location. “May I sit with you?”

He stands beside Zhongli, and is disappointed when he shows no visible reaction to finding him so close after they’d parted with no contact.

The tea table Zhongli sits on is clearly made for one, yet that doesn’t deter him from nodding and making a welcoming motion, and Childe pulls up a chair. The table is small enough that their knees are almost touching beneath it.

“I apologize, I did not realize I would have company and only ordered for myself,” Zhongli motions the leftover tea.

“I see you’re still keeping the finest of taste.”

“Shall I order more for you?”

“Hm, no it’s fine, for now.”

Zhongli smiles. “This is nice, I don't think we’ve sat down to talk since you introduced me to the Traveller.”

So, not beating around the bush too much . “Hm. We were all so busy with the…funeral arrangements.” He chuckled, and Zhongli joined in. Childe let the levity rest between them for a moment before sobering the conversation somewhat. “And I was unaware if you wanted another meal… after.”

Zhongli raises one perfect eyebrow as if completely baffled. “Now, why would that be?”

Childe couldn’t detect sarcasm in the question so he just nods. “True, you certainly did achieve success in your endeavors, so I suppose you aren’t angry with me, at the very least.”

“You sound as if your goal wasn’t reached.”

Childe shrugged. “It was, since the Tsarista was satisfied, although there was… a surprising development along the way.” I did not think I was so stupid as to be interested in the target I was using.

“Surprising development,” Zhongli quoted slowly, then smiled. “Yes, you could say I too had some of that.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.”

Childe waited, but no further explanation was forthcoming. He shrugged, it was only fair.

“Alright, so neither of us failed. But now we no longer have need of each other. I did not think you had further interest in keeping up a sham relationship, Rex Lapis .”

Zhongli stared at him, then smiled thinly. His mannerisms were still as gentle as Childe recalled, but the look in his eyes were much sharper than before.

“A sham? And yet, you’ve come.”

“You all but called for me. I got curious.”

“Did I? I do not recall doing such a thing, as pleasant as your current company may be.”

“You told the Traveller that you, Morax , had forgotten to plan for having mora a your disposal after your defection from your Archon duties, and they mentioned such a ridictulous thing to me. And it seems others have heard a similar tale of woe from you, I not in so many words.”

“Signaling that I find myself without monetary recourse may mean I require assistance here and there, but not that you must come assist me.”

“And maybe I did not come to offer aid, much less friendship, but to simply laugh at your predicament.”

“Did you?”

“Hm, do you really have no Mora? I find it truly hard to believe that after that amusing plot you tricked me into, and successfully making a deal with the Tsarista, that you would truly not have thought such a thing through. Not to mention, your alias as Zhongli did have a job at the Funeral Parlor. A detail I cannot simply forget given that is how you roped me into contacting you before.” Childe smiles brightly.

Zhongli remains unmoved. “Perhaps after so much time as the Archon, the concept of needing currency to live had become a detail beneath me and I did not factor it.”

“Is that so?”

They stare at each other, a standoff where neither wants to be the first to cede. Childe resists the urge to laugh: it is fun to try the patience of an Archon, yet it is also so unbearably frustrating, perhaps he will lose on-

“I am not in as dire straits as I may have…. accidentally appeared to the Traveller and others.”

Childe blinks in surprise; he had not expected Zhongli to concede so quickly. Or for it not feel like he had won. 

“As you surmised earlier,” Zhongli went on, “my employment at the Funeral Parlor could always be taken up again.”

“And yet, you haven’t done so.”

“Indeed.” Zhongli drums his long fingers on the table. “Retirement does not feel right if I am simply taken up another task. Perhaps if it were something enjoyable...”

Childe is getting impatient. “Is getting on your knees enjoyable?” He asks, wondering if the language was too crude for the likes of Rex Lapis to understand.

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, Childe decides to explain.

“The two women who helped pay for you this week, surely you have not become so old as to not understand what they were asking for as gratitude?”

Zhongli’s reply is completely out of Childe’s expectation.

“Why do you assume I would be on my knees?” He asks simply, and, before Childe can recover from that, continues. “And why does that interest you? Is that what you’d ask as payment for helping me now? Oh, pardon me, you implied you only came to laugh at my predicament, not help.”

Childe can simply agree and excuse himself. End this and leave. But if he had wanted nothing, he wouldn’t have come in the first place.

“Did I imply that? I think you misunderstood. I did come to help you after all. Although, naturally, I should have some equivalent compensation, especially since, from my understanding, this monetary aid would prolong itself as you have no interest in getting a job any time soon.”

Zhongli’s perfect poise slips a little, almost as if his shoulders have sagged in relief.

For the first time in… possibly, ever, Childe feels a twinge of what may be guilt. Spurned by Zhongli’s surprising candor, he decides it might be best, afterall, to not trick the... man... further.

“Rex Lapis, Zhongli, I’m not sure you realize who you’re after.”

“Childe, Tartaglia , a Harbinger from Snezhnaya, correct?”

Childe’s fingers twitch at the name coming from Zhongli’s lips. “Our previous camaraderie was all but manufactured so I could attain my results. Had my Tsarista not demanded subtlety and diplomacy, I wouldn’t have sought out the Funeral Parlor, and simply brought pandemonium to Liyue from the get go. I’m not the affable young lordling I acted as. Even the youngest Harbinger is still a Harbinger. I attacked the Traveller, I nearly brought destruction to Liyue, and I regret nor apologize for either. The precious friend you made before, he doesn’t exist.

“However, in acknowledgement of our good… ah… companionship thus far, I suggest you reconsider, and leave.”

It’s actually insane that, after everything, he came to Zhongli to simply allow him to leave when the man had all but tactidly said he’d sell his body to Childe. 

But from the moment he had sat so near Zhongli he realized he could no longer wear a mask, not for this. He could not see himself starting anything with the man while not being himself.

And he knows he won’t bear rejection well if their acquaintanceship goes further.

Zhongli stares at him, then begins chuckling.

“Oh, it seems I came here not to laugh at you, but to be laughed at.”

“Pardon my manners, but really, I never expected such silly words from you.”

“Silly?”

“Hm, yes. Let’s see. First of all, the cute persona-”

“...Cute?”

“-You crafted as Childe here in Liyue, while it may have been a performance sufficient enough to trick mere mortals, was hardly that convincing to me. I could see the look in your eyes even as you smiled. I never expected you to be a gentle soul. And as for what you tried to unleash, your glee towards it all, and your lack of remorse now… I see it all, I have lost my gnosis not my eyes. Childe, Tartaglia, whatever name you give yourself, I am pursuing you, not your disguise.”

Zhongli raises a hand as if to stop Childe from interrupting. Childe, however, had no such plans.

“That said, underestimating my observational skills is not enough to make me laugh. What dumbfounds me, yet touches me at the same time, is that you just said you’ll allow me to leave, and I think you mean truly meant that.”

“What about that?”

“Were you aware that I was offered a bonus for my willing compliance towards my end of the bargain?”

Childe blinks. He had not, and shakes his head, confused at the sudden turn.

“Very well. it so happened that this boon would have been to… interestingly enough… deny a request you had made, just after everything was over. I refused it, naturally, else you would not be here.”

Childe stiffens, and Zhongli’s smile widens.

“As you said, even the youngest Harbinger is still a Harbinger. It is unthinkable that they would waste one of their most precious resources staying in Liyue and not going elsewhere to further your Tsarista’s objective. It would be quite the demotion, your staying here, if not for the fact you requested it.”

Childe tries to laugh it off. “I-”

“Pardon me, but I’m not done. Of course, as strange as it is, there are maybe some reasons for it. Spying on the Qixing and the nearby Mondstat. Planning or organizing a future invasion. Certainly there are excuses that could be sufficient enough to make it seem that you truly had no other motive to stay here, other than to serve.”

“Precisely, so-”

“Still not done,” Zhongli says, voice a little deeper, stricter, and Childe finds himself shutting his mouth in too much excited obedience at the tone. Zhongli pauses, as if gauging Childe’s reaction, but then continues. “I waited to see if you would come to reacquaint ourselves, for the sake of your new task. You did not. So I may have made comments to the Traveller and others mentioning a monetary predicament, to see if you would come then. You still did not. However… two interesting things happened, do you know what they are?”

Childe just stares. Surely Zhongli doesn’t know-

“The first kind lady that offered mora in exchange for ah… in your words “me on my knees” was sadly caught in bed by her husband with another man.”

Oh Tsarista, Zhongli knows.

“The other one… a fire consumed parts of her home -a candle gone wrong, such a normal thing- and while she is fine and not in any trouble, she no longer can afford to spend money on others, at least not for a while.”

At Childe’s continued silence, Zhongli leans forward, reaches across the table and tucks an errant lock of hair behind Childe’s ear.

It takes all of Childe’s restraint not to lift his hand to where he was touched.

“Perhaps a gentler, humbler, soul than I would simply assume coincidence. But I am not that humble, and I recall the look in your eyes. So it amuses me that here and now, you offer me freedom from you, yet you’ve been quite keen to stay near and ruin any chances I may have of leaning on other people. You claim I don’t know what I want, but it seems to me you are the one unsure.”

Childe opens his mouth, closes it, then throws caution to the wind. “Being willful is my forte,” he says with a small laugh to be master of himself again. “I didn’t like where that was going, so I cut it short with those women. But I’ve concluded I don’t want to live more of a farce than I already do, so I don’t want anything with you where I have to pretend to be, well, not me.”

“You wouldn’t have to.”

And Childe truly believes it. And because he does, he says something he had never expected to.

“But you know, paying for your lifestyle for an indefinite amount of time will be too costly. Make I should demand your heart along with your body?”

It’s cheesy but it does the trick. Finally it seems he has managed to disconcert Zhongli, who clearly had not expected Childe to say something so outrageous. Childe laughs, because he hadn’t expected it either.

Zhongli recovers spectacularly fast. “Well now, I think the grace of having the former Geo Archon’s body at your command is recompense enough.”

“Oho, so now you abruptly understand the value of money?”

“No such thing, it’s just that even someone so out of tune as I can tell this transaction of yours is too one sided.”

“So, after all of…” Childe waves at the table between them, “whatever this conversation was, is that where we stop? Your body and nothing else?”

Well, not that Childe, who had been bracing for less than that, wasn’t happy , he simply wasn’t satiated.

“Hm… I never said that. I simply don’t believe mora is sufficient.”

The electricity that’s coursing through him almost feels like Childe had accidentally ignited his Delusion. He tries not to shiver and remain composed. “Fair enough. Then, oh mighty Rex Lapis, what price would you place on your heart?”

Maybe this had all been another carefully crafted ploy by the Archon, and he was planning to entice Childe into obedience, or reveal Snezhaya’s secrets-

“Hm, I believe this sort of transaction can only be done if the same thing is exchanged in return.”

Childe blinks. 

Oh. 

He really should have seen that one coming, shouldn't he?

He can simply lie. But he won’t.

Hesitant for the first time, he looks down at the empty cup between them, and reaches out to play with it. “... That would be tricky. I don’t know if my… if what I have to offer has the same value of yours.” And because he really can’t seem to stop running his mouth today, he dares add. “It might even be more than yours. Or. Or maybe less, of course.”

Zhongli’s hand reaches out lightning fast to hold his own over the table.

“I highly doubt that,” he says softly. “However, we can put that part of the deal on hold for now and discuss the, ah, terms and values at a later time. Unless this needs to be a package for you?”

Childe snorts, no longer discomfited, but finds himself turning his hand to properly hold Zhongli’s. “Oh please, what kind of fool would throw away this deal? Alright, so according to our deal, you’re mine-”

“My body, for now. Don’t try to trick the God of Contracts so brazenly.”

“I am brazen, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. But fine. And in turn I am your walking wallet.”

“Are you not going to put a limit to how much I can demand from you?”

“Are you?”

“I can handle anything.”

“So long as you can, my wallet will handle your demands. And. I don’t see my tasks here in Liyue ending anytime soon, so we can discuss the rest later.”

“We have a contract, then. Ah, could you kindly start by dealing with this meal?”

“Certainly, but you’re following me tonight.”

*

*

*

Notes:

I did this in a feverish state after the new storyline dropped (this was posted to ao3 yesterday), so apologies if it's not that good. I did consider trying to extend it a bit so it did not feel too fast, but the last time I tried doing a "long oneshot" things, ah, backfired into a massive WIP and I did not want that again.

I hope it wasn't too bad. I've never written for this fandom before, so I don't know if I got them down correctly. My main concern was Childe, who to me comes of as slightly sadistic and I could see him being the possessive sort, if he ever came to care about anything. Plus he is unrepetant in his crimes.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Negligence.”

Sorry this is so late guys, was on a plane all day and didn’t have time to post. hope you like anyway.

He was lying in the dark, a soft light trickled in from the viewing window on the side of the wall. THe sound of the distant engines lulled him like the sweetest sort of lullaby rocking him gently to sleep, and shifting the covers of his bed so he was never quite still. It was neither hot nor cold at that moment, lying with a blanket half draped over his bare torso, though there was nothing on his shoulders, legs or feet.

It was a perfect inbetween.

Outside a glowing planet, bright white in the distance, almost seemed like the moon of earth when examined in the right light, not that he was examining anything at that moment.

His eyes were closed, his body still, and his mind no more than a blank pool of water, so still it may have been glass.

Time here had no beginning and no end.

A whisper came to him in this darkness. A sweet voice that didn’t startle him towards wakefulness, but brought him plunging deeper into the warm comfort of dreams. He could not hear what the voice was saying through the tones seemed familiar, warping in and out of of two familiar languages though never settling on just one.

The voice wove patterns through his reams, and at one moment they seemed to knit themselves into a shape, a familiar shape that lay beside him in the darkness, a shadow of a shadow.

He sighed deeply, and a warm presence brushed over his skin.

Tracing fingers, and a hand which ran up the side of his body making him shiver. The pressure grew more intense as the gaining pressure brushed over his skin coalescing into a hand, which slid to lay on his chest.

He sighed deeply into the darkness as the hand rested against his chest, a warm and comforting presence.

He reached up a hand, searching for this other figure somewhere in the darkness.

And was violently awoken as the ships mechanical alarms began to scream.

He bolted upright, alone in the Captain’s quarters, half dressed and being continually defined by the roaring of the sirens and the flashing red lights.

He stumbled to his feet, and immediately pitched hard to the floor as his body was suddenly and violently reminded that he did not have FEET but in fact a single FOOT. 

He scrambled beside the bed searching for the prosthetic, which he strapped on in record time clawing his way to his feet half dressed as he sprinted form the room, the sole of one foot bare and cold against the floor.

The administrative deck was mostly empty, but not completely, and bleary eyed officers, working over-night peered from their open doors as he ran past.

“GET TO THE EMERGENCY BAYS!” He shouted as he ran, and they did as ordered, hurrying after him with bleary expressions.

His heart hammered inside his chest as he ran cursing internally.

He didn’t want to loose his ship only a few days after having it. This was a disaster! If something happened he wasn’t afraid to admit that he would cry like a baby, like big ugly crying, there was definitely no stopping it.

Admiral Vir knew all of the alarms to his ship, he had to in order to fly one, but never in his life had he ever expected to hear an alarm for mechanical failure. The harbinger had never had any sort of problems, so why would this one?

He plowed down the stairs, nearly bowling over a two of their three resident tesraki, who squealed and hurled themselves into the wall on his passing. After that, he almost trod on a Celzex, and was ford to leap over them with a yelled apology as he raced downwards and towards the engine bay.

When he finally reached the engineering on deck seven, the alarms were off, and a crew of gathered engineers were already waiting. Some of them were dressed in their nightclothes, but many of them were still i their jumpsuits as the ship was constantly monitored in shifts.

“Whose job was this!”

THe room was silent!

“Whose job was this!” Nairobi was livid, and despite her dark skin covering the blood that must have rushed to her face, he didn’t need it to visualize the steam of absolute rage that must have built up inside her head.

“What is going on here!” He was almost surprised at the authority in his own voice as he marched up the deck and towards where Narobi was still stewing with rage.

From this vantage point, he could see one of the engineers holding his hand to his chest as two others had comforting hands on his shoulder

He looked remorseful and lowered his head, “Sir, I am so sorry sir…. I don’t know what happened.”

Admiral Vir took a deep breath and tried to calm his voice, “it’s alright, just tell me what you remember.”

He shook his head, “A pressure gasket blew on the coolant system, sir. I, my hand.”

He was cut off as one of the others stepped in front of him, a hand still resting on his shoulder, “It hit him in the hand pretty hard, sir. We think it might be broken.”

He frowned hands on hips only vaguely aware that he was shirtless in all of this, “A pressure gasket, don’t we have someone who checks those systems every day? How could a pressure gasket have been blown.”

Nairobi, still seething but actually calmer now that he was here interjected, “Yes we DO have someone who does that, sir, but whoever should have been doing it, hasn’t been doing it.”

Upon hearing those words, everything inside his head suddenly snapped into very clear focus. The bleary grogginess of his mind fell away, and he was left with his thoughts clear and unclouded.

He didn’t notice the room as it shifted nervously before him.

“Someone hasn’t been doing their job?”

His voice shot from his tongue like ice, and the room around them seemed to grow very cold very quickly.

On the other side of the room, there were a couple set of pattering footsteps as the Finnari came clattering onto the deck trailing behind Dr. krill and Dr. Katie, one in her pink pajamas and the other as bright and alert as usual.

All of them sensed something wrong almost immediately.

Dr. Krill dragged the finnari with him as he moved to the injured man, clearly holding his hand.

The finnari, sensing danger in the air shifted back at first, but hurriedly followed the Doctor’s footsteps after a moment, coming up to where the injured human was grimacing and clutching his hand.

Krill had the man sit on the floor while the Finnari stayed out of his way, but still managed to squish up against the human their heads resting on either shoulder.

The human seemed surprised though not particularly displeased with the way things were turning out. Despite his pleasure, however, the rest of the room, well the rest of the room could not have said the same, and like the empaths they were, the Finnari could feel it.

The humans might have described the feeling as if the air had gone suddenly cold, but that was not really a good description. It was simply a secondary explanation of a primary fact: there was danger here, and everyone in the room could sense it.

Blood had drained from arms and legs and moved into the core. Sense had sharpened, hearing had improved and focus had been drawn in.

And that is why the room was cold.

The source of the cold?

The human standing at the center of the room.

Finnari huddled together at the back of the injured human watching the micro expressions on the lead humans’ face as he toggled through emotions in quick succession.

When he ended, he ended in a place that was suspended between rage and calm. His face grew relaxed, the muscles in his body released, but the sheer anger in his single green eye was enough to make them cower.

The power of the human’s unspoken rage washed over the crowd, until even Narobi the mechanic was silent with it.

“Let me see the evidence.” He said 

LIke the chill they were all feeling, his voice was clipped and soft. The edges unfeathered by slurs or mumbling, each word fell from the tongue like a shard of glass, sharp and precise with delicate cutting edges.

Nairobi came forward something held in the palm of her hand, “You see sir, these gaskets are supposed to be checked every day. This buildup around the head si something you only get when one of these has been left in for a while to allow it to accumulate. Judging from my experience, this gasket has not been checked for over a week.”

Silence in the room.

Another cold wave radiated from the man’s body, and the Finnari huddled even closer together.

A vein on his neck was clearly visible, pulsing along the side of his throat.

The delicate blue lines spidered under his pale skin in the unforgiving light of the engineering fluorescents  from above.

The human stalked forward, his feet nearly silent over the floor despite one being made of metal. He was even on his feet, with no hitch or pause despite his injury.

His mechanical eye remained uncovered and quizzes around the group, its appriture opening and closing and  whirring slightly in the silence as it turned on every face in the room.

They backed away.

He moved forward.

“Whose job was it?” He asked his voice as melodic as hissing wind through forest trees.

Narovi had to lean to the side snatching a clipboard from one of her subordinates before walking forward towards where the Admiral stood.

He glanced at the list, cheeks tightening imperceptibly as he did.

He glanced up

“And tell me, what is the worst case scenario for negligence like this.”

Krill, finished with his work, looked up at the Admiral, having never heard him sound like this before today.

His working green eye flashed with barely contained rage.

“Sir, worst case scenario might have caused a fire of some sort. Someone could have died, luckily we have warning and checks and pressure releases to keep that from happening, but if it had gone on any loner, or if that gasket hadn’t failed like it should have, than this man could have been killed.

Admiral vir paused thoughtfully for a moment before walking over towards the injured man.

The Finnari whimpered and backed away slightly as a hand came down to rest on the man’s shoulder.

“You alright?”

“Yes sir.”

“Head up to the infirmary and take a few days off.”

The man nodded and then paused, “I just need a day sir.”

“Whatever it is you need, you take.” He said, the coldness in his voice replaced by the hints of something warm. He glanced down at the finnari, “Go with him, and keep him company.”

They were only too pleased to leave, and did so without argument.

He waited until the last sounds of their footsteps had faded before turning to the crew.

“Corporal Ridger.” His voice had dropped downwards into ice again, and the entire engineering crew shivered 

No one moved for a moment until a soft set of footsteps came from the shadows and a single man walked onto deck his head down, “Yes sir.”

“You’re fired.”

The entire crew flinched in shock and surprise. The older members of the crew looked at each other in near abject horror having never heard something so definitive pass from the man’s lips before.

The man’s head snapped up, “But sir.”

“But NOTHING!” The Admiral roared. The man lept back in fear cowed by his sudden switch to aggression. When he was silenced, the Admiral switched back to quiet, “Your negligence could have killed someone.”

“I will do better, sir.”

The Admiral shook his head, “No, you won’t. You have already proven that you don’t care about your job. As an engineer I know you knew the potential consequences and yet decided to go through with your decision anyway, which means that a part of you does not care about the safety of this ship and the people on it. Therefore, I can only conclude that you cannot be trusted as a member of my crew.”

“But-”

“Fired!”

The crew sat in stunned silence, “Petty officer, take this man to the brig, and Lieutenant! Set a course for the Europa station.”

“Yes sir.” Two voices chorused in unison before running off.

The man was escorted protesting from the engineering floor.

Nairobi had lost all of her anger brom before and was now staring at Admiral Vir was incredulity.

“Sir, are you sure-” ‘Yes I am sure.” He turned around to the rest of the silent room, his voice calm again arms crossed over his chest, “I know that this may seem harsh to the vast majority of you, but I need you to understand something.”

He paced in a wide circle around the room making eye contact with each and every one of them as he passed.

“This ship relies on you to keep us in the air… you are the only people who stand between us, and death however much you would not like that to be true.”

Silence.

He paced hands behind his back now, “I need you to understand that I will not tolerate negligence. Everyone on this ship needs to be here 100% and dedicated to doing more than the job requires and nothing less than what is asked. Someone could have died today because of what he did, and I will make sure that that does not happen so help me god.”

Body stiff, back straight he turned to look at them one more time, “Now get back to work, or to bed, all of you.”

It was at these words that the group of them scampered away, rattling over the ground and out the door with great abandon.

At the corner of one of those hallways, conn turned to look at Sunny who leaned sideways against the wall.

The look on his face was annoyed.

“Please never think like that when you are around me, ever.” ANd then he floated off.

Admiral Vir waited till they were all gone and then sighed.

All of that just to ruin a nice dream.

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hi! This has probably been discussed already but you know the scene in ‘Bite me’? Could it be possible that Sara was giving Grissom a way out? I.e I’m happy to continue having sex with you even if we are not in a full blow relationship. And why is Grissom talking about feeling suffocated? Could it be that they went from 0 to 10 quickly and now he can’t handle it? From their exchanges in the first part of s6 it seems like the relationship may be on the rocks (thermite!)

hi, anon!

since we have no context for that scene, anything's possible, including the scenario you put forward.

however, that's not my interpretation of what's going on.

the way i see things, neither the "suffocating" exchange of episode 06x03 "bite me" nor the "thermite" exchange of episode 06x12 "daddy's little girl" are actually what they might at first appear to be.

more discussion after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

_____

let's start with the scene from episode 06x03 "bite me":

just judging by grissom and sara's body language and sara's tone of voice when she greets grissom as he walks into the bedroom, there's no hint of perceptible tension between them (just as there's also no hint of perceptible tension between them when they're processing the primary scene on the staircase alongside catherine earlier in the episode).

in fact, sara even seems to perk up a bit—and speak in a higher pitch than her regular conversational voice—when grissom walks into the room, which to me indicates that she is pleased to see him.

were grissom dragging an argument or at least an uncomfortable topic of conversation to work with them from home, then i suspect they'd both be more noticeably uptight when sharing space together.

compare this scene to one in which we know for certain that there is tension between them, like say the exchange from episode 07x23 "the good, the bad, and the dominatrix" when grissom tries to tell sara that he has to help heather because he's the only person she trusts, and sara tersely responds that he should "do what [he needs] to do," even though she's clearly hurt by his course of action. the comportment is just on such a different level; absolute night and day.

if sara had any sense prior to this moment that grissom were feeling smothered in their relationship, and particularly if he had ever intimated as much to her either by saying so directly or implying as much through his behavior or by way of circumlocution, then i suspect she would be much more antsy in his presence going in.

and even if this were a scenario where grissom blindsided sara with feelings he had been carrying for a while but had never intimated to her (either directly or obliquely) prior to this point—so the whole idea that he was "suffocating" was essentially something he sprung on her for the first time right at this moment—then i still suspect things would unfold differently; sara would not be cool enough to respond as placidly as she does.

it wouldn't be in her playbook to be like, "oh, so you're feeling like you can't breathe? is that what you're saying? my bad. you know, if you want, we can take things slower. we don't have to make this a ~relationship~ right away. it can just be a booty call, if you’d rather have things that way. i'm game."

no, for my money, we'd see more visible shock and upset on her face, and she probably wouldn't know what to say. she might later arrive at the conclusion that she needed to emotionally withdraw and be "less clingy" so as not to scare grissom off, but in the moment, she'd be affronted, kind of like what we see from her in episode 09x02 "the happy place" when grissom makes those veiled comments about stagnant relationships which she realizes are directed at her and their dynamic at the time.

here, she just rolls with it.

grissom comes into the room, and she greets him (brightly) and gives him her rundown on what she has observed so far. he remarks that it's odd that this couple has seemingly made plans to spend a romantic evening alone together and yet they don't seem to be sleeping in the same bed, and she responds by throwing out a few suggestions as to why they might elect to do such a thing (such as due to snoring, insomnia, and/or working late into the night). the entire time she's talking, she maintains an upbeat tone that indicates that she's not at all uncomfortable talking to grissom; she's just musing.

he then responds to her suggestions with one of his own—that "maybe [the couple in question] were suffocating each other and he couldn't breathe."

sara regards this suggestion without verbally responding to it. she then immediately returns to processing the bed area, opening up the nightstand drawer to take a look.

though some fans read the expression on sara's face in response to grissom's "suffocating" quip as evidence that she is upset by what he says, i don't think that's necessarily the case.

while she definitely does take a little bit of pause at what he says, i think she's more just trying to figure out a) if his theory is plausible, b) if he has any specific grounds for positing it (i.e., did he maybe find something on his walkthrough in the husband's bedroom that would point him toward the idea of an unhappy marriage?), and c) if there are any other possible explanations for the couple's behavior that might potentially make more sense.

there might also be a small element of, "wait. where is this coming from?" and her wondering if grissom perhaps has something more personal on his mind, but even if there is, it doesn't last for long, because it takes her all of two seconds to get back to processing, and when she next speaks—announcing that she's found sexual lubricant in the nightstand—she doesn't sound at all flustered or upset.

had she felt that grissom were using the details of the case to express his feelings about their relationship, my thought is that she'd be more obviously discomfited and would take longer to "bounce back;" she wouldn't be able to just continue on, business as usual.

to me, it seems as if she either doesn't take grissom's statement personally at all or that if she does she only does so for about half a second before she realizes that he isn't actually lobbing criticism at her and/or their relationship*.

* and, honestly, i don't think he is lobbing criticisms at her/their relationship at all. rather, i think that he is genuinely confused that a married couple who were at liberty to share every aspect of their lives and to spend every night wrapped in each other's arms somehow wouldn't want to do so, as were he ever lucky enough to be in their position and be able to do such things with sara, he'd leap at the opportunity and cannot imagine ever wanting to do otherwise. since the idea that two people who genuinely loved each other might not want to sleep in the same bed even though doing so is definitely an option for them just doesn't compute to him, he leaps to the conclusion that they must not actually love each other and tries to envision a scenario wherein they might come to find each other's company repellant, particularly in terms of bed-sharing.

not only does her ability to continue her investigations both so quickly and so calmly suggest that she's none too rattled by what grissom says, but so does the delayed counter she offers to his theory.

after identifying the sexual lubricant, she waits a beat. then. "you know," she says slyly, "you don't have to sleep in the same bed together to have sex." another beat. "—or have romance."

she looks directly at grissom while she's talking, and her tone is unbothered, even verging on playful. though her addendum ("—or have romance") is delivered somewhat awkwardly, that awkwardness seems to come from the subject matter as opposed to from her vibes with grissom.

in my read, she's not telling grissom "we can just have sex, if that's all you're comfortable with." rather, she's saying, "not every relationship looks the same. just because you and i do things a certain way doesn't mean that other people do."

she's reminding him not to leap to conclusions, particularly given the mixed evidence.

on the one hand, the couple maintains separate bedrooms. on the other hand, there's lube in the nightstand drawer, seemingly recently used. those two pieces of evidence might seem contradictory to each other at first, but they're not necessarily so; there may be a kind of middle ground between them. and since there is that potential middle ground, then grissom should keep an open mind until they know more.

the student has become the master here; it used to be grissom who reminded sara to take a more measured approach, but now she's the one reminding him.

sara is gentle with what she says, and she seems to get through to grissom. he pulls a face as he considers her words, and then takes his leave. as he goes, he appears completely unflustered. he even smiles at sara as he quips that he's going to "go see the doctor."

on her side, sara takes a split second to catch his drift—i.e., that he's headed to see doc robbins about the autopsy—but once she does, she responds in kind, telling him that she'll grid the house and offering him a smile of her own.

to me, these are not the faces of a couple experiencing friction—and especially not to the extent that he'd be throwing around phrases like "suffocating each other" and "can't breathe" in reference to their relationship.

we know what they behave like when they're legitimately uncomfortable around and/or upset with each other (see episodes 01x16 "too tough to die," 07x23 "the good, the bad, and the dominatrix," 09x02 "the happy place," and 16x01 "immortality," pt. i), and, by my estimation, what we see here just doesn't add up in the same way.

to take a step back from the world of the show and speak on a more doylist level, in my opinion, this scene is staged to deliberately deceive.

remember, when the show was originally airing, nobody but the production team knew for certain that grissom and sara were sleeping together at this point. (a few fans had their suspicions, but nothing had been confirmed.) tptb intended to reveal that such was the case during the events of episode 06x05 "gum drops,"* but until then, they were going to play coy as much as possible.

* their plans only changed at the last minute when billy became unavailable to film that episode as scheduled.

in the grand trajectory of gsr, though fans had started out the show feeling like grissom and sara had a good possibility of getting together sooner rather than later, the shitshow that had been s3 and s4—and especially the fact that grissom had outright rejected sara's invitation to embark on a relationship—had caused even many of the most resolute shippers to doubt the possibility that they would ever "go canon." only after grissom and sara's flirtation steadily ramped up again throughout the course of s5 had the diehards begun to wonder if maybe some hope for them might still exist after all.

the writers knew where people were sitting and were actually banking on the fact that given all of the gsr back-and-forth over the years, very few people were likely to suspect that at the start of s6 grissom and sara were actually already together. even among those who had recently swung back around to thinking that grissom and sara still might have some “juice,” many believed that them coming together was an eventuality and not something that had already happened (and much less happened off-screen!).

scenes like this one were meant to be red herrings, crafted to cast doubt on the nature of grissom and sara's relationship in the eyes of the audience (including those viewers who did suspect that maybe grissom and sara were already secretly together) until the time when the writers were actually ready to drop the big reveal at last.

watching this scene without already knowing the secret that grissom and sara are together, one has to wonder what's going on. clearly, there's some kind of subtext in play—something happening between them below the surface—but it's hard to say whether that subtext is positive or negative in nature, much less what exactly it means.

just doing a superficial reading, it might seem that grissom were telling sara (once again) to back down, the same as he did back in episode 03x22 "play with fire." it might also seem that sara were offering him a no-strings-attached sexual relationship and he were blowing her off, like a proposition gone bad.

but then the vibes in the scene don't exactly seem to match up with the dialogue; something is amiss, particularly as both grissom and sara appear a smidge too happy there at the end to truly be mad at each other.

lacking the proper context to figure things out, the uninitiated audience member has no choice but to shrug and say, "hm. wonder what that's all about. weird," and move on.

of course, the original goal was that this scene would serve as prelude to the fabled "hotel reveal" in episode 06x05 "gum drops," set to air just two weeks later.

while learning that grissom and sara were together during the events of episode 06x05 "gum drops" wouldn't exactly clarify the meaning of the scene from episode 06x03 "bite me," it would provide some retroactive context, helping the audience to understand that, yes, there was something personal in play during the exchange in the bedroom.

after the "gum drops" reveal got derailed, the game changed from small to long ball. whereas the writers had originally planned to use the "we're going to show you this out-of-context gsr scene and leave you to wonder about what it's implying" trick just that once in episode 06x03 "bite me," they ended up employing it multiple times throughout the rest of the season before moving the reveal all the way back to episode 06x24 "way to go."

with more space to work in, the writers really decided to ramp up the stakes, toying with the audience's notions of what the nature of grissom and sara's relationship was. did they hate each other? were they just friends? were they maybe carrying on a secret relationship? the writers tried to play things in such a manner so that not only were all possibilities open, but the audience's collective sense of what was what would change every week (or sometimes within the course of a single episode).

that's why they throw in sara acting jealous of sofia talking to grissom but then later "going on a walk with him" in episode 06x08 "a bullet runs through it" pt. ii, the "gray hair can be very attractive scene" in episode 06x13 "kiss-kiss, bang-bang," sara's anti-marriage spiels in episode 06x21 "rashomama," etc.—to constantly keep viewers guessing, right up to the end.

that's also where the thermite scene in episode 06x12 "daddy's little girl" comes in—as another attempt to throw the audience off of the scent of what's really going on.

to me, it's another example where, though on a surface level, it might seem like grissom and sara are fighting and not on good terms with each other, the truth is actually probably much more benign or at least not intentionally harmful.

my basic interpretation is that grissom doesn't mean to say anything hurtful to sara when he's talking about the thermite and instead is just trying to show off to her with an elaborate science metaphor. unfortunately, in so doing, he reminds her of a toxic relationship in her life—not theirs but her parents'.

to quote from this post at length:

if you really pick apart grissom’s explanation of thermite, it doesn’t sound anything like his and sara’s relationship.

while they can both be stubborn individuals and bad at communicating, neither one of them is the type of person to “explode” at the other. from what we’ve seen on the show, their pattern of behavior when they’re fighting with each other is to be passive-aggressive and to give the silent treatment. they don’t have screaming, blowout fights.

they also aren’t inherently bad for each other; though they can both be a little dramatic, in grissom’s own words, sara restores his faith in humanity, and, according to sara, she feels like grissom loves her for who she is and understands her in a way that no one else does.

for as much heartache and runaround as it takes for them to finally get together, once they are together, they’re good for each other. they’re not this explosive toxic cocktail of catalytic elements.

but do you know who is?

allow me to direct your attention to a conversation sara has with greg in episode 15x12 “dead woods,” namely:

ss: “i have a lot of nice memories of [my dad]. my mom, too. they were toxic when they were together, though.” gs: “your mom said your dad was abusive? she killed him in self-defense?” ss: “that’s what she said.” gs: “you don’t believe her? ss: “look, i know my dad wasn’t a saint, but my mom was an alcoholic who suffered from mental illness. i’m just not sure that things were as black and white as she made them out to be.” gs: “well, you did say they had a volatile relationship.” ss: “fact is, i’ll never know what happened that night.”

while grissom’s thermite explanation doesn’t sound very much like him and sara, it does sound an awful lot like sara’s parents, who screamed at and fought with and hurt each other, traumatizing their daughter in the process, until finally one of them took the other’s life and wound up institutionalized after doing so.

so here’s what i’m thinking:

grissom goes off on his thermite metaphor, supposing that it will impress sara because it’s perceptive and scientific and even in some ways beautiful—but instead what it does is trigger her, reminding her of the domestic violence she grew up with.

grissom doesn’t realize that this is what is happening at first, but then sara says “i guess some people just shouldn’t be together” in that sad, small, faraway voice, and suddenly he understands just what his metaphor means to her.

his eyes widen because he knows what images and memories he’s conjured for her, and he wishes he could go back in time to stop himself from saying something so potentially upsetting in her presence.

to my mind, this scene and the one in episode 06x03 "bite me" appear to be one thing on the surface but are really another in nature, and we as viewers—and particularly ones with the benefit of already knowing that grissom and sara are together throughout the entirety of s6—can tell that they are so not only by subtle cues within the scenes themselves but also just based on the pacing of the gsr relationship overall.

of course, we don't know exactly when grissom and sara officially get together in las vegas, except that it's sometime in 2005.

to my mind, it happens no sooner than the events of episode 05x13 "nesting dolls" and no later than the start of s6, with my personal favored date being sometime circa mid-s5.

in any case, if we stick within that general window, then by the time s6 starts, grissom and sara have already been together in some capacity for anywhere between three (at minimum) to eight months (at maximum).

with that timeline in mind, we can then track the ebbs and flows of their relationship (as we see it play out on screen) as follows, with the bolded text representing positive interactions and noninteractive periods and regular text any interaction that could even possibly be construed as negative:

their interactions in episodes 06x01 "bodies in motion" and 06x02 "room service" are decidedly positive.

then we get the seemingly ~ambiguous~ "suffocating" scene in episode 06x03 "bite me."

they don't interact much (on screen) between episodes 06x04 "shooting stars" and 06x06 "secrets and flies." however, it's worth noting that episode 06x05 "gum drops" was originally intended to contain the big reveal that they were secretly dating.

episodes 06x07 and 06x08 "a bullet runs through it" pts. i and ii bring a mixed bag, with sara getting upset when grissom has sofia in his office while she's meant to be on administrative leave but then appearing to "forgive him" later on in the episode as they continue to work on the case together.

again, they don't really interact much (on screen) in episodes 06x09 "dog eat dog," 06x10 "still life," or 06x11 "werewolves."

then in episode 06x12 "daddy's little girl," we get the thermite exchange, as discussed above.

in episode 06x13 "kiss-kiss, bang-bang," we're back to gsr positivity.

ditto for episode 06x14 "killer."

again, not much (on screen) interaction between episodes 06x15 "pirates of the third reich" and 06x19 "spellbound."

then nothing but positivity between episodes 06x20 "poppin' tags" and the season finale 06x24 "way to go," which, of course, culminates with the big reveal that they are actually together and have been for a long time.

when we lay things all out this way, honestly, there are only a handful of instances of gsr interaction throughout s6 that seem even remotely negative, and not only are they bookended by positive interactions on either side of them (sometimes even within the same episodes in which they originally take place), but two out of three of them are ambiguous in nature, and, as described above, are likely far less negative altogether than they might appear at first blush.

—and to me, in a relationship that's less than a year old but is taking place between two people who have literally been in love with each other for years already, that trajectory makes sense.

i mean, yes, grissom and sara have a lot of individual fears and hang-ups, but the thing is, they're really, truly thrilled to finally be together after so much time; especially at this early point out of the gate, they both feel like finally having each other is the best thing to ever happen to them.

that so, i don't think they're in the habit of dragging fights about their relationship into work—because, frankly, those kinds of fights just aren't taking place.

neither one of them feels as if what's between them is suffocating or toxic. while they're both still nervous that perhaps the other person is not yet as fully invested in sharing a future together as they are themselves and/or that someday their relationship will inevitably fall apart, the truth is that they're happy overall—very much so—and that's what compels them to keep going in the relationship, despite their fears and trepidations.

anyhow, that's my take.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

[fairfowl]

Niceties Like Coffins (I'll Make You a Cup of Tea)

Of the six of them, Five and Klaus were the ones who had never really had the chance to grieve for Ben. Klaus seeks solace in the tangible, Five resolves that he will never be like Reginald. Five is the kind of man who will do anything for his siblings

The door to Ben’s room had been closed for the entire first week that Five had spent in 2019. It had been a small detail. Something that he hadn’t pursued, too preoccupied with attempting to literally save the world.

After their return it had remained so. The door remained tightly shut and blended into the hallway as if there had never been another child who had lived and breathed and grown with the rest of them. The small gap between the bottom of the door and the hardwood floor of the hallway had a layer of dust that even Grace had never disturbed. 

It irked Five slightly.

Upon his return he’d gone back to his childhood bedroom to find it immaculately clean. The books and papers that he’d left were mostly undisturbed, but it was clear that he had not been the last person in that bedroom.

Why would Ben’s room have been left undisturbed but not Five’s? 

So when he passed by the door to Ben’s room on the evening of April 5th 2019 and found that it was open Five’s curiosity was piqued. 

What could he do but look inside? 

If only to learn why the room had been opened for the first time in so many years.

Five had not been present for Ben’s death (neither the first nor the second). It was something that he had found himself regretting in the past few slow solemn days. Prior to their return on the second of April he simply hadn’t had time to dwell, but it hadn’t stopped him from missing his brother. 

When they had been children he and Five had gotten along well, and Five wondered if his gambit to stop the apocalypse would have gone smoother if Ben had been with them.

But he had been with them.

And Five had been careless enough to let that fact slip through his fingers. He’d squandered both a potentially valuable asset as well as his final chance to see the one sibling that he just could not save.

Now it was too late. 

The door, which had, in truth, been cracked more than truly open, creaked on its hinges as Five pushed past. It was likely the only door in the house with creaking hinges. Five was beginning to suspect that Reginald had for some reason seen fit to ban Grace from acknowledging the room’s existence altogether. He was not prepared for the spike of sadness that ran through his chest at the thought. 

The room’s interior was dark. A waning sunset filtered in through heavy gray curtains, illuminating shelves upon shelves of books with colorful paperback colors—Five guessed that they were mostly fiction, his brother had always enjoyed adventures and had been working through a pile of classics when Five had disappeared. 

While the two of them had both been readers they’d always had vastly different taste. 

There had been a time when they’d both liked sci-fi.

Five remembered passing a copy of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea back and forth under their school desks, each taking a turn reading a chapter before moving on, reading the notes they’d scribbled to each other in the margins.

He wondered what had become of that copy.

Something suddenly moved on the bed and Five immediately tensed, shifting into a fighting stance before his eyes had the chance to communicate with his brain. The dim light threw the entire room into shadow and the bed might as well have been a gaping hole into the void for all that Five could make out it’s features.

But the void was breathing. 

Over the sound of his heartbeat Five could hear it.

Warily he approached. 

As he moved closer Five’s eyes adjusted and he recognized Klaus’ gangly form sprawled ungracefully across the still-covered bed. His arms were wrapped around the pillow and his head thrown back exposing his pale neck in an uncomfortably vulnerable position. 

Five paused, still wary, if for a different reason. 

He’d barely spoken to Klaus. Not since that one afternoon just under two weeks ago when he’d coerced his brother into putting on one of Reginald’s suits and attempting to gather information from Meritech. 

It was another just thing that he hadn’t had time to pursue yet, another thing that had slipped away from him. 

They might as well have been strangers. He’d disappeared when they were thirteen, reappeared seventeen years later, and then Klaus had lived at least three—possibly four—more years more without seeing Five or anyone else in the family. 

They’d grown up together but that was a lifetime of trauma away from both of their perspectives.

Five heaved a sigh and stared at his brother on the bed.

In a way it made sense that both of them were here. Of all the living siblings Five and Klaus were the only ones who had never really mourned Ben before. 

Five because he’d only read about it well after the fact in Vanya’s book, months after burying siblings one through four. Even as a scared traumatized child he’d known better to hope that Ben had somehow survived the apocalypse, so when he found out that he had died just three years after Five had disappeared it had been a surprise, but not enough to really shock his already numb psyche.  

Klaus because despite the fact that he had been present at the time of Ben’s death his brother had never really left him. 

Five could only speculate how constant Ben’s presence had been in Klaus’s life, but it was apparent that Ben had haunted Klaus for longer than he’d actually been alive. If he’d been present from when they were sixteen until six days ago when Klaus had attempted to fight his way towards Vanya then Ben's ghost had followed Klaus for a not insignificant seventeen years. 

So Klaus was grieving. 

Which would partially explain why he was curled up on top of Ben's long-neglected bed with tear traces running down his pale face. 

Five nearly turned away and left Klaus to grieve in peace. He had never been comfortable dealing with emotions, be they be someone else's or his own. But as he began to turn Klaus's breath hitched. 

Where previously it had been rasping but slow, the sound picked up into sharp gasps as Klaus’ limbs shifted on the bed. 

He wasn’t awake—not yet. It was probably just a nightmare.

Five could still walk away. 

But the tear tracks of Klaus’ cheeks were still wet and his brother looked so devastated. How could he leave one of his siblings in such pain when there was something that he could do to help? Even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone? 

Five had killed plenty of people in their sleep. He had never awoken someone who was having a nightmare before. 

Less than four feet in front of him Klaus had begun to sob in his sleep.

Enough was enough. 

“Klaus.” He spoke at normal volume, without inflection. Five wasn’t even sure if he could summon a gentle tone if he’d wanted to. On the bed Klaus began to mutter, just as lost to the waking world as he had been thirty seconds ago.

“Where are you?” It was hard to understand what Klaus was saying (slurring really) through the sleep and the tears but a few words came out clearly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Klaus you need to wake up.” Five stepped closer, hoping wildly that Klaus would somehow sense his proximity and wake on his own. It was dangerous to lose yourself in unconsciousness as most people did, and Five had learned long ago that he was safest as a light sleeper. 

Klaus made a sound like a wounded animal and twisted on the bed. One of his long knobby legs kicked out and then hung off of the edge of the mattress, his sweat mixed with tears as his breaths came in quick gasps. 

Something ugly curled in Fives, chest. It made his own breath quicken and his hands twitch. Inside his body Five’s adrenal glands tried to prompt him into action but it was not the time for fight or flight no matter what his instincts told him. 

Instead he reached out and grasped Klaus’s shoulder, giving it a hard shake. 

“Klaus, wake up!” 

And Klaus awoke. Wild eyes opened and flitted across the room frantically as Klaus shot into a sitting position, gasping for breath. His gasp immediately turned into a hacking cough, which in turn became a fit. 

Five took a step back, in part to allow Klaus to get his bearings, but also partially to avoid being coughed on. Gross. 

He didn't like the way that his brother hunched in on himself. 

It felt wrong to see him make himself small. 

Klaus was always so loud, larger than life and glaringly glitteringly visible. When they’d been children Reginald had obviously loathed Klaus’s need for attention, and repeatedly scolded him for seeking it out until the idea had become ingrained into all of their psyches. 

Everything Klaus did he did for attention. Klaus was not someone to take seriously. Everything was a joke to Klaus. 

Five wasn’t sure if he’d ever really believed any of it, but enough had sunk in for it to become Five’s knee-jerk reaction when he was being careless. He had just spent weeks not taking Klaus seriously. 

“Five?” When had his brother’s voice started to sound so defeated? Under the hoarseness from the cough there was an edge of exhaustion that Five was startled to realize reminded him of himself. 

Five and Klaus had always been polar opposites. 

They weren’t supposed to have anything in common. 

“What are you doing in here?” They said it in tandem, Klaus’s exhausted croak discordant with Five’s sharp too-high voice. 

“The door was open.” Five responded, directing every subtlety of his body language to indicate that his answer was finished, and that he had no plans to elaborate. Instead he tilted his head and waited for Klaus to give his own reason. Far a short absurd moment he felt like an impatient teacher awaiting a response from an inattentive student.

Instead of replying Klaus looked away, his eyes fixing on some point between his head and the wall.  His breaths were still too fast, and still rasping.

“Klaus.” He prompted. “Why are you in here?”

Klaus was so far away that he might as well have still been asleep. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright with what Five suspected was a fever, he looked disheveled, unwashed and unmoored. Drifting. 

There had been times when Five had drifted, alone and surrounded by ash. 

Five decided that he would need to touch Klaus again.

He wondered if he would have drifted less, had there been someone around who could touch him when he’d been so alone. 

He resolved his courage and rested a hand on his brother’s shivering shoulder. 

Five was not the sort of man who willingly initiated touch. 

Five was the sort of man who would do anything for his family. 

Klaus did not stop shivering, but his breaths slowed, and Five counted that as a minor victory. 

“I just wanted something.” Klaus said finally, his oft-raucous voice a whisper. “Something to remind me that he was there. I miss him so much Five, I thought it would help.”

From Klaus’s tone Five inferred that it hadn’t helped at all. He began to rub Klaus’s shoulder, ignoring the uncomfortable dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt, and waiting as patiently as he could manage for Klaus to continue.  

“But this isn’t really Ben’s stuff anymore, the Ben I knew hadn’t lived here for twenty years.” Klaus shuddered under his touch. “This is just stuff from when he was a kid.”

There was a desperation to his expression that made the ugly thing in Five’s chest writhe. 

 “There’s really nothing left.” Klaus’s hoarse voice finally cracked and he let out a breathless sob, hunched on top of the neat little twin bed. “I don’t know what to do Five.” 

Five knew grief. 

Grief had followed him like a  shadow throughout most of his life, and no matter what he’d gained back via time travel, pain like that left an indelible mark upon a person’s mind. 

But he was a stranger to the grief of others. 

And grief was such a volatile thing, the sort of trauma that changed people in unexpected, sometimes unpleasant ways. 

He sat beside his brother and wrapped his arm around him, pulling Klaus against his side. The contact was an adrenaline rush, alarming and unfamiliar to his touch-starved brain. Part of him embraced it, lapping at the content like a ravenous animal. Most of him wanted to let go and move away, to reestablish the boundary of personal space that Five had so carefully curated. 

Five held on, steadying Klaus as he shook and coughed and sobbed. 

He was the sort of man who would do anything for his family. 

Eventually Klaus cried himself out. 

Night had long fallen by the time that Klaus sat up, leaning unsteadily against Five. 

“Thank you.” He said, his eyes were downcast as though he had something to be ashamed of. The statement was followed by a wheezing cough.

“Let’s get out of here. I’ve been in tombs less dusty than this.” Five did not miss the way that Klaus flinched at his words but he didn’t understand what part of his sentence could have been upsetting. He filed away the thought to examine later. 

Thankfully Klaus didn’t argue and he let Five pull him into a standing position and lead him into the hallway without a fuss. His brother’s steps were unsteady, wavering. Klaus trailed his free hand against any wall or piece of furniture that he could reach until they made it to the door to his bedroom. Then he balked.

Five looked at him with curiosity and perhaps a hint of impatience. 

Klaus stared at the door as though he was looking into his own coffin. 

Not that he’d had a coffin the first time around. 

Five had barely been able to bury all of them before they started to rot in earnest, he hadn’t had time for niceties like coffins.  

“What now?” Five said, because he was not a patient person by nature.

“I don’t want to be alone right now.” The statement was so candid that Five can’t help but feel a bit bowled over. There’s such an open vulnerability to it, the sort of sentence that would have turned Reginald’s eyes hard and cruel. 

In another world Five might have responded in the same way, it would have been easy to start responding to the emotions of others with disgust. 

He’d never be asked to respond in kind if he gave in and allowed his immediate reaction to be scorn. 

Kindness was infinitely harder. 

Five would do anything for his family. 

He wasn’t Reginald. 

He’s not about to drag Klaus screaming into the dark. 

As a child he’d never questioned where their father was taking Klaus. They all went off to different parts of the property for their individual training sessions, but none of them had screamed the way that Klaus had. They’d all looked hollow and exhausted upon their return, they’d all acquired strange injuries and unexplained phobias. Five hadn’t questioned it. He’d taken it as a fact of life. 

But now standing in front of Klaus’s door, with a hand on his brother’s elbow Five resolves that he will never be like Reginald. 

“Let’s go downstairs then.” He said, voice toneless and commanding in the way he’d learned at the Commission. “I left my composition book by the coffeemaker and I need to finish some equations tonight.”

Klaus turned to look at him, eyes hopeful and fever-bright. 

“Okay.” He said.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea.”