#wouldn't even have to take it out of the case

[xblackkurox]

Nanami Kento breeding his wife. nsfw, mdni!

Some thoughts that keep me entertained at work lmao, so might be full of mistakes. English is not my first language and all that yk.

Couldn't stand the thought of not having any smut of this man in my page since he is the love of my life.

His cock drills into your cunt, again and again, in and out, in and out. His tip kisses your cervix with each single slam of his hips, legs folded so your knees press against your boobs.

Kento has you in the meanest matting press, big hands pressing at the back of your full thighs surely leaving red or even purple marks.

"Don't see you laughing anymore, pretty. What happened?" And no, you're not laughing, fat tears stream down your flushed cheeks instead.

"Fuck- look at that mmmphf!" He groans, narrow eyes zeroing in how his girth is being sucked in by your cunt. A ring of cum, both his and yours, on the base of his dick, each time he bottoms out it sticks messily to your folds. It's so lewd, even your mound and his pubis are stained with it.

"Hah- gonna stuff this soft tummy full of my cum, hmm? Get my pretty wife pregnant. Isn't that what you wanted?"

It had all started earlier that afternoon, while he was at work. You had attempted to pull one of your little pranks on him, sending a picture of a fake positive pregnancy test. Little did you know that your husband had been having a sever case of baby fever and that had been his last straw.

He had felt joyful, completely thrilled for becoming a dad, or that was until you sent another message. Laughing it off, saying it was just a joke.

Well, he had a mission now. He was going to put a baby inside you, so next time that positive wouldn't be a little prank of yours, but a real one.

It's been two hours since he got home from work, two hours of him pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and himself. And still his cock was hard and twitching inside you. Hitting that spot within that made you see sparks behind your eyelids, stretching you to full capacity.

"K-kentooooo..." You whine. Hot and fresh tears spilling from your eyes, rolling down your flushed cheeks until you can taste the salty flavor on your lips. "Can't- can't take it anymore-!"

"Hmm? But you're about to cum... Lying again?" And he is right, he can see it in how your toes are curling, feel it in how you grip his cock from the inside. He knows when his wife is about to orgasm.

And just to proof his point one of his hands uncurls from your ankle. Gold and cold wedding ring caressing your folds, right above where he's pounding you. He caresses from down to up a couple times, getting the alliance stained with your juices before replacing it by his thumb. He flickers your clit, slowly but with pressure. And when you mewl he laughs.

"See? She never lies." And he's referring to your pussy. "Come on, give it to me baby- ah! You can do it- can fucking do it my love!"

That's all it takes, his raspy moany voice cooing you to cum. How could you disobey? Of course the moment those words spill his mouth you're creaming his dick again. Shaking and whimpering so adorably, making his heart flutter. Oh, he can't wait to see you all plump and round with his child.

Kento is peppering you soaked face with butterfly kisses, on your nose, on your cheeks, on your eyelids. And of course on your glossy lips. His whole weight now pinning you down on the mattress.

"There you go, so good so so sooo good for me- my wife mmmphf-!" He's gonna cum too, his hips are getting more erratic, more sloppy, more feral. "Gonna cum, my love. Gonna put my baby in you, yes? Make you my beautiful pregnant wife- fuckfuck- you're gonna look so b-beautiful... I love you sooo much-" He's ranting, praises spilling through clenched teeth as if they were curses. In between small pecks here and there.

He cums right after, stilling his body as he buries his girth to the hilt. Rope after rope of hot seed right into your womb. And of course he doesn't pull out after no, he remains inside you. Not allowing one single drop going to waste.

He's gotta breed you afterall, right?

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Bashir falls asleep in front of Garak, and Garak, still strikingly unused to intimacy in any form, has... rather a lot of feelings about it. Sentiment. He knew already that he was far past the point of no return, as far as sentiment went, but it still surprises him, sometimes, to see just how much the contagion affects him.

In this case, it takes the form of paralysis. He sits there, heart in his throat, just watching Bashir, hardly able to move for fear of disturbing him, of waking him and breaking the illusion - or worse, waking himself, and discovering that it was all some wretched hallucination, yet another sign of his weakness, because surely it can't be real.

How could it? what do you mean this soft Starfleet doctor trusts him that much? Doesn't Bashir know he's a spy? He's killed people! More of them than he can count! And Bashir is snoozing away, seemingly unaware that he could be murdered. His head is tilted back against the couch, and that long, oh-so-fragile human throat is exposed, utterly defenseless - Garak wouldn't even have to try to slice through his neck. The skin would split as easy as a flower petal. He wouldn't even need a knife, though he certainly has one on him, with how thin human skin is! His claws or teeth would do the job just fine.

And Bashir doesn't even care! He's just... sitting there, sleeping. As though Garak is safe. Which surely he can't actually believe. It's simply beyond the realm of possibility.

Which means, certainly, that it isn't real. It can't be.

Still, Garak can't bring himself to stand. If it is only a dream, then it hardly hurts to indulge in it, just a little. To entertain the illusion that Doctor Bashir could feel secure with him, someday. So, he sits and he watches, tracing each motion of the Doctor's chest with his eyes, and he expects that at any moment he will wake up.

He doesn't, though. He stays seated, watching Bashir, and with every moment that passes it feels a little more real, and simultaneously a little more impossible.

Just under an hour later, when Bashir finally jolts awake, hair ruffled and gaze soft, Garak is still there, hardly moved an inch. Maybe Bashir notices that his position didn't change, maybe he doesn't, but either way, he smiles sheepishly at Garak, and apologizes for falling asleep on him.

Garak stands, feeling more in a dream then ever before, and assures Bashir that of course he needn't worry. It was no inconvenience. Then Bashir looks at the time, and apologizes again, this time for needing to leave so soon after waking up. He darts for the door, but not before reaching out and placing a hand on Garak's shoulder, beaming.

And Garak, now alone, can't help but stare after him, almost dizzy with emotions that he can't parse as his shoulder burns with the lingering imprint of Bashir's touch.

[anamericangirl]

"See you dont understand law."

Lmao. I literally went to law school. I'm a certified paralegal (that is a person who does the majority of the actual legal work that lawyers are credited for) and I've worked in law. I have a pretty well documented history of understanding law so if there is one of us here who doesn't "understand law" it's certainly not me.

"If it was as cut and dry as you were making it, there would be zero malpractice lawsuits."

That's not just a statement that shows you have no understanding of how law works it shows that you just lack common sense. Sorry but "If it were cut and dry there wouldn't be any lawsuits" is an objectively stupid statement.

"A medical expert would testify and say "I agree with what the doctor did" or they would say "No I would have to say the decisions they took were unreasonable for X Y and Z reasons". And yet these court cases arnt cut and dry."

I would encourage to research something called "the judicial system" and learn how court cases work. It sounds like you get all your information from TV shows. You thinking all a lawsuit takes is the testimony of an expert witness illustrates that this subject matter is way too advanced for your current intellectual abilities.

"Sec. 170A.004. CRIMINAL OFFENSE.

There I found the hidden oppression! Im sorry you dont understand how things work, but that is okay! I pointed it out for you!

See if it is a first degree criminal offense.... uhhh here it is!

12.32. FIRST DEGREE FELONY PUNISHMENT. (a) An individual adjudged guilty of a felony of the first degree shall be punished by imprisonment in the Texas Department of Criminal Justice for life or for any term of not more than 99 years or less than 5 years.

No less than 5 years!

That is why not because doctors are doing political stunts with women's bodies but the state of Texas is."

I don't know what you think you just proved but I'm sitting here laughing that you think this debunked anything I said. Yes, abortion is prohibited in Texas and is a criminal offense if performed in a situation that was not considered a medical emergency.

You responded to nothing I said. You showing the part of the abortion law that says abortion is a criminal offense if it's not considered a medical emergency is information we were both already aware of and were discussing. In the case being discussed in the article abortion would not have been considered a criminal offense because it falls under the exceptions.

And I notice you couldn't even respond to anything I said and just ignored the fact that the woman was treated, the baby was removed and she still died of sepsis and had she had an abortion it likely would have ended the same way.

So again, you are a failure in explaining in any way shape or form why abortion was needed here and how abortion laws had anything to do with this case when that wasn't even the treatment the doctors were seeking and how the abortion laws prevented her from being treated when she actually was treated and why you think having an abortion would have prevented her from getting sepsis.

All you're doing here is proving that people are only pro-abortion because they are embarrassingly uneducated and lack even basic thinking skills.

[drdemonprince]

I remember a while back you did a fun ask game where people sent in kinks and you rated how good an investment they are and it keeps popping into my mind because of how chill you were about kinks that even kinky people tend to view really negatively in the sense of ethics. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to *feel* chill in terms of my own kink ethics. I intellectually believe that fantasies can’t be immoral and that kink with other adults is moral as long as there is consent (and appropriate risk awareness).

But I am still pretty triggered on the topic when it comes up. Eg, earlier a friend told me they are cutting someone they love off for being friends with someone who “sexualizes trauma”. And yeah, that is definitely where some of my darker kinks come from—though not all. They’re entitled to that opinion and action of course! But hearing all the things they said against this person triggered me, making me feel like I’m dangerous and that it is wrong of me to interact with them going forward even though this isn’t a topic I would discuss with them anyway. Until writing this I hadn’t even considered if they are still a person I *want* to interact with given this. Though I’m sort of unclear on whether it is actually wrong of me to interact with them still.

I am working with my therapist on this. And I know it will take some time to work through. I was just wondering if you had any words of wisdom on the topic.

My thoughts are that if I had a friend who cut people off for having problematic (or in this case, just like, unsettling?) kinks, I would not feel safe around that friend. It would seem to me that they were judgemental, moralizing, and had a completely different viewpoint on how the world operated than I did, and that sooner or later they would demonize me for things I thought, fantasized about, felt, and so on. I might have sympathy if the person was a trauma survivor early in their recovery, as it's quite common for people to think in very dogmatic, black-and-white ways about morality in order to protect themselves and to be highly reactive to perceived threat. But their feelings of safety are their own business to guard over, and mine are mine, and I just wouldn't be able to get along very intimately with someone like that. I'd have to give them a wide berth until they started to get over it, if they got over it.

Recently, a friend of mine was completely ostracized from their local queer community simply for writing a piece that touched on a taboo fantasy -- a taboo fantasy they had concocted as a way to cope with some really gnarly early childhood abuse. They lost performance gigs and friends, had hate campaigns erected against them, had mobs of people threatening all their remaining friends and colleages, all based on a rumor about a piece that they never even got to perform anywhere because someone had heard it was about a taboo subject and even the IDEA of what it might be made them uncomfortable, and so they assumed my friend was condoning abuse when they were literally just describing what had already happened to them and how they found healing from it. Shit like this sucks, and it comes down most heavily against queer people, especially trans femmes, and I've seen the fear mongering ruin enough lives that I try to steer really clear of it.

My life has been so blessed by inclusion of people with really intense, taboo, stigmatized kinks into my life. I was afraid to even breathe a word of my hypnosis fetish to anybody until I was in my late 20s, because I thought it was so freakish and evil. and now I routinely talk with people about really animalistic feral fantasies, harkness rule violating monsterfucking, rape play, necro fantasies, abdl, age regression, incest roleplaying, blood, eating bodily fluids, and everything else that freaks people out but harms no living being. Even when it's not my stuff, even when it's something I might personally find a little squicky to actually be in the room with, it makes me feel seen, safe, and free to express the depths within me. I think surrounding yourself with more people like that or just consuming their stories can help a lot. And trying to find some mental distance from the people who do fear monger and get triggered. They have their reasons for feeling as they do. But that doesn't mean we have to align with their values or actions.

[korrasera]

Like I said, this is a good example. When you're arrogant you tend to think you know everything despite being uninformed about the topic you're talking about. People who are like this also tend to either react really poorly or retreat into their talking points when called on it.

As an example, aside from the fact that Israel isn't a vassal state just being obvious on its face, you can also look at that talking point up there about Biden sending smaller amounts to bypass Congress, which is just straight up not what happened.

It's because people like the above don't understand what the congressional bypass is or how it works.

The US sends aid to Israel every year. Period. We've done it since the country was founded. The power to send that aid, in the form of military sales, is invested in the office of the US president. Congress has a 15 day period to review such sales before they go through. If Congress wants to block the sale, they can pass a joint resolution to do so, but no Congress ever has.

In the case of what Biden did, he didn't choose smaller amounts to bypass Congress, he used a waiver that's also part of his powers to send aid in situations where it's deemed a special case, something Biden did to provide aid to both Israel and Ukraine. If he'd sent smaller amounts of aid he wouldn't have needed the waiver at all because Congress wouldn't even get a chance to review it.

So, as you can see:

These arguments try to convince you of is that Biden is some sort of genocidal cowboy that's bypassing the checks and balances meant to keep deals like this from moving forward. That's not just propaganda, it's not just false, it also demonstrates that the person making the argument doesn't know anything they're talking about.

Also, this aid is the aid that was delayed, by years, by Biden, as a political poker chip.

Oh, sorry Bibi, we approved the aid but you know it's just going to take forever and also why don't you listen to all of the military advisors we sent over telling you that you should stay the hell out of Gaza?

As an example, the last time that I know of where the US did something even remotely like this was when Reagan banned the sale of cluster munitions to Israel because the Israeli government had been using them to strike civilian targets. And apparently even Reagan had a limit.

Is the US complicit in Israel's genocide? Absolutely. Unfortunately, it's just part of being an American. We've been fighting constantly to tear out the authoritarian warmongering parts of our society and this is as far as we've gotten.

Is the US a fascist genocidal state? No, not literally and not figuratively. We are very much a people working to build a better tomorrow, built on unthinkable bloodshed and crimes against humanity.

We have not yet won that fight, but it is absolutely going in our direction, and the work the Biden administration has put in to oppose Netanyahu's government is a sign that it's gotten better. His administration is the first one that's taken meaningful steps to rehabilitate our foreign policy towards Israel.

It really sucks that all of that progress is going to be lost when Trump takes power, but we've been knocked down by setbacks before. We're not done fighting.

Don't listen to propaganda. Don't let people tell you it's hopeless. They're just scared and looking for you to be scared with them.

Be brave instead. Fight.

We tried to warn you, and you wouldn’t listen to us over the sound of your own self-righteousness. You must be so proud of yourselves.

[meo-eiru]

I kinda like the small yet big detail in the game, like I'm sure myself and some other people were expecting a wholesome dating sim that would also get quite spicy (FROM HOW WE KNOW MERU)

And we all just kinda got kicked in the butt, like Starling being too hot to be true yet so terrifying at the same time, but not the terrifying kind that we know, like Micah or Silas etc

More like the type that makes you forget that he still is more a siren than a merman, like he successfully managed to lure in the whole community with his hot ass😭😭and then we get backstabbed by him munching our fingers off as if they're some carrots, like as a simple lunch snack-💀💀

Or in the other ending where it's basically simply Mae dying and getting turned into a possession and probably just another body to fill up with tongues

From my interpretation, Starling doesn't really have that kind of romantic interest in Mae, but she kinda thought it could go into that direction, but then got stabbed in the back like that😭😭(probs everyone who played it, thought like Mae there too kinda💀so we all got the betrayal🙁)

And you guys did a really good job in simply catching us all off guard in most scenes, it's it's beautifully written and drawn, I love that game so much!!!

Spoilers for the game

Honestly maybe Sel would give a different answer but I do think Starling likes Maelyn. Due to his past and what he has now become his way of showing it is probably different, but for Starling I don't think Maelyn is just another body for storing tongues. If that was the case he wouldn't have went out of his way to clean her body up, find a wedding dress and "marry" her in his own makeshift way.

He probably didn't even view it as a betrayal. Because until the very end Starling was making sure the no longer breathing Maelyn could be comfortable in her pearl necklace.

For the writing style, probably Sel writing the story played a big part in this.

Sel and I have very similar tastes in a lot of things, on levels I myself can't believe sometimes. But we do have a different style at how we depict similar concepts.

I love presenting dark stories on a silver platter. Prettied up with the most delicious icings and shiniest sprinkles. I like my stories and characters to look beautiful. Enjoy them while thinking you're just having whimsy adventures only to realize you're done for once you truly look. Like Silas. It's easy to make fun of him, forget the things he is capable of doing as you're too busy enjoying his silliness. He feels safe, a gentle giant who loves and takes care of you.

But he's still a man who has forced himself on you not only physically but also mentally. Trapped and limited you beyond belief. No electricity, no internet, no contact with anyone other than him. Only talking to him, only feeling him, only knowing him, only consuming him. A beautiful and sweet man no human mind can handle for more than a few weeks.

But Sel, from what I've seen, is a bit different. She doesn't shy away from showing the darkness and scariness of the stories she makes. Before you even know it you'll be facing concepts you didn't think could be possible.

And not only that, she hides so much under every word she uses. Often times the things she places in front of you are not even the scariest parts. The more you read and the more you decipher they get deeper.

I'm frankly a big fan of the things she writes. They often leave me flabbergasted (and mortified, she knows what I mean) but they are also so so fun. So scary yet beautifully poetic.

I know she doesn't like being under the spotlight that much. But ever since I met her and saw her stories I wanted more people to get the chance to see and appreciate them the way they deserved. I think they are truly special, and they make me want to do my best to illustrate them in the perfect way possible.

Honestly I'm not sure if I'm good enough at it, but if it helps the stories reach more people I'm happy with it.

I don't know if she'll read this post so that's why I'm being sappy like this but I genuinely hope you guys like her stories like I do. And I hope both you and I can see more and more of it.

[nqueso-emergency]

This is a long one but I'm pissed off...

I'm no one to tell people to have hope, you believe what you want to believe but here's an exception to that: it kinda pisses me off when I read asks based on Buddie journalists shitty biased interviews and saying they've lost hope.

I don't know if those are Buddies faking to be BuckTommys (it wouldn't be the first time) but why would you guys take into consideration what they say??? Have you not seen their behavior on line??? The hypocrisy??? when you call them out or come to them with facts they just block you or don't reply at all??? Why would you believe someone who said she was being attacked by bucktommys when in reality it was ppl from a completely different show just to shit on BT??? Have you not seen the posts about them here??? The tweets are there and even though they bock you, you can still see them.. Is queso wasting their time???

They are BUDDIES first and journalists after.. They need those clicks to keep the lights on.. they are not neutral, they are not professional and mainly, they are not to trust like AT ALL..

Let me ask you this, why were buddies soooo confident online saying that BT were going to break up since monday the week of 8x06??? Even making hit list to harass people??? It was weird bc as BT break up it was out of nowhere.. so they knew something we didn't... why is that?? I'll leave it to your interpretation.. Just keep in mind they get to watch the episode before anyone else.. So, would you take the word from someone like that???

And just as examples I'm gonna leave here some SS from the TVLine OS interview for you.. But do something for me.. Read the Questions Without reading the answers and it'll help you realize what their were trying to do. (Even though OS shit on himself with some of his answers) but still..

What country would unite with the let buck fuck thing if even the GA liked Buck being with Tommy???? There's only one answer and you know what it is..

Mind you I think this is the least Biased... If you read the other interviews were these "journalists" themselves not the actor, are actually implying Tommy won't come back using frases like "most likely won't", "seems like it's final" it's even worse.. Being the interviews with Lou the worst ones... Why would they want an interview with Lou if they're a buddie and don't like him??? Looks like mission accomplished for them..

Now again you believe what you want to believe but don't come here using Buddie journalists as a reliable source....

And a final recommendation DON'T PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT BUDDIE "JOURNALISTS" SAY... but don't stop calling their shit out though bc they are awful people...

I rest my case..

Say that! 📢

[rmbunnie]

It's most likely just Starlin trying to get to Jason dying faster because he did not like Robin, but the whole "Jason's spiraling because of his grief for his parents" thing they were trying to spin was honestly really weird, not supported by the rest of the run INCLUDING the parts Starlin wrote, and kinda reads like an unreliable narrator situation because all of the information supporting it is given through Bruce's narration, him speculating on Jason's thoughts and actions.

The plot thread of Jason's grief for his family affecting his behavior shows up like TWO issues after Jason first becomes Robin back when Collins was writing, and gets sorted out after one conversation where Jason gets to confront Bruce about hiding his father's death from him for 6 months. After that Jason is behaving normally until they encounter three predators in a row, and each time Bruce insists that they can't do anything because of The Rules and assorted red tape/diplomatic immunity plotlines. (The sister of a woman who got dismembered actually tricked the violent-misogynist killer who dismembered her sister (and then got his serial killings dismissed through a technicality) into attacking her, and ends up killing him in self-defense, and then Jason's like "seems fair" and Bruce is like "no. it's NOT. we need to follow laws and not take justice into our own hands. which like wtf Bruce! you are a vigilante who just used a custom tank to fight an evil televangelist! who then got ripped to shreds by his followers while you watched!)

Bruce kinda just decides with Alfred that it must be grief upsetting him and not the dozens of brutally killed women and their predatory killers who the law inexplicably protected, (all written by Starlin, so retconning it for DitF like five issues later would be an odd move) but the only text claiming that's why Jason was upset is from Bruce's POV and through Alfred's dialogue. Jason himself doesn't display any signs of grief in the story itself, or even act or speak in a way that alludes to Catherine and Willis beyond looking at a picture of them and smiling fondly while he sorts through their possessions. He kinda just happens upon the box with his mother's info by chance, and is like ok i guess we're doing mom searches now. He was only going for a walk through his old neighborhood, not actively searching out info on his family. When Jason is deciding whether or not to run off without telling Bruce, he considers telling him and then goes "no, all he cares about is being Batman, he wouldn't even understand why I want to see my mom." Which, I mean, "Bruce wouldn't get it" is a REALLY odd angle if the sole motivator for spiraling, then getting benched* and running away to search out his bio-mom, was because he was mourning his dead parents, a thing he notably has in common with Bruce. That statement only really makes sense if he's thinking about a different thing that was greatly upsetting to him that Bruce brushed past, like maybe a combo of hiding the murder of his dad for half a year and allowing several cases involving sexual violence to freely develop body counts in the name of the law.

Lots of people have written about how Jason's stay in the manor might have seemed dependent on being Robin with how he was kinda just scooped up, but (if we're including Detective Comics in our characterization,) Bruce had offered to let him resign from Robin and just live with him (a little late, but still. It's worth noting Batman proper shows Jason afraid and uncomfortable at the thought of Dick taking Robin back, which lends more merit to the housing-dependent-on-Robin-misunderstanding interpretation, but canon is pick and choose anyways.) The lack of trust involved in his choice to search out his mom kinda reads like it was bred by more than that alone, and Bruce's prioritization of the law over the protection of the people it ignores is notably upsetting to him in the prior issues. tbh I really do believe the outcomes of those cases could have informed Jason's stance that Bruce's method of justice is ineffective right alongside his own murder and his experiences in Lost Days.

It would make sense for Bruce to not consider his own actions while he's thinking through things that would upset Jason, because from his point of view the things there that were bothering Jason were the criminals alone, not the way that the methods with which they were approaching their crimes continually led to the perpetrators evading actual justice. During the point in DitF where he's thinking through motivations for Jason's running away because something isn't adding up for HIM, the idea doesn't so much as cross his mind. It would also add another layer to Jason's sulkiness upon Bruce's arrival if he held the belief that Bruce is ignoring the consequences his brand of justice has on victims (and the way it's affecting him to helplessly watch it play out), starts to hope that Bruce actually can understand his thought processes/relate to him when he shows up, only to be told to his face that Bruce is prioritizing his style of justice over Jason again. With the way everything that led Jason to his bio-mom was comically circumstantial and the context of the previous issues, it's kind of the ONLY way Death in the Family makes sense to me. Tldr: I feel like the grief claimed as reasoning for Jason's actions leading up to his death is mainly speculation from Bruce and Alfred and the more textually-supported reason for his erratic behavior and lack of trust in Bruce is the lack of intervention in several sensitive cases that led them to worsen unobstructed and eventually permitted them to escalate into casualties in 2 out of 3 cases.

*Also, side note, but the idea that Jason got benched for the Filipe situation, while perfectly reasonable, is not quite spot on. The Filipe situation escalated into the fight in the junkyard where his dad is crushed by a car and Bruce is all "everything you do has consequences" which is kinda big words for a guy whose lack of action indirectly lead to a girls death earlier in the storyline, but true. Jason actally gets benched because he jumps directly into gunfire while fighting the third set of predators and Bruce starts to worry he's getting a little suicidal with it. He baits a guy into shooting at him on purpose again trying to protect mom prospect number 1 later on in DitF, so Bruce might have had a point with that one.

[lilaccatholic]

I also think, at least drawing from my own teenage years and childhood, that there's a certain amount of "but it can't be the terrible thing we've been warned about, can it?" There's a huge difference between knowing that something terrible could happen and accepting it happened to someone you love, even for adults. I was 23 when I found out my best friend's ex-boyfriend was abusive, and I still had that panicked moment of "No. Please, not you." when I found out, but I had the advantage of being an adult with adult resources and the ability to do something, even if it was just listening to her on the phone when she was dealing with the mess of disentangling her life from his. When I was fifteen, sixteen, seeing signs of bad things happening to friends of mine? I had no power to do anything other than telling a teacher and praying that my friend wouldn't stop talking to me in case the adults didn't do anything. In the back of my mind, there was always the fear that I wouldn't be believed, or that a situation would be looked into and it would turn out that things were actually perfectly innocent. So, take that regular teenage fear, that desperation for the bad thing to not be true, and add in everything we know about how agents have no trust of authority, have a very understandable desire to be seen as more mature than they are, but with the knowledge that they have just as few, if not in some cases fewer avenues for help as other children, and it's very easy to see why Lucy and Lockwood wouldn't have seen what was going on until it smacked them in the face.

I posted this before and i’ll do it again.

George and Pamela were pedophilic and that was glossed over so fast😭.

My boy was getting groomed and everyone was like “ohhh George, u two are so cute”.

[maika-aika]

Hellooo! Your writing is sooo fun to read that I've been rereading it multiple times now🤭🤭🤭 sooo I kinda wanted to request another post about reader fighting back against the bullies with crowe this time if that's okay, and take your time!

(ps, it's also okay if you ignore this, i hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night! ❤️❤️❤️)

GUARDIAN ANGEL

KYAAA THANK U SM GIGGLING TWIRLING MY HAIR KICKING MY FEET ♡!! I LOVE CROWE SO MUCH BROO!!! Did u know my first fic ever posted here was supposed to be with Crowe but I changed it to Sol instead cz I thought ppl wouldn't like it sobsob

☆: "Someone is creeping you out while hanging out with Crowe, surely you should teach them a lesson, no?"

★: Crowe x gn!reader

☆: Contains: Baddie reader yurr !! Downbad Crowe, creepy dudes, post friend group plot, mutual pining I need to breed him

The bell's ring echoed throughout the entire school, indicating lunch time as students hurriedly pack their things to rush towards their friends and eat at the cafeteria. You were calmer than your unruly classmates, screaming and yelling in excitement as they rushed to their groups and cliques. "Its like they've never experienced the lunch bell go off"

You mused to yourself, happy enough to know that you at least have one friend in your school. Yet he still hasn't shown his pretty little face in your classroom yet, usually he'd pick you up and walk you to the cafeteria, but it seems that isn't the case this time.

"Yo, (Name), I usually see your boyfie pick you up at this time, wonder why he isn't here" your seatmate puts his arm on your head, practically using you as an armrest, making you groan and push him away with red dusting your cheeks "Can it! He's not my...boyfriend.."

Your heart rate picked up as you muttered those words as an evident flush on your cheeks got redder, gaining you a knowing stare from your seatmate as a laugh escaped his throat, smacking your back playfully "Yeah. Sure. And I'm the president of the United States," he marked sarcastically, waving his arms dramatically.

You scoffed, standing up from your seat, and walked your way out of the classroom door, ignoring the cheerful yells and encouragements from your seatmate. "Get yo mans!" He echoed out to you, which promptly made you walk faster in embarrassment.

It didn't take you too long to notice him standing by a vending machine. Taking your chance, you tiptoed your way behind him and gipped his shoulders. "There you are!" You yelled, making him flinch in surprise, snapping his head towards you. His shocked expression made you laugh at his dismay.

He merely sighed and shook his head with a small smile on his face, "You're such a tease, (Name)" his voice was smooth as honey, eyes glinting in nothing but adoration. Oh how you looked divine when you laughed.

"Says you! It's not nice to keep me waiting for that long, you know! Hurt my feelings a bit.." you playfully sulked as a joke, but Crowe seemingly took it too seriously, brows furrowing as an apologetic expression dressed his face "I didn't mean to, there were just some things I had to do before going to you"

Seeing his obviously saddened face made you panic a bit "No—! It was a joke, don't worry! I didn't mind looking for you anyway. " You were quick to reassure, trying to ease his worries a bit, but he simply shook his head. "Still, I shouldn't have made you wait so long. You deserve only the best, (Name)"

His voice is so genuine, and how he stared at you sent shivers down your spine. He's always like this, always putting your needs before himself, always putting you on his first priority before anything else. Curse him and his prince-like behavior!

But before you could ask what he was up to, you felt a random hand hit your ass, laughter, and whistles could be heard as you snapped your head towards the source in anger.

A group of sloppy looking men with dirty uniforms and rolled up sleeves showing their tattoos chortled and snorted at you, as if their making fun of you getting angry with their disgusting actions. "Aww, what's wrong, doll? Wasn't hard enough? I can be more rough if you like"

The main, blonde guy leaned in closer to your face as you winced at the strong smell of his breath. Your expression made them laugh harder, giving each other high fives and fists bumps as if making you uncomfortable is an achievement.

"What do you think you're doing...?"

A hand protectively held your shoulder, making you look up. Crowe's eyes were nothing compared to what you're used to. Eyes that were once filled with love and softness were now filled with pure, raw anger. Yet, he was still gentle with you, carefully maneuvering you to stay behind him, protecting you like a shield.

The boys took one glance at him and scanned him head to toe, judging his every move. The blonde whistled and clicked his tongue, staggering towards the taller male "Watch it, golden boy. You may be class rep or whatever bullshit title they gave you. But these parts are my territory, so I make the goddamn fuckin' rules here." He practically spat out, his lackies cheering him on with vulgar words and descriptions.

If Crowe is pissed, then you're seething.

You hated being insulted, yes, but you hated it even more when people belittle those you care about. So without thinking, you stepped forward and faced the blonde head on, catching Crowe off guard.

"My territory! blah blah, you pissed on this school and claimed it yours like a dog then?"

A sound of surprise was heard from the blonde, even gaining a gasp from their lackies. Clearly, they weren't expecting you to fight back. Crowe got worried, fearing that you might be in danger now. "(Name)—"

"You think you're so fucking funny?"

Without knowing, the blonde grabbed you by the collar and slammed you against the vending machine. Hard glass hitting the back of your head made you groan. Yet you still managed to stare at your attacker dead in the eyes, not running away from a fight you intend to win.

He mocked you with a laugh "Doll, you look so cute when you're angry, but one more goddamn word from your mouth and I'm bashing your fucking skull inside this machine" he threatened, his spit sliding onto your face.

"Yeah? 'Cause I'm about to get real fuckin' adorable"

You raised your foot and kicked him between his legs. A pained groan could be heard as he instinctively dropped you back onto your feet, groveling in pain. But before he could fight back, you grabbed his hair and smashed his head so hard onto the vending machine it broke through the glass. Knocking him out.

You dusted yourself off before turning to the two, shivering lackies, huddling together in an attempt to look smaller and hide from your view. "Who's next?" A malicious smile etched your features, making them scream and run away with their tails between their legs, yelling out apologies and pleads for mercy until they disappeared.

You stood still for a moment, taking in a deep breath to ground yourself. Turning your head to look at the blonde's unconscious body and winced "Yikes...didn't mean to hit him that hard" you played with his arm, lifting and dropping it like a toy.

"Yoo, check it out, Crowe! He's now a—"

"Why did you do that?!" You glanced at him in confusion, eyes locking onto wide and worried ones. "Ehh? They were talking smack about you! I had to do something!" You responded with crossed arms and a pout on your lips. "The least you can do is say thank yo—"

Suddenly, you felt arms wrap around your body in a tight hug. You stood there, not fulling processing what's happening. "You're so reckless..." His voice was a whisper, not daring to speak any louder, not daring to let you go. You didn't know that your actions affected him this much. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his gently.

His breathing eventually calmed down a bit as he let you go. Once again, there's this softness in his eyes, staring right at you as if you held all the stars in the world and placed it all in your eyes, tracing constellations in your gaze. You felt his hand cup your cheek with the same gentle motion, treating you like divinity.

"You don't know how worried I was about you, (Name). Really..." he leaned his forehead onto yours, his other arm wrapping onto your waist, pulling you two closer than before until your bodies are touching so close you could hear each other's heartbeat. And his was racing.

You scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck. Both of you are in a daze of adrenaline to even process what the two of you are doing, but what mattered right now is each other's company and comfort. "My fault, didn't know I was such a diva" you made light of the situation, earning a sigh from him as he pinched your cheek.

"More like a trouble maker than anything," he retorted, which earned an offended gasp from you and slapped his chest in mock play. "How dare you insult your guardian angel! Oh woe is me. I am so pitiful!" You dramatically leaned back with the back of your hand on your forehead, he laughed at your playfulness and pulled you in closer to spin you around like a waltz dance and dramatically dropped you, his arm supporting your body as his eyes are solely focused on you.

He gently held your other hand and kissed your knuckles with a smile. "Thank you, angel.." he whispered so softly that it was barely audible. Your cheeks flushed as your teasing words died on your throat, rendered absolutely speechless.

You quickly stood up straight and pushed him away in embarrassment, looking away from him as you tried to calm down your beating heart "...That's cheating" you muttered and kicked the cement, glaring holes onto the ground in an attempt to make it seem your unphased by his shameless flirt.

A laugh was heard beside you. Feeling his hand take in yours again as he wordlessly walked you away from the ugly sight you left at the vending machine. Though he is class representative, and it is his job to keep everyone in check, he finds himself making exceptions for you. No matter how brutal you might get. If anyone from his class would have caught him right now, they'd blame him for favoritism.

But what's more shocking is that he doesn't seem to have any need to deny it.

Silently picking up the paper bag he left nearby, leaving you still unaware of what he's holding, Lazer focused on calming your heart. And oh, does he find that absolutely adorable.

Perhaps he will just slip the snacks and drinks he bought for you from the vending machine under your table once you need it.

Chat imma be fr here, lowkey hated this LMAO yrgghh felt like I could've done better but my class starts at 6 and it's already 5:37 HELPPP

[procyonloser]

"You fucking kidding me right now?!" Adam yelled, dropping his bags, though his guitar case stayed firmly in hand.

Across the front of his van, someone had painted the word, CHEATER, and that was just the first offense he'd noticed. They'd keyed up the paint job, which was a super fucking awesome duochrome that shifted from gold to orange to purple - fucking ruined now. On the side were a litany of worse insults, saying he had a small dick, that he was a man whore, that he was a shitty musician.

He knew who'd done it, and he wasn't even fucking dating the bitch. She was just a groupie he'd fucked a few times on the road; yeah, he'd fucked a few other girls, so what?

"I'm so going to take you to court, you stupid cunt." Adam hissed to himself, getting in the driver's side. But, the van wouldn't start at all. It wouldn't even try to turn over. It just did nothing. She must have fucked with the engine too.

Which left Adam standing on the sidewalk, fuming, as he waited for an Uber to show up. He didn't even fucking live here! He was just on tour! People all over wanted to hear him play, or they would after they heard him at least!

An unremarkable car pulled up along side him, and the passenger window rolled down, and a blond man in the driver's seat leaned over to smile up at him. "Need some h-"

"Fucking finally!" Adam complained, getting a startled look in return. "I've been waiting for you for like twenty goddamn minutes." Adam waved his Uber app at the man, and told him the code.

"Please, get in. I'm Lucky, by the way." The man said with a wide smile. "I have water in the back, if you'd like."

Adam was still fuming, but he tossed his stuff in the back seat, grabbing out a water bottle and jumping into the passenger seat. Yeah, he knew ubers didn't like that, but he didn't do back seats. He was always in front.

He chugged the water, and crushed the bottle, before tossing it out the window.

"Charming," Lucky said, in not so subtle distaste.

"Fuck you, you don't know the night I've had. Some cunt ruined my van, my gig went shitty, cus the bar was like, no you're supposed to pay me. Like shit I'm doing that. Fucking pussies. Chick run, obviously. Can't do anything right." Adam huffed, reaching down to adjust the seat, pushing himself back and getting a bit more leg room. "So suck a dick and just take me to my hotel, shorty."

"Sure," Lucky said, barely even blinking at the insults.

Adam closed his eyes, and began to feel increasingly drowsy. Well, he'd had a long night. "Wake me up when we get there," he mumbled, before sleep took him.

Adam woke up to a not so gentle slap across the face. He startled upwards, eyes wide, finding himself unable to move. He was restrained, cuffs around his hands and legs, and he was entirely nude.

"W...what the fuck? Where am I?" Adam whispered, horror setting in. He'd woken up with some hard 4s before, after getting drunk, but nothing like this.

"Morning," a voice called, and Adam looked up to find the cabby sitting beside him, smiling brightly.

"...Lucky?" Adam asked in confusion.

"Oh, my name is actually Sam, but the news calls me Lucifer." He reached down, caressing Adam's cheek with heavy lidded eyes, not caring that Adam tried to jerk back and away from him.

"I'm a serial killer, sweetheart. And from what I can see, no one particularly likes you, your girlfriend dumped you, your car was ruined, your band is a joke... It would make sense that you'd just...go missing? Wouldn't it?"

Adam's blood went cold, horror began to set in, even though he wanted to scream and shout and curse the man. He tried pulling on his cuffs, but nothing budged. His attention was drawn back to Lucifer as he pulled out a very sharp looking ritualistic knife.

"W- wait, wait! I can...I can help you!" Adam got out, and Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I can help you! I don't like people either! So, I'm not going to say anything about this, you know, I could even tell you about...I don't know, people alone in bars and shit!" Adam tried to persuade him, but he knew it sounded more like begging. "I can...I can be useful, I promise."

Lucifer hummed to himself, appraising him. "You'll be a good boy for me?"

Adam swallowed hard, nodding his head. For some stupid fucking reason, he started to get slightly hard from that.

"Maybe I'll think about it," Lucifer said, but Adam's relief didn't last. "But I can't have you getting away in the meantime. I need to clip your wings."

[kat-tastrophe]

The concept of just waking up fat seems hot to me. Like imagine going to be an in my case. I'd wake up with my oversized pjs fitting tight. My once roomy pants squeezing around my waistband. I wonder how long it takes for me to notice once I wake up. I'd wake up and try to roll over. Then realize raising my arm feels like lifting. A brick. Then trying to roll over only to realize my flat concave stomach is rolled out like someone stuck a basketball under my shirt. I would first touch it and make sure I wasn't still asleep. When I go to move my legs and realized my stick thin pencil legs are replaced by two soft meaty thighs abt twice their size and I'd feel as they slid against each other as I try to sit up. I'd sit up only for my belly to be sitting on my lap a feeling I wouldn't know how to deal with. Struggling a mkment to figure out how i get up with my belly in the way. My tits which typically are small and flat are pronounced and stretch my shirt but not more than the butterball of a belly. I'd stand up and nearly fall over as I have a shift in weight forward. Looking down and barely seeing my feet or not even seeing them at all as their covered by my belly and tits. And when standing finaly becomes ok seeing how walking and feeling my body jiggle and bounce with each step. My thighs rubbing and my once thin frame buried under a layer of fat. Id get to the mirror to see I'd round out all over and that I'd have to wear my biggest pants and hope I could close them and put on my oversized sweaters and hope that they cover all around. My once thin sharp jaw rounded out and potentially having a double chin. My ass muscular ads holding weight making it hard to get any pants I once to fit other than my oversized baggy pair fitting tight.

Idk lmk what you think. Im not a writer cause I only have ideas and don't know how to write them down effectively.

[peppermintquartz]

tw: self-harm reference

--

Lucy notices.

Scratches, he says when she asks, nothing to worry about. But Tommy Kinard gets them after every off day. Arms, usually. He says he accidentally got cut doing some DIY at home.

Not that it's any of her business, but one night after Tommy leaves, turning down invitations for after-shift drinks, Lucy thinks she needs to step in. He looks a little strange, enough that her spider sense tingles.

"Hey."

"Hey Buckley, Lucy here. Is, uh, is Tommy going over to your place?"

Buck laughs, a short bark that sounds bitter. "Why would he? There's nothing he wants here."

"Buck, what are you saying?"

"We broke up forty-three days ago," Buck says, and hangs up.

That's over a month, and Tommy hasn't breathed a word. Lucy sighs and rolls her eyes, then tells Gus she's not going out for drinks either.

---

When she gets to Tommy's place, she wonders how to broach the subject. She dawdles long enough in her car that Tommy opens the front door and jerks his head, inviting her inside.

She goes, sucking on her tongue, wishing it didn't have to be her. But if not her, then someone else, someone who might report to the higher-ups.

"Hey. What's with the stalking?" Tommy asks. He presses the time for the microwave. There's a new bandaid near the crook of his left elbow.

She sticks her hands in her jeans pockets. "You're hurting yourself."

Tommy goes very still. She counts; it takes about three to four breaths before he shakes his head. "I'm alright. It's just a minor scratch."

"Every day for the past forty-three days?" She steps closer. "I called Buck."

"So you know."

"You're hurting yourself. Did he - was he the one to call it off?" Judging by the way Buckley spoke, she's reasonably sure it wasn't him, which means it has to be this self-martyring idiot who pulled the plug. But she has to make sure, in case she kicks the wrong ass.

Tommy shakes his head. "I... I didn't want him to feel obligated to stick with his first man. And he would've. He deserves better than me."

Lucy rolls her eyes and kicks him lightly on the seat of his pants. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, I know. I should never have let him talk me into trying-"

"No, I meant the break up!" Lucy blows out a long breath. "Fuck. you know what, it's been a long shift, my words are not making sense in my head, but I am gonna stay here tonight and you - you will explain yourself in the morning, and if I'm not 100% satisfied that the reasons are valid or that the obstacles you've imagined cannot be overcome, I am dragging you to Buckley's and you will fucking grovel for forgiveness."

Then she goes to him and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He tenses, and then relaxes into her embrace.

"I'm your friend, you bloody moron," she whispers. "You shoulda told me. I would've given you enough tequila to drown an elephant, and I wouldn't even take a photo of you crying like a baby." She presses her cheek against his. "No more careless scratches, okay? I like my friends in one piece."

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 10 - The END! (almost)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Epilogue

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // CW: Hurt/Comfort, MWIII spoilers

---

Watching Johnny launch himself at Makarov is like staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. The blue of Johnny's eyes through the helmet visor burn with rage, and though the emotion isn't meant for Ghost, he can't help the way his body instinctively tries to dodge the attack.

It doesn't matter. He's too slow. The impact sends them all sprawling across the rooftop, and Johnny scrambles on top of Makarov to smack something out of his hand.

It's not until the small, bright green thing skitters across the roof and cracks against the brick wall of the roof access, bright green seeping out to pool around it, that it finally clicks.

Johnny tackled Makarov to save Ghost.

Makarov screams in frustration... and then grunts in pain as Johnny's fist connects with his face. At the same moment, a bullet punches Ghost's plating into his ribs, and he finally takes his eyes off Johnny long enough to aim his weapon.

The remaining soldier seems to have some back up now — probably people waiting in the wings in case Johnny proved too much for the small team. Johnny is wailing on Makarov, punch after punch accompanied by a growling scream gone tinny from the helmet speakers, but Ghost's heart jumps into his throat as he realizes Johnny is also still in the firing line. Ghost's return fire is keeping their adversaries cautious, and they won't dare take too many shots because of Makarov being in the way. 

But there are already at least two dents in Johnny's helmet. Who knows how many more bullets have hit his armor, leaving vicious bruises at a minimum and possibly causing internal bleeding from the impacts. As high tech as the armor is, Johnny can't survive a full-out onslaught of gunfire.

Another bullet hits Ghost's plating, this time right over his newly-healed bullet would. Ghost growls, dodges behind cover, and sets his sights on the remaining soldiers.

"Johnny! Get to cover!"

The rage dims, and a bit of lucidity seeps back into Johnny's eyes. He doesn't respond, but he rolls both himself and Makarov until they're behind the brick wall of the stairwell entry. Makarov is struggling in earnest now, and Ghost's heart rate ratchets up a few more desperate thumps per minute. He leans out of cover just as one of Makarov's team does and shoots the soldier right between the eyes. He ducks back under the spray of shattering brick where his face used to be. He switches to the broad channel to hear Laswell using her stern voice in the comms.

"Ghost. Soap. This is Watcher-1. Report in now. That's an order. Over."

"Watcher-1, this is Ghost. Makarov is on the roof with me and Johnny. We're under fire. Requestin' immediate backup."

Another soldier pops out from behind an AC unit as Ghost leans around the corner, and Ghost fires. The man drops.

Two down... Three? Or maybe four to go.

"You're on the roof with Soap?" Laswell asks, something incredulous and yet resigned in her tone.

"Affirmative." Ghost glances over, his heart slowing a bit when he sees Johnny has regained his position over Makarov, though he's only getting in a punch every now and then as Makarov fights back. Ghost can't make out much of Makarov's features from all the blood, though. "Better get here fast if you want Makarov alive. Johnny's beatin' his face in."

"And you're not stopping him?" 

"Under fire, remember? Can't get to him."

Which is technically true. If Ghost ran across the open area between them, he'd likely end up with at least one extra hole in his body. The reality, though, is that he wouldn't even if he could. Not unless Makarov somehow got the upper hand and Johnny needed back up.

"Ghost, this is Price. We're on our way in the helo. Sitrep."

Sure enough, the sound of helo blades cuts through the gunfire. Ghost reloads and dips out of cover — only to dodge back at another spray of brick. 

"At least four hostiles are spread across the rooftop. Ductwork and mechanical units givin' 'em lots of cover."

"Roger," Price says, "Safest angle for us to come at you?"

"South. Johnny and I are fully covered from that direction and that's where most of Makarov's people are."

Ghost glances over at Johnny—

—who has a pistol pressed against Makarov's forehead. A pistol that looks a lot like the one that Ghost finds is missing from his thigh holster. Must've snagged it when he knocked them all down.

Ghost switches over to their private channel. "Sitrep, Sergeant."

"Got him," Johnny pants through the comms, his voice too panicked for Ghost's liking. "I got him right where we want him. He moves a millimeter, though, I'm gonna blow his head off."

"Sounds good, Johnny. Take some deep breaths for me, eh? Breathe in..."

The guns around them have gone quiet in direct proportion to the beat of the helo blades, but Ghost focuses on the short, panicky breaths in his ear. Johnny swallows and his breathing changes to one of a measured inhale interrupted by small gasps.

"Now breathe out. Slowly."

The sound changes again to something like a hiss of air through teeth. It's not perfect, but at least Johnny is with it enough to listen to Ghost. He guides him through a couple more breaths even as the helo pops up on the south side to rain gunfire down on the remaining hostiles. An RPG whistles through the air. The helo dodges and aims at the location the grenade came from, destroying the ducts and sending metal and brick flying. 

The broken whisper in Ghost's ear brings all his focus back to Johnny in an instant.

"I can't... Ghost... I can't let him live."

"He talkin' to you?"

"Aye. It's... he..." A harsh growl erupts from Johnny's throat and ebbs into a half whine. Ghost is ready to launch himself across the divide, bullets be damned, when Johnny continues, "I cannae live my life knowing he's out there somewhere. Tha' he might get out again. Tha' you or I or any of the people I care about might be in danger because he's still walking the Earth."

A villa in a rainforest rises up in Ghost's mind, blood spraying from the bullet placed between the eyes of the man who had terrorized him for months followed by fire that consumed everything in its wake. He meets Johnny's eyes across the yawning gap of bullet-riddled roof between them.

"Looks like he's movin' to me," Ghost says in a matter-of-fact tone. "Better put him down."

Johnny's eyes flare as he stares at Ghost before turning his gaze to Makarov. There's a moment of silence except for the helo blades cutting through the air, though Ghost can see Makarov's blood-stained lips moving—

A single gunshot shatters the relative silence.

Makarov's body jerks and then stills as blood begins to pool around his head. Johnny scrambles to his feet, still hovering over the body with his gun pointed at Makarov.

Three more shots ring out, but Makarov doesn't move for those. Ghost hums.

"Good work, Sergeant. Another terrorist down. Switch to the main channel, and we'll wrap this up, alright?"

He watches just long enough to see Johnny's hand move toward his comms and switches over himself in time to hear Price swearing up a storm.

"—amn it, Ghost. If you don't give me a sitrep in two seconds, I'm gonna come down there and kill you myself."

"Ghost 'ere. We're solid." Ghost looks over to meet Johnny's gaze. "Target KIA."

There's a silence on the other end until Laswell's voice comes online.

"Repeat that, Bravo 7-1."

Ghost doesn't look away from Johnny as he says, "Target down. Tried to escape. Was the only way to keep him from gettin' away again."

Laswell doesn't respond. She's probably pissed off, but so is Ghost. She's the one who asked Johnny to put himself in danger by being here at all.

Though it's true that Makarov probably wouldn't have shown himself if Johnny hadn't come.

"Ghost, Soap, you're clear," Price says. "Vaqueros are on the way up to bag and tag. We'll RV by the warehouse."

Ghost is moving before Price finishes, dashing across the space to Johnny, who is now staring down at the mangled, bloody face of his tormentor who he very nearly beat to death. Slowly, Ghost reaches out and presses a hand to Johnny's chest.

"You with me, Johnny?"

"Always."

It sounds like an automatic reply, but when Johnny lifts his head, eyes overflowing with tears, there's no distance or haze clouding his gaze. Ghost reaches up to mute his comms. Johnny does the same before reaching under his chin to unlatch his helmet and pull it off. It falls from his hands, the clatter loud without the helo or gunfire to mute the noise. 

"It's over," Johnny gasps, his voice little more than an incredulous whisper. "He's gone."

"You did good, Johnny."

"Why're ye here? Ye werenae supposed to be on overwatch."

Ghost shrugs. "The Vaquero assigned to overwatch was eager to be part of the action on the ground. I was doin' him a favor." A broken laugh bursts from Johnny's heaving chest, and Ghost slides his gloved hand up to cup Johnny's tear-stained cheek. "Told you I wouldn't let owt happen to you. Not now. Not ever again."

Johnny's face goes soft, and Ghost can't resist any longer. He lifts his mask, leans in, and kisses Johnny the way he's been aching to since that day in the hospital... and all those days before when he thought Johnny was gone from his world.

The distant sound of the stairwell door opening pulls them apart, but only by a few inches. They confirm that their company is, in fact, the Vaqueros before turning back to each other. Johnny is grinning at him, his expression bordering on giddy.

"So all I've gotta do to get ye to kiss me is kill a terrorist in cold blood? Good to know."

"No terrorist murder necessary. Just keep bein' 'ere, Johnny. Just stay with me. 'S'all I need."

"Oh, but..."

Johnny trails off, his brows furrowing so deeply Ghost is compelled to smooth a thumb over the puckered skin. "But what?"

"Ye just never seemed to want" — Johnny looks around them and lowers his voice — "more, ye ken?"

"You mean when I was recoverin' from gettin' shot and you from years of torture?"

Johnny blinks, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally stutters out a soft, "Well, when ye put it tha' way, I suppose ye've got a point... but ye should know..."

Johnny grunts when they have to move away from Makarov's body so the Vaqueros can bag it. His gaze is fixed on Makarov's bloody face until the bag zips up over it.

When he doesn't continue his train of thought, Ghost puts a hand on his waist and squeezes to get his attention. Johnny flinches and hisses through his teeth.

"Shit, you broken?"

"Nae. Just bruised to hell and back. I stopped counting after ten hits to the armor."

Ghost blows out a long breath, his spiking heart rate calming with the confirmation Johnny isn't bleeding out, though he still needs medical attention stat. 

"Christ. You're a head case, Johnny."

"Aye, but I'm yer head case," he says, flashing that sudden, broad grin that Ghost hasn't seen in more than three years. "And yer mine," he adds as he curls discreet fingers through Ghost's thigh strap.

Ghost doesn't argue as he directs Johnny to the stairs. They'll have time later to discuss the finer points of their mutual insanity.

They have time. And Ghost will never take a single second of it for granted again.

---

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Epilogue

[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

Agatha All Along - Paralleled Characters: Breaking down the pairs from the broom scene.

So, in Agatha All Along, the characters who end up closely paralleling each other and being crucial for each other's arcs, are the characters who exchanged brooms during the hexenbesen ritual.

So, let's look into them one by one:

1) Agatha Harkness & Rio Vidal (“Out of Death, Life.” || “She is my scar.”)

First of all, let's get the obvious out of the way. Agatha and Rio, the ultimate push and pull. Tied together eternally by the strings of fate in a way that is almost codependent. Agatha—the maiden—romanticised death. Death is erotic, artistic, beautiful to the maiden. Death is comforting. Death cradles her. Death rescues her from her mother's cruelty. Death loves her. Agatha—the mother—views death as any mortal would. Death is terrifying, vile, evil. It chases her as she ages. It threatens to take he son, her heart. Death is ugly. Death is uncomfortable. At best, death is a means to an end. A necessary evil, for the sake of survival. For Agatha–the crone—death is a part of life. Death is transformation. Death is the end of a cycle. Death requires acceptance. Death is the natural order of all things. Death is everything at once and it is not to blame—but maybe she still is.

And to Death, Agatha her scar. She's a representation of everything she can't have: she can't have love, or a family... Because the one time she dared to try, her son was a stillborn—out of death, life. The one time she loved, so deeply that it planted a pain deep within her chest, a heart of obsidian—she was met with how her own nature is terrifying to mortals. She was met with the idea that she's some cruel thing. She was hated just as strongly as she was loved. And Death can't understand why she's unwanted. Death can't understand what is wrong with her. Death keeps balance, she keeps order. But for her scar, she bended the rules and gave her time. Death grants time. But it's never enough.

Rio needed to be accepted. Agatha was always going to be in denial. How could they balance the grief of losing a child, when Agatha wouldn't even acceot it being gone? How could they be anything but doomed, when their love created life so brief and fleeting? How could they ever be over each other, when even inside Wanda's Hex, Agatha's feelings for Rio were ever-present and she would always see her there?

When the words of Agatha's mother—you were born evil—were confirmed by the mere fact she could only take, and take, and take. And the only one she could give anything to, was Death? To keep her close, first, and then to keep her away, too busy to take her son? Because Agatha couldn't heal, or protect, or divine—she could only drain. And so Death was her satellite.

2) Alice Wu Gulliver & Billy Kaplan / Maximoff (“A lot happened to me at 13, too.” || “She was protecting you, but you don't deserve it.”)

The youngest ones, sharing the same aesthetics, whose lives were both cut short (in billy's case, cut in half) just as they were getting started. Haunted by scarlet and orange, even as their finger-tips are blue. A lot changed for each of them at thirteen—and all of it had to do with their mothers.

Each of then carries their own sort of curse. Alice's is generational—she's on the road to lift it. She's on the road to save herself. (Even if, at the end, she saves someone else at her own expense—which is her real curse, if you ask me.)

Billy has a sigil to lift, but even when it's lifted, he's not sure who he is. Is he William Kaplan, or is he Billy Maximoff?

Alice goes her whole entire life searching to find herself—but she never can. She's a shadow. Her mother's shadow–as is Billy. Each of them try desperately to make sense of the ashes left behind by their mothers. Each of them try to piece things together to understand what's wrong with them.

And each of them holds bitterness towards their mother. Alice claims that Lorna wasn't well. She feels that everything her mother taught her was a lie. She feels like her mother chose strangers—her fans, her coven, over her. Billy says that Wands isn't his mother at all, because he had a mom already. He doesn't remember her loving him. He only remembers her 'choosing a town full of strangers over her own flesh and wires.'

And as it happens, Billy and Alice both have no idea of the sacrifice and pain their mothers went through, all for their sake. The lengths each of them went to just to keep them alive, to protect them.

And Alice finds out. And her anger is replaced by sadness—sadness for her mom. But also catharsis—because what is grief, if not love persevering? Billy has yet to reach that point.

But when they understand each other so well, when they've bonded so strongly, from the very first trial—when they're the only ones who volunteer to dig Sharon a grave, who are sensitive to loss... Is it such a surprise that Alice's death is such a turning point for him? That his trust in Agatha wavers? That his power moves uncontrollably? It is not, because Alice is much like himself.

3) Lilia & Jen (“I'm not going before you.” || “You are the path ahead, Jennifer.”)

Jen and Lilia are juxtapositioned from their very first interaction. They immediately butt heads. And their relationship's development is crucial to each of their own developments.

From the moment each of them are introduced, they are parallels. First of all, they are frauds. They use some sort of lie that somewhat resembles their magical skillset, (Madame Calderu's Psychic Readings / Kale Kare) but actually requires no magic at all. They could be doing something important, but they've both found themselves unable or unwilling to. They're both hermits who have completely distanced themselves from the Witchcraft community, claiming that they don't need it, that they don't care for it. Their powers are both repressed—Lilia's because she choise to repress them, Jen's because they were forcibly bound. They both pretend they are content—toughened through the passage of time and the cruelty of history tiwards women like them—but they're both met by dead ends. Lilia's eviction notice, no different than Jen's upcoming lawsuits.

And they continue to butt heads throughout, judging each other. From 'chemical peel' to 'pitchy' & 'flat,' to Jen pushing Lilia out of the way because her own survival is her only priority. To then singing together, sharing scar stories, exchanging brooms, 'Jennifer, look what you did.' To opening up. To Jen no longer wishing to go before her, no longer wishing to put herself first. Because she sees her, now, as something more than a crazy old broad. She cares to see her—like no-one has in centuries.

And for Lilia, whose timeline, whose path isn't linear, Jen has always been there. Her family. Her sister in the craft. Whose presence she lacked, like a memory she couldn't grasp. Nostalgia she couldn't quite place anywhere. Nostalgia for something you've never even had. Because in the future, she always had her. And the flow of time is an illusion.

Lilia's road, her path, has always been windy. But Jen is her path ahead. The Path Ahead is in Lilia's reading. Jen is Lilia's path ahead. Not only because she has a brilliant and bright future of her own ahead of her in the mcu, now with her powers unbound. Because Lilia senses all the trapped light and bound power that Jen carries—(“The High Priestess: Immense spiritual power, unable or unwilling to use it--”) but also because Jen, the survivor, is the one who will carry on Lilia's memory. All those centuries, Lilia had been alone—there was no 'path ahead.' Everything was a jumbled mess. Her “path” was non-linear and twisty.

And Jen, after centuries of solitude, was her light in the dark, guiding her through the dark tunnels, as her mind wandered through her timeline searching for answers. Jen was the only person in centuries who bothered to see her as something more, to acknowledge her strength, and to help her fill in the gaps as best as she could. And so Lilia sees so much hope in Jennifer—who won't stop becoming better and better. Because Jen finally decided to put someone else first, to prioritise someone other than himself. To re-discover inside of her the nurturing, protective nature she had buried and bound alongside her magic. Because even when bound, she is a healing presence. She is still the midwife, the 11th generation root-worker. The woman who was doing something important—and she didn't need magic to be that woman.

Because for Jen, the Queen of Cups is her path behind. Wound suffered, lessons learned. “I couldn't save Lilia, I didn't even try to save Alice, I'll be damned if I let you two idiots die.” Lilia reminded her how to be a good person. And for Lilia, she was a light in the dark. Even as her path winds out of time—Lilia lives on in Jen. The one and only survivor of the Witch's Road—(since Billy is more of a Dungeon Master.)

And of course, a million other things can be said about each individual dynamic in this coven—because all of them were fated to meet, and all of them were written for each other. There is not a single unexplored dynamic in this group, not one. I could make a million other posts about each of them. Agatha & Billy -> motherhood. Agatha & Jen -> oppression and begrudging trust. Agatha & Alice/Lilia -> protection from a mother's love. The list goes on and on and on.

[writeforfandoms]

Island 8

Find the series masterlist

The group of you are finally ready to leave the base and start on, hopefully, the final journey on the Island.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood, mention of hunting, anxiety, general feelings of low self-worth, typical stuff for Survivor for this series.

Word count: 2.7k

It took a further three days to have everything as prepped as you wanted. You made batches and batches of hard biscuits, using up all the flour. Berries would still be available along a lot of the route, so you didn't worry too much about that. Jerky was fortunately something you'd been making for a long time, so you had quite a bit of it to go around. Fresh meat would also be available along the route. 

Water was more of a concern, but you were still holding out hope for a drop with more canteens.

Price gave in to your logic, and finished taming the iguanodon, which was good. Ghost surprised the hell out of you by coming back with a stego. Even Soap managed to tame a parasaur. 

Gaz still wanted a hyaenadon, so you and he took the ghillie and cuts of meat and started taming. You worked on one - Gaz somehow managed to work on two. It did take two days, as you'd predicted, but it worked. 

Leaving the lot of you with plenty of tames to carry things and help guard the group. Hopefully you'd be able to tame a few more things along the way, since you weren't worried much about being able to feed them all until you got to the volcano. 

Really, it was a pretty good start. 

Soap and Gaz did a good portion of the packing, with Price and Ghost handling the weapons and ammunition. Another thing you wouldn't mind finding more of in a drop. 

You kept track of everything, made sure everyone had some armor and kept essentials on them. Just in case. 

You didn't even object when Gaz swapped out one of your armor pieces for something heavier. 

The morning you were set to leave was… hard. Not for any reasons you'd expected. Packing went quickly and seamlessly, all the tames behaving themselves. Even Ripper wasn't trying to maul anyone. 

No, it was difficult for you to leave. You didn't want to leave. You didn't want to leave the safety of your base. You weren't ready to venture into the relative unknown.

Even with the four men by your side. 

“Ready?” Gaz finally prompted you, even as one of the tames snorted and shuffled behind you. 

You breathed in deep one last time, hands steady as you straightened your shirt. “Ready.” You turned your back on the base and took your place at the front, leading the whole group away. 

You didn't look back. 

If your guesses were right, it would take about four days to reach the volcano, since the lot of you weren't pushing, and were moving more cautiously. Maybe three, if things went well and nobody got in trouble and there weren't any distractions. 

You had enough food to last a week, just in case. 

The first day was easy. Nothing bothered you. All was quiet. Feeding everyone was easy - the herbivores grazed as you all walked, and you let Ripper and the hyaenadons after a few dodos. Gaz helped you build up the campfire for the night, helping you cook as the others took care of settling everything else. 

“Ye never did tell us how to tame a raptor,” Soap said, eyeing Ripper where the raptor had settled behind you for the night. 

“I didn't?” You blinked, surprised. You could have sworn you'd told them already. “Well, it's not easy. The hyaenadons are probably the easiest, honestly.” You swallowed a few berries, thinking over how you wanted to phrase it. 

“And the rest?” Price had a keen eye on you, even as he swapped a pot of boiling water for a fresh pot. 

“Well, first step is to not get killed,” you answered dryly, smirking at his dissatisfied huff. “You have to trap the predators. Usually that means with something like a bear trap. Feed them while they're stuck and can't go anywhere. Tom was pretty good at building traps that were less harmful, things you could lead a raptor into without risking your arm.” 

“Traps, eh?” Price eyed you, clearly considering. “Did he teach you?” 

“Yes,” you said slowly, hesitantly. “But we won't have time to build any traps, not on our route. The only chance we'd have of taming one is if we found one already trapped or injured.” 

“But it could be done,” Price pressed. 

“Sure,” you agreed with a shrug. “Still takes time, so we'd have to pause somewhere nearby, but it could be done, hypothetically. I don't know if we'll need more carnivores though, honestly. I wouldn't say no to more trikes or stegos.” 

Price sat back, his curiosity apparently assuaged for the moment. 

“How did Tom teach ye?” Soap asked, still looking curious. 

“Showed me what he had done with Ripper,” you said, shrugging again. “We had plenty of time. Not like we had anywhere else to be.” You paused, swallowing back bitterness. “At least, that's what we figured at the time.” 

Silence settled over the camp for a few long moments, the others giving you time to calm again. You didn't look at them, instead choosing to look at the fire, letting the movement of the flames distract you from your feelings. 

You owed a lot to Tom, and you'd never have a chance to repay him. 

But maybe if you got these men out… maybe your debt would be closer to settled. 

“What else did he teach you?” Gaz was the one to break the silence. “About tames.”

You smiled a little. “Which ones to avoid, like dodos,” you answered easily. “Which ones were easier to tame. Where to find the different creatures.” 

“You seen a lot of this place, then?” Soap piped up, watching keenly.

“A fair bit. Not the snowy lands, not the volcano. But I did make the mistake of going through the swamp once.” You shuddered in remembered terror and revulsion. “Huge bugs. Terrifying crocodile-things, except bigger. Lots of fighting and hunting going on in the swamp, all the time.” 

“Didn't ye have to go there to get the leech?” Soap looked faintly concerned. 

You shrugged. “I stayed to the outside, only went in far enough to find a leech and run. It was fine.” You reached behind you to pat Ripper. The raptor chirruped at you, clearly pleased with the attention. 

“Good thing that's not on the way,” Gaz managed to joke, his attention still focused on you. 

“Very good thing,” you agreed. “Although once we get into the mountains, there will be plenty of bad shit to keep us busy.” 

“We're prepared for that,” Price pointed out, seemingly unconcerned. 

You decided to keep your thoughts to yourself. You'd already expressed concern about the danger, more than once, so further harping on it wouldn't get you anywhere. Especially since these four could now survive on their own. They didn't actually need you anymore. 

It was what you'd worked towards with them, for them, but it was still a slightly terrifying thought. That they would survive without you. 

You shook yourself, getting rid of the worst of the what ifs and maybes, and stood to do a quick round of checks. Now that dark had fallen, it would be best to sleep in shifts, something the four of them had divided up quite nicely. 

You weren’t going to object. Not tonight. Tomorrow, though, you’d insist on pulling your weight. 

Soap, Price, and Ghost all settled down, apparently content to go to sleep. Soap even went so far as to roll away from the fire, his hair even more of a mess than usual. 

Gaz stayed where he was, seated, shoulders relaxed but gaze alert. The firelight cast odd shadows around him, flickering and dancing. Far from scaring you, however, you just thought him beautiful like this. 

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured to you, voice lowered in deference to his teammates. 

“I will,” you agreed. “In a few minutes.” You breathed in deep, the cold air mixed with the smell of the fire both soothing and exhilarating. “You see the island very differently.”

“Do I?” He sounded curious, glancing at you as you settled a little closer to him. You told yourself it was so you could keep your voices down, let the others sleep.

You didn't acknowledge that you just wanted to be close to him. 

Well. You tried not to acknowledge that, anyway. 

“You still see the wonder of it,” you murmured, letting your own gaze drift past the fire to the dark woods beyond. “The beauty of this place. I can't see it anymore. I just see danger.” 

Gaz was quiet for a few moments before he leaned over enough to nudge his shoulder up against yours. “You've been alone a long time,” he murmured. “Hypervigilance is not surprising.” 

You sighed softly, leaning just a little into the comfort he offered. “I'm tired,” you admitted, so quiet you were sure he couldn't hear you. 

But he surprised you, turning enough to wrap one solid arm around your shoulders. “I'm here,” he whispered, head tipped towards your ear, foreheads nearly touching. “I'll help. Any way I can.” 

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the hot sting of tears, refusing to let them escape. “You already are.” 

His arm tightened around you, comforting and grounding, letting you breathe more easily. Neither of you said another word. None were needed. The shared warmth and comfort was more than enough for you. 

And when you woke in the morning next to Gaz, rather than where you'd originally set your things down, no one said anything. Soap looked like he wanted to, but he didn't. (The sharp-looking elbow from Gaz might've helped with that.) 

It didn't take long until the lot of you were walking again. You had the map, mostly ignoring Price peering over your shoulder at it. You didn't need the map yet, but you wanted to be sure the lot of you weren't getting lost. 

“Drops up ahead,” Ghost called from the back of the group. 

You paused and shaded your eyes, looking up until you spotted them. One green drop and one white. Your heart thumped in excitement. White drops were rare, and usually had really good stuff. 

“Looks like they'll be falling up ahead,” Price said, having also spotted them. “Nearly dead ahead.” 

“The white one is a bit off course,” you mused. “But it should be fine. We're not that close to the horse clan here, I think we're outside their normal range.” 

“You think?” Price raised one eyebrow at you.

You rolled your eyes. “I was less focused on keeping up with their territories, and more focused on surviving,” you pointed out, eyes narrowing at him. 

Price huffed but held his hands up in apparent surrender. Satisfied, you looked back at the drops. The green would be directly on the way, easy to stop and grab. 

An ankylosaurus wandered out of the trees in front of the group, snorting once at the lot of you before continuing to look for berries. 

“Slight change of plans,” you murmured, excited now. “You lot go to the green drop and wait for it there. I'll tame this anky and meet up with you.” 

“You shouldn't stay out here on your own,” Gaz interrupted, having clearly been eavesdropping. 

You shrugged. “So someone can volunteer to stay with me,” you said, unbothered. “Won't take three of you long to get everything out of the green drop anyway.” 

“I'll stay,” Gaz immediately offered. 

Price sighed and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something too quiet for you to understand. He sounded faintly exasperated. “Fine,” he agreed, lowering his hand again. “Soap, Ghost, on me.” He strode ahead, and you whistled the tames to follow him. 

From behind, it was rather fun to see the small herd of creatures following the beleaguered-looking captain. A sentiment Soap seemed to share with you, snickering as he passed. 

“More tames?” Gaz asked after the group had pulled ahead. 

“Ankys are pretty good defense,” you pointed out. “Not sure how much they can carry, but that tail is a good deterrent for a lot of predators.” 

“Not arguing,” he was quick to say, holding out a bag of berries. “Just surprised we're taking the time to do this now, is all.” 

You shrugged, pulling out a dark red berry and rolling it between your fingertips. “Way I see it, we have plenty of time,” you pointed out. “And more tames can't hurt.” 

Gaz nodded, accepting your logic. “So, approach slowly and feed it until it likes you?” He guessed with a little grin. 

You couldn't help your huff of amusement. “Basically,” you agreed. “Keep an eye out and shout if you see trouble.” You left him there, walking over closer to the anky. 

It wasn't a long process to feed, fortunately. The anky was hungry, and eager to take berries even from your hand. By the time the other group had the drop packed away, you had the anky following you, docile as any tame. 

“Anything good in that drop?” You asked as you and Gaz walked up to the rest of the group. 

“A canteen,” Soap answered, holding it up to show you. “And more ammo.” 

“Not bad,” you agreed with a little grin. “I hope the white drop has more good stuff.” 

The white drop seemed to be a bit off the path you'd drawn for the journey, edging closer to the edge of the Pink Ladies’ territory. Hopefully it wouldn't be a problem. Hopefully it would be worth it. 

This time, Gaz stayed next to you as you walked. You didn't mind his company, even when you heard a bit of snickering and hushed murmurs behind you. Soap, at a guess. And maybe Price. 

The white drop was a bit larger than the average drop, and it only took moments to pry the top open. 

The first thing you grabbed happened to be a bundle of incendiary arrows. You whistled lowly, impressed. 

“Hardly ever see these,” you mused, passing them to Soap. “Those could come in handy.” 

The jar of oil went right after the arrows, and your grin felt a little sharp. A little feral, possibly. 

Those arrows would be an excellent way to defend your group, if needed. 

Two more canteens, bigger and heavy-duty, met with your approval. More ammo, for all the weapons. A precious jar of cure-all. Two bags of jerky. And a bola, which you’d never had a chance to use before. 

“That was a good drop,” you said, grinning, very pleased. “Very good drop.” 

“Good to have supplies,” Price agreed, finishing stowing away the last of the extra ammo. 

“Now that this is done, we can keep going.” You didn't bother with taking the crate this time. No need, not if you lot actually got off the island. And building took too long on the road to be helpful. 

Ghost hissed through his teeth. “Got eyes on,” he said suddenly. 

The shift in the men around you was palpable, shoulders drawing up, expressions changing. Gaz shifted so he was half in front of you, physically blocking you. 

You'd be impressed if you weren't trying to peer over his shoulder to see what was ahead. 

Three Painted Ladies stood ahead, basically in the way. Your heart sank. You hadn't dealt much with them, not in a while, but the red dye on their faces and clothes made it clear. The two marked tames behind them made you a little nervous - an anky and a dire bear. You hadn't seen a dire bear in ages. 

You'd forgotten how big they got. 

You breathed in slowly, eyeing the distance between your groups. The Painted Ladies weren't approaching, weren't trying to get closer. Clearly waiting. 

You'd have to go to them. 

“You lot stay here,” you said, quiet but firm. “They won't deal with you.” 

“But–!” Soap started to protest, one hand already on a rifle. 

“No.” You shook your head a little. “They won't talk to you. They'll talk to me.” 

Price looked back at you, calculating. Then he nodded once, firm and steady. “Gaz, keep back, but follow her.” 

You didn't object that time. Having Gaz at your back made you feel better, even if you knew he couldn't help. So you breathed in deep, until the ache of it filled your lungs. 

Then you started forward, projecting confidence you didn't feel.