#but everything seems to be pointing in that direction

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hi there I was wondering if you would be comfortable writing a poly!maurauders x reader where the reader struggles with an eating disorder. Like she is from a pure blood family and it was a bad habit she picked up. I totally understand if you wouldn’t want to write something like that however!

hi lovely! thank you for requesting, i hope this is okay

cw: general discussion of ed struggles and thoughts (including restriction, binging, and purging, not detailed), swearing, sexual joke implying rough play (towards the end)

1k words

You weren’t sure how long you had been in the kitchen for, but it started to feel like an excessive amount of time. You stared into the cupboards, scanning the shelves for something to eat. Both everything and nothing was appetizing. You would then give up, sighing in disdain before repeating the same process with the fridge, then the freezer, then back to the cupboards, then the freezer again to make sure-

The door opened, a bag dropped, shoes squeaked against the hardwood floors. 

“Hey, angel!” James barrelled into the kitchen. You turned towards him so he could embrace you. 

“Hey, Jamie. You’re back early.” He looked at you questioningly, cutting his eyes to the oven clock. 

Shit! It had been that long? 

“Oh wow!” You laughed uncomfortably. “I must’ve lost track of time.” You shrugged as Sirius slid into the kitchen, patting your ass as he walked past. You turned your now-warm face in his direction. He opened the cupboard, immediately finding a snack and eating with ease. It made you jealous to see the boys eat with so much levity. They never denied their cravings in favor of something smaller, or even nothing at all. They never stared a hole into every nutrition label, wondering how days of food would have to be restricted to compensate, or how many steps would have to be taken to burn every bite off, or how easy it would come back up. They never wallowed in hunger for hours, or ate to the point of pain. Their moral value had never been questioned based off of the food they chose to eat (or not eat). You must’ve been staring in wonder for a long time, because Sirius had quirked a dark brow at you. 

“You checking me out, babydoll?” He teased. You shook your flaming face, looking away from him and mumbling an apology. The quick motion had you seeing spots though, and you brought a hand to your head in hopes of steadying yourself. 

“Shit, sweetheart.” James grabbed your face, looking you over for any visible injuries. 

“Sorry, I just got a bit lightheaded.” This called the two boys to alert fast. 

“Yeah, baby?” Sirius asked carefully. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you over while James quickly went to get you some water. He felt your face, which was now cold, he scrunched his brows in concern. He moved his hands to your hips, hoping that would keep you steady. You took the water from James, noticing the pinkish hue.

“It’s electrolytes. It will taste good I promise.” He reassured. The taste wasn’t what you were worried about. “When did you last eat, angel?” That was the dreaded question. You struggled through the dense fog of memory. 

“Umm, me and Remus ate together earlier. I’m not sure when, though.” You did remember exactly what you had eaten, though. With a little too much clarity for comfort. Like magic, Remus appeared, holding three empty mugs of tea. 

“What are you gossiping about me for?” His voice would seem monotone to most, but you could hear the humor in it. 

“Remus, love,” James asked gently. “When did you and Y/N eat?” 

“We had a late breakfast after you two left today.” He responded suspiciously. You winced. It hadn’t felt like that long ago. The time it took for Remus to understand the situation was very little. 

“Did you forget to eat today, honey?” James’ anxiety was evident. You could tell he was hoping it was forgetfulness, as opposed to the other possibility. 

“Yeah. I tried to find something a while ago but nothing looked good.” They knew you got like this. Too much choice, nothing made the voice inside your head happy. 

“That’s okay.” James’ hand was rubbing a soothing path up and down your arm. “I haven’t had dinner yet, we can find something together.” He pressed his lips to your forehead before turning to the other two in the room. “Have you two eaten yet?” 

“Not since lunch, no.” Remus slipped back out of the room. 

“I mean, I could always eat.” Sirius said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Remus returned, carrying upwards of ten bars of chocolate. 

“Have some of this, dovey.” Remus picked out your favorite, starting to break it into chunks for you. 

“Rem, it’s okay.” You panicked. Your brain was screaming, both in want for food and in rejection. “I don’t need it.” 

“Sure you do.” He said, nonchalant. You picked up a bar of chocolate, flipping the package over. You didn’t have a chance to look before James took it from you. 

“Baby!” He laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you thought we would let you do that.” He was right. Since the boys picked up on your issues, they always tried to hide these things from you. Bottles would be handed with the label facing away from you, they would read items off of the menu at restaurants, hoping you wouldn’t look yourself, and the scale in the bathroom had strangely disappeared. Something that apparently Sirius ‘didn’t even notice, dolly, that’s funny.’

“Here, open up.” Sirius grabbed a square of chocolate from Remus’ stash. “Say, ahh.” He teased. 

“Siri,” You laughed. “I don’t need you to feed me.” 

“So? I want to. Stop being so selfish.” You let him place the chocolate in your mouth, rolling your eyes at him. He apparently took great offense to your attitude, deciding to worm his fingers into your waist in revenge. You tried desperately to bat his hands away. 

“Careful, pads.” James tried to scold, obvious humor and affection slipping into his tone. “You’ll make her choke.” Sirius grunted in disdain. 

“I guess you’re right.” Sirius kissed you, mouth still full of chocolate. You pulled away, dizzied to chug water.

“Thought that choking was my job.” Remus said casually. You nearly spit your water out.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #marauders era #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #poly marauders #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #marauders hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #marauders fluff #fluff #james x reader #remus x reader #sirius x reader #the maruaders #the marauders era #hp marauders #drabble #poly!marauders drabble #lily’s asks #anon request

[danveration]

Could you do a Cooper Howard x reader angst? Something with the reader getting injured or dying and/ or becoming a ghoul?

You and your stories are amazing btw❤️!!!

Thank you!

Parings: Cooper Howard x reader

Summary: You get shot and Cooper comes to your aid.

Word count: 1344

Warnings: Guns, blood, shooting, reader getting shot in the thigh, Cooper being a softy

A/N: sorry if you meant post-nuclear bomb. (if you wanted cooper howard like.. normal human & stuff) ALSO I JUST REALIZED THIS ISN'T VERY ANGSTY 😭😭 FFS. I hope you like it either way :))

It was a hectic situation. There were at least ten people pointing guns directly at you from all around. This was not how you expected your day to go. You didn’t even do anything remotely wrong. Just stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. Which was pretty common around here.

You were by yourself right now, which was another downfall. You didn’t have the capabilities yet to kill a bunch of people on your own. Maybe if you sweet talked them..? You doubt that would work. If only Cooper were here. He would have them all dead in a blink of an eye. Especially because they were threatening you. He seemed to have a soft spot for you for whatever reason. You felt the same way towards him. Even though people would look at you like you’re insane, you don’t care. You can see something in him that nobody else can. He always had a bit of a protective nature towards you the moment you two met. You thought he would’ve killed you, but he just laughed at how scared you looked and ensured that he doesn’t kill without a motive. And in his words “won’t dare harm a pretty thing like you.”

He is currently god knows where. You were tagging along with him but he went to go get more vials. He said he knows a spot where he can snag a couple. That was about two hours ago. It would be great if he just miraculously appeared right now.

“L-listen. I don’t want any trouble, okay? I’m just passing through.” You say, trying to sound brave but the whimper in your voice made itself known.

“Yeah, passing through OUR territory.” One of the men said, with a raspy tone.

“I didn’t know! I’ll go. Right now.” You say quickly, starting to move forward.

“Uh-uh!” One of them yelled.

You hear all their guns go off safely and you stop dead in your tracks. The panic and fear you feel makes your skin develop goosebumps.

“We can’t let you go, can we? What kind of example would we be settin’ if we did?” One of them spoke.

“Oh, just walk right into our territory, It’s all good!! It wouldn't be our territory if we did that, would it?” One of them say in a mocking tone.

“P-please. I just-“ You begin to say.

“Now what on hells creation is goin’ on here?” You hear no other than Cooper’s voice in the other direction.

You subconsciously release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

All the people snap their heads to the ghouls voice. Some of them look scared, but some of them look angry that their fun got spoiled.

“Well? Gonna keep gawking or is somebody going to tell me what the fucks goin’ on here?” He says.

“W-well we caught this one roaming on our territory.” One of the people spoke up.

“And?” Cooper questions them, as if daring them to say what they were going to do to you.

They’re all silent. Except for one. He must be new here or something because he speaks up in an angry tone, “and were gonna kill them.” He says, pointing the gun at you. He looks around at all his other gang members, and how they’re not pointing the gun at you anymore.

He raised a brow, “what’s the big idea? Why’s nobody else-“

BANG

Cooper shoots the man in the arm, not letting him finish his sentence.

Everything went slow from there. You see Cooper giving the man cold eyes, and then from your vision, you see the man look down at his arm, then you see him, with his other hand, grab his gun and quickly shoot you in your thigh before Cooper sends another bullet straight through his head, leaving him instantly falling to the ground.

You hiss out in pain and look down, seeing red liquid gush out and stain your pants.

Cooper whips his head towards you.

“Fuckin’-“ He mumbles as he rushes over, getting on his knees in front of you.

Everyone around immediately makes a quick exit, not wanting to suffer the same fate as the other guy.

Cooper would’ve killed them all for that, if it wasn’t for him not wanting to take his eyes or attention off of you. He feels scared, worried, mad, and mostly desperate. Desperate to stop the bleeding, desperate to go back in time and never leave you alone in the first place. He would laugh at himself for feeling these feelings any other time, just not now. Now he has to focus all his attention on you.

“Is it bad?” You mumble out to him, not wanting to fully look at it.

Cooper thankfully notices how it isn’t in a vital place. The bullet went right through, so he doesn’t have to worry about digging it out or it causing complications.

“Well you got shot, sweetheart. It’s bad but it isn’t deadly. You’ll be alright.” He says, trying to ease the worry off of you.

He’s got to get you to a safe spot so he can properly treat the wound. Luckily he has lots of experience with these kinds of situations.

He stands up and leans down, putting his arm behind your knees, lifting you up and carrying you bridal style.

Your eyes go wide and you gasp in shock, but don’t complain. You don’t think you can walk anyhow.

Your cheeks flush and you feel a swell in your heart from his actions. He walks in silence, his brain wracking at how he shouldn’t have left you alone, and how he swears to make sure this won’t happen again. You’re in his arms, hurting, but for some reason you swear it hurts a little less because he’s close to you.

“This won’t never happen again, I swear it. You better be more cautious around these parts though, darlin’. Especially with me not around. People don’t give no mercy.” He says to you.

A little while later, you’re sitting on a mattress in an abandoned building. Your pants are pulled down a bit on one side, so he has access to the wounded leg. Cooper carefully cleaning and wrapping up your wound with a concentrated face. You stare at him and how his eyes look, how his forehead is frowned down in focus, and how his hands are handling you carefully, as if they aren’t used on a daily basis for killing and violence.

“You’re lucky it’s in this spot. A little to the left or right, and you might’ve not been able to use this leg again. Would’ve had to get you those robot leg attachments.” He says, laughing at the end of his sentence.

“You mean the ones that practically rip your leg to shreds? No thanks.” You say, laughing.

You look at him softly as he’s smiling gently, while finishing up wrapping your leg.

“Now would you look at that? All better.” He says, gesturing to your skillfully wrapped leg.

“Thank you, Coop.” You say. “I’m really lucky you came in time.”

“Well, I’d argue I was a tad bit late, but of course, darlin’. I’m glad I got there before things could’ve gotten worse.” He says back to you, adjusting his hat on his head.

He cares about you. It realized that right when he heard that gun shot go in your direction. His heart sank to his stomach immediately, thinking the worse. He’s going to make sure to keep a tight leash on you from now on out. Not in a bad way, just in a way that he’s able to be there if anything happens.

“Thank you, Cooper.” You say softly out of nowhere, looking at him with a bit of blush on your cheeks.

He nods his head in your direction. “You’re quite welcome, sweetheart. Now why don’t you be a doll and rest up. I might’ve wrapped it all neat n’ all, but you’ll still need to let it heal. We can take a couple hours break here."

#my works #fallout #fallout x reader #ghoul #the ghoul #ghoul fallout #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fallout x reader #ghoul x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout ghoul x reader #ghoul fallout x reader #cooper howard fallout #cooper howard x you #fallout fan fiction

[xannytranny]

Challengers AU

Summary: You felt like you were on top of the world. Suddenly, it felt like your world flipped upside down. Torn between love for your sport and choosing the love of your life, you don't know what's up or down. AKA, a Challengers-esque AU but with basketball instead of tennis. 

Part 1

Pairings: You x OC; eventual You x Paige x Caitlin

Warnings: None (?), swearing, slightly toxic dynamics (?)

-------------------------------

Second Person POV

Life was great. Your team won last year's NCAA championship, and against all odds, you guys were headed into this year's Sweet Sixteen. 

Life was great. You're going into your senior year, your last year of playing with your favorite people. You've gotten close to all the girls on the team, and they've essentially become your sisters. You're favorite, above all, was your girlfriend, Mackenzie. 

Life was great, and it was about to get even better. You and Mackenzie were talking to several WBNA, and both of you were slated to be within the top five picks. You guys may end up across the country from each other, but you'd make it work because this was your dream.

Life was great. So why the hell did it feel like a lie every time you said it?

--------------------------------

First Person POV

I hop around lightly, bopping my head to the music blaring from my earbuds. I shake out my arms, pulling them across my chest to stretch. I sat on the locker room bench, dropping my head and closing my eyes to focus on breathing. I could feel a presence sitting next to me, but I ignored them until I finished my exercises. 

I open my eyes and pull out my earbuds, looking toward the new presence. When I see it's Mackenzie, I smile slightly, "Hey you."

"You alright?" She asks, nudging our knees together. 

I soften, nodding, "Just nervous, I guess." I shrug. 

Mackenzie scoffs, "Unlike me, this isn't your first Team US selection." Her tone sounds joking, but it still has that underlying bitterness I've come to associate with our conversations. I ignore it and shrug.

"Selection doesn't mean anything if you can't bring home a win," I tell her, frowning. 

"Would you relax? This is only for gold medals and participation trophies." She snaps at me. 

I roll my eyes, standing. "Can you just leave? I need to focus."

Mackenzie scoffs and turns to leave, mumbling under her breath. I ignore her, which seems to be a theme these days, and return to stretching. I stay like that until Coach comes to collect us. I don't acknowledge Mackenzie as we begin walking toward the tunnel, my mind only on the game that's about to happen. 

I jog out of the tunnel when I hear my name called. I wave to the crowds in the stands, then run down the line, slapping hands with my teammates. I join the line, greeting the rest of my teammates. Once the introductions are finished, I get into position for tip-off. 

Tying my hair back and getting low, I watch intently as the ref tosses the ball into the air. I grin as the ball is batted in my direction, catching it and taking off toward the basket. 

---------------------------------

 Third Person POV

Caitlin and Paige sat side by side, watching the game. When they heard you were selected for the team, they knew they had to get tickets. You were everything they wanted to be as a basketball player, not to mention you were fucking hot. 

"Dude fucking look at her go," Paige nudged Caitlin, pointing toward where you just made a tough layup. 

Caitlin nudged her back, "I see her," She mumbled, not taking her eyes off you. 

In fact, neither one of them had taken their eyes off you since you came out of the tunnel. You were magnetic, electric, and just plain fun to watch. The entire stadium seemed to roar for you, and you basked in the attention readily, sending winks and kisses into the crowd. 

Only one thought was going through their mind as they watched you: I have to have her.

-------------------------------

Alright, so this is the intro to the fic I posted about yesterday. Let me know what you guys are thinking.

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #caitlin clark smut #caitlin clark x reader #iowa wbb #uconn wbb

[walnuthillfarm]

Enhanced Horse Leg Slider

This is a replacement for EA's leg slider (however, you can still use EA's leg sliders!)

This is an all-in-one slider which includes 9 sliders total.

Leg Length (up and down, left view)

Upper Leg Width (left and right, left view)

Hindquarter Size (up and down, right view)

Stifle Size/Placement (left and right, right view)

Knee/Hock Size (up and down, quarter left view) Please see Notes.

Knee Height (up and down, front view)

Hock Height (left and right, front view)

Bum Placement (up and down, back view)

Bum Width (left and right, back view)

You can still use EA's leg distance slider and overall leg thickness slider using the quarter right view (please see Notes).

I've done very little testing outside of CAS with this, so please feel free to let me know of any issues you run into! Everything seems to work quite nicely with CAS poses, which is a good sign. The only little issue I've noticed with them is when the tail distance is extended, it can stick out a bit unnaturally. This might be fixable on my end in the future.

Should anyone else create a leg slider, this mod will NOT be compatible - you will have to decide between them.

Once I have finished more of my planned sliders, I will create a cheat sheet to help you easily remember which view and direction is what slider!

Enjoy!

Update: 06/05/2024 - fixed an issue with the hind hooves floating when shortening the leg length - please redownload!

Update: 07/05/2024 - fixed an issue with the hind legs rotating forward when using poses after extending the leg length - please redownload! This is not a perfect fix, but it is a major improvement - you can use the Hindquarter Size and Stifle Size/Placement sliders to smooth out some of the dips. There is a little bit of distortion with standing poses where the hind legs are further forward. I will continue to work on this slider to get it as close to perfect as possible.

Notes:

Remember to grab the legs and not the body for these sliders!

When extending or shortening the leg length, the tops of the legs distort and are a little out of place - I spent a very long time on getting this slider to this point, but I may revisit and see if I can improve it in the future. Riding gameplay may also be a little funky with this slider. However, poses will function much the same - a little knowledge of the T.O.O.L mod will help iron out any 'distortion' with those.

I am not 100% happy with the Hindquarter Size slider, and so it may receive an update.

It can be difficult to access the quarter left and right views - you must keep slightly rotating your horse until you find this angle. This can be annoying, but it's the only way to fully maximise the potential of sliders!

Any distortion you may experience with equipment is likely not fixable.

The GIFs help to demonstrate the angle you need to use these sliders, just like any EA ones.

Download - Patreon

#sims 4 horses #ts4 #ts4 horse ranch #s4cc #ts4cc #ts4 horse cc #sims 4 cc #sims 4 #the sims 4 horse ranch #ts4 horses #sims 4 horse ranch #ts4 equestrian #ts4 simblr #equestrian #equine #horse #the sims 4 #simblr #ts4 slider #the sims 4 slider

[rebelliousstories]

Rock A Bye Baby

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Infirtility, Violence, Strong Language

Word Count: 1,937

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: Two hundred years seems like a long time, but there is somethings that never change; no matter how much time had passed.

“Janey, we gotta get to school! Come on, little lady.” A woman yelled from downstairs in the kitchen. She plated some fruit on the remainder of the plates before moving them to the dining table. Someone came up behind her and placed their hands on her hips.

“This looks good, sweetheart. And the food isn’t half bad either.” Cooper chuckled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She giggled and let herself relax into his arms for just a bit.

“Such a flatterer, Coop. Now go get that daughter of yours and bring her in for breakfast. She has a test today.” Sending her lover off, she made her way to the table and finished setting it up just in time for her two favorite people in the world to come down the stairs. Right before she got in her chair, she was tackled by a little bundle of energy.

“Oof, you are getting strong, baby. Come on and eat your breakfast, Janey. Then we can go to school.” She nudged the young girl in the direction of the plate she set aside for her. Watching Janey tuck into her meal, the woman smiled as she did the same. Her husband was sitting next to her and also ate his breakfast with a grin. Once everyone was done, she quickly ran around to tidy up before they grabbed their things.

“Come on, Janey. Let’s get going so daddy can drop us off at school. Okay?” And with that, Cooper was more than happy to be their chauffeur for the morning to take his daughter to learn, and his wife to work. The drive there was a relatively short affair, full of loud singing from the passenger and back seat as the radio was cranked loud. Parking in a spot, Cooper leaned over and kissed his wife goodbye as she took her step-daughter in for her school day.

That was a little over two hundred years ago, and everything changed.

Now, there was no more days at school. No more drives in the countryside or taking Janey to her mother’s house because of the visitation. Now it was navigating a nuclear wasteland for two hundred years.

They had been on the move for a couple days now. Very little was causing them to stop, and that was how they liked it. The couple functioned better on the move. Never allowing themselves to get comfortable in one place for long. But the town they were on their way to was known for big bounties. And they truly needed a bounty to replenish their caps after buying a bunch of RadAway.

“You go inside. I’m gonna stay out here for a moment.” She said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder briefly before passing him in favor of seeing what stall were available.

Cooper just nodded and left to collect the job he did not care to much what she was going to while he was inside. She could take care of herself. When he exited the shop, he spotted her at a stall with different types of wears. He distinctly remembered her talking about how she needed a new undershirt and possibly some new boots. It all passed quickly, and there they went off again.

The couple walked all around the area, utilizing Cooper’s tracking skills to the fullest of the extent. If they got this done quickly, that meant more caps. Leaning over to look at something in the dirt, a chain slipped out from her new undershirt. Cooper instantly recognized the ring looped through the metal and unconsciously placed a hand over the matching piece hovering over his chest. Even after all this time,he was glad one thing had remained the same. It was probably what made surviving the Wastelands easier.

“Hey baby! Come here.” The Ghoul walked over to his partner, and looked at where she was pointing. A blood trail. Kneeling, he stuck a finger in before tasting the dark red liquid, and spitting out the sand.

“He’s close. Let’s move.” His voice clipped as he took off to follow the trail. Ever the faithful wife, she followed close behind. By the time the sun had set, they still had more trail to track, but no light to do it by. So the couple found themselves stationed in the middle of a junkyard with a roaring fire. She rested her head on his chest and felt his arms around her shoulders, drawing her in closer.

“Wait, do you hear that?” She peaked her head up, and waited to see if she could hear it again. Cooper went to say something but she just shushed him. She heard it again; this time louder.

“What the hell is that?” She got up and followed the sound of the noise before her husband could stop her.

“Damnit woman. Slow down.” He grumbled, following after her with a scowl. She continued to follow the source of the noise, never wavering in her pursuit. It took a couple of turns, and a few trips from the uneven terrain, but she eventually found the source. A moving bundle of blankets were placed on top of a barrel.

“The hell you doin’ woman?” Cooper finally caught up to where his wife had stopped and paused over the same bundle that she was hovered over.

“Oh look at them, Coop.” She cooed, picking up the wiggling bundle. In her arms was a baby.

“I wonder what you are. You can’t be more than a few weeks old.” The baby was tucked securely against her body as she rearranged the blankets to see what the baby was clothed in.

“Oh you’re a baby girl. So cute with those chubby cheeks.” Her finger stroked over her face, and felt her heart swell when the babe wrapped her chunky little hand around it.

“Now, don’t you go gettin’ attached to that thing.” Cooper looked to his wife, and then down at the small human in her arms.

“Coop, she’s so small and defenseless. We can’t just leave her here.” She countered, already moving to leave the area where the child was abandoned.

“No. No, no, no. Now what we ain’t gonna do is keep the damn thing.” He followed her through the path all the while her arms were occupied.

“Oh relax, beau. I ain’t leaving her.” Making their way back to their little campsite, she sat down a little closer to the fire and held the babe close. She retired the blankets around and tried to find something to give her for her hunger.

“You just gonna get attached to the thing and it’s not gonna survive.” He commented, sitting back down in his seat but not draping his arm over her again. She grabbed her canteen and dribbled a little bit of water to her lips.

“Need to find some formula when we get into town tomorrow.” It was just a little side comment, one that she did not even realize that she had said.

“Already told you, we ain’t keepin’ it.” Cooper grumbled, placing his head over his eyes.

“Coop, she’s just a little girl.” She replied, but her husband did not. Whenever the little girl in her arms slept, she caught a brief moment of shut eye too. The sun came up, and woke her husband who looked well rested.

“Is that thing still here?” He asked, looking over at his wife with a sleeping baby in her arms.

“Yes she is,” a yawn broke up her words. Her eyes were a bit hazy and tired, but she was aware of enough to continue going. Packing up their things, she had to navigate everything with the child in her arms. Her husband was grumbling the entire way about being slowed down, and how he did not want the child to travel with them. But as they continued to follow the trail, the baby stayed quiet, and stayed asleep.

There was something interesting about having the baby with them. Even if he refused to admit it, Cooper found himself extra protective of the child in his wife’s arms. It took him back to when Janey was a baby; how small and defenseless she was. Always relying on her parents for everything. When they found the target, he held a hand up to stop them.

“Stay here.” He whispered, ducking around the corner. Howard saw the trail of blood, but no body was around. It was not until he heard his wife scream, and a thud followed by the sounds of bones breaking. He whipped around to find their target on the ground, and his wife with a baby still in her arms, kicking the man wherever she could. The target’s jaw was definitely broken, and she was trying to at least shatter the knees of the man who kept trying to get up. Unhooking the lasso, Cooper wrangled the large man onto his knees, before turning to the two females next to hm.

“Y’all alright now?” Cooper turned his attention to the babe in her arms, before checking on his wife.

“Yeah. We’re all good, Coop. Let’s go turn that bounty in.” She stated, determined to get back to the town. The man picked up their bounty and began to march them into the town the had received the hit from.

“You know, you checked on her first before checking on me. Never done that before.” She commented, shielding the child from the sun with her cloak. Cooper smirked as he kept his eye on the prisoner in front of them.

“Well, maybe she is alright. Ain’t like she ever done anything that deserves bein’ left in this god forsaken desert. You gotta take care o’ her, but you can keep ‘er.” He drawled, letting his eyes wander to the child before looking at the love in his wife’s eyes.

“Didn’t realize you ghouls could even have children. Who would want to be raised by a couple of mutants?” Their bounty snarled under his breath. Loud enough that she felt self-conscious, and loud enough that Cooper felt rage. In the blink of an eye, he had blown a hole through the man’s shoulder, who dropped to his knees screaming.

“Now,” Cooper caught up to him and tightened the rope around his body, “you ever talk about my wife like that again, I ain’t gonna miss and hit your shoulder.”

He let the man go, dragged him back up to his feet, and made him walk yet again. Cooper fell back where his wife was now suddenly silent.

“Don’t listen to the shit he says darlin’. You’re as fine a momma as I ever did see.” He reassured her with a quick pat to her back.

“What if he’s right, Coop? I mean, maybe two hundred years ago we were good parents. Well, you were. Me… I was never able to be a mom.” She looked to the baby in her arms with a mournful gaze.

“This is your chance to do it again. Just cause it ain’t your by blood don’t mean it ain’t yours.” Once more, Cooper kept his voice down while he reassured his wife. She looked towards him, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie, yet found nothing. Silently, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and continued onward. Cooper knew that their captive was far too focused on his own shoulder and pain to notice their interaction, but watching her with that baby, made him think about if they just had more time all those years ago; could they have found a way to have children?

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul

[lemotmo]

I don’t know what to think regarding buddie. Like one hand we’ve got Tim saying he stopped writing them because he didn’t want to queerbait but now is writing them again because he realized it was harmful to the show to not do so because they are so natural with each other, coupled with Ryan and Oliver having said they want buddie if it happens to be done naturally on one hand and then on the other hand you have Kenny talking about Lou and how great he is and what positive energy he adds to the cast and set and how he can’t wait to see the Buck and Tommy relationship continue on and keep growing.

It’s like what direction are we supposed to be preparing ourselves for them to be going. One second it seems like buddie and then the next it’s right back to feeling like the delusional shipper people had made buddie fans feel like for years now.

Hello Nonny! How are you today? Hope you're having a splendid day.

First order of the day: You are not delusional! We are not delusional! Say it with me! We aren't! It has been confirmed by Oliver and Tim. Buddie was in the works at a certain point in time, but Fox stepped in and prevented it. So no, no delusional people here. We're valid in our convictions.

As for your ask. Well, I don't work for the show, so I don't have any insider information. But I do have common sense, so let's break everything down in smaller parts.

Tim not writing for Buddie anymore out of fear of queerbaiting is something from earlier seasons when Fox was in charge. It's obvious he has changed his mind about it with ABC in charge, seeing as how every single episode has some great and meaningful Buddie scenes. Not just that, there was also a great Buddie and Christopher scene, once again cementing the Buckley-Diaz family as a unit. It's true what he says, they have this natural unforced chemistry.

I didn't know that Kenny said those things about Lou, but I get it. For Kenny Lou is a great co-worker. He has worked with him before in previous seasons and he obviously likes the guy, which... you know, valid. That being said though, Kenny doesn't know where the showrunners are taking all the storylines. Tommy is involved in Buck's storyline and so far only Buck's storyline. (Well, and Eddie's as well I suppose, since Eddie is almost always there when bucktommy are together, which... choices!) Sure, Tommy was at the wedding, but that was only a very brief scene. Also, whether we like it or not, Buck is currently involved with Tommy. So of course Kenny is going to talk about them. What is he going to say? 'Oh hey guys, LOL don't get too attached to Tommy, he won't stick around LOL!' He might have some idea about the oncoming Buddie train, but he can't just talk about that.

Let's take in account all the things we have so far: Buckley-Diaz family in full force, Oliver and Ryan can't shut up about Buddie, Oliver hardly ever mentions bucktommy and when he does it's always in the same way -> Tommy as a guide, gay Yoda to help Buck out. That doesn't sound very romantic to me. Next, Tim likes writing for Buddie (confirmed), magazines are all over Buddie and bucktommy is hardly ever mentioned. The last episode they juxtaposed Tommy and Eddie and showed Eddie consistently by Buck's side, willing to step into his world. Tommy didn't. Lou himself revealed that he isn't allowed to use 'Buck' to address Buck, but he has to use Evan. Evan is a name that Buck heavily associates with his parents and his upbringing. I'm sure there is more, but I can't think of it right now.

The difference in chemistry. I myself don't see it at all, but a lot of people seem to like the bucktommy chemistry in their kisses. But outside of those kisses there is a lot of wooden interactions that don't ring true. I'm not sure if it's intentional or not, but if you place those interactions next to Buck and Eddie's scenes the difference in chemistry is palpable. Buddie oozes natural chemistry. Something bucktommy lack. Again, I really think this might be part of the narrative, to show the eventual incompatibility of both characters.

The list just goes on and on. So, I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to bury the battle axe quite yet. To be honest, I'll probably never bury it. As long as Eddie and Buck are on my TV-screen, I'll ship them, because they are literally made for each other. 6 years of history, friendship, family, hope and love. That is not something to waste and the show knows it all too well.

So yeah Nonny, I said it before and I'll say it again:

I'm securely riding the Buddie train, destination endgame. I won't be satisfied with anything less.

#nonnies galore #buddie #not tagging other ships for obvious reasons #these are only my observations #ship and let ship is still my motto

[varpusvaras]

Fox's position as the scapegoat in fandom is very interesting and something I honestly think the writers kind of made him to be.

The part of the fandom (which is...really large) that doesn't like him always blames him for Order 66, in saying that "if he hadn't killed Fives, then Order 66 wouldn't have happened". Interestingly, they never blame Anakin, who had even more direct power to stop it. Fox had no idea that anything was going on, and did what he had been taught to do from the moment he was created: Followed orders. He didn't shoot Fives because he necessarily wanted to; meaning there were no personal feelings attached to what happened. Anakin, on the other hand, went and voluntarily murdered a lot of people for only personal feelings. But somehow that is not Anakin's fault.

(I've posted about it before, but the same people who blame Fox are always happy to boast about Anakin murdering him. Always happy to bring out Anakin's trauma as a slave, and then be happy about him murdering another slave, someone directly under his power, who had never known anything else than being a slave in his entire life, and who had been indoctrinated from birth to believe that being slave was all that he was, and that he should be proud of it)

Some fics from people who do like Fox also put him in the position of the scapegoat, where they have all the other clones blaming him for everything that had happened, and ostracise him. In some fics I've seen, they continue this even after the war has ended, even in scenarios where Palpatine didn't win, and this feels like the clones, who have been made to believe in the system, cannot make themselves blame said system. No, it's easier to blame one of their own instead, no matter how little power Fox ever had in his entire life.

The writer's also do this, by having Fox mess something up (in the writer's eyes at the very least) almost every single time he is on screen. I think the only time he wasn't positioned to be in the wrong in some capacity was on his first appearance in the movie, where he did a front flip down some stairs and shot at the bad guy of the movie. Almost every single other time he is doing something wrong or messing something up, causing something negative to happen, be it the bombing on Coruscant (not actually his fault, but the fault of the people who wanted to do it and prevent the peace talks from happening; still, Fox is put in the middle of it), or what happened with Ahsoka (from Fox's point of view, there was a dangerous person on the run, who had just killed multiple people in a violent way, and was continuing their rampage, killing his brothers as well). Objectively speaking, Fox is completely in the right with everything he does here, but the writer's still seem to position him to being wrong, because he is against Ahsoka, and Ahsoka is the character the viewer is supposed to be rooting for (no matter how much worse she actively makes her own situation during the arc).

No one ever remembers all the good qualities he had: he was hard-working, capable, brave, and cared for his brothers. No, instead, the fandom is endlessly debating over giving him, a slave who never knew anything else, some shred of dignity, while freely giving the absolution to the fascist who is standing over his still warm corpse.

#then again the canon also works hard to forgive Anakin for everything #which is a can of worms itself #I understand the purpose of that narrative and I understand that in the original trilogy it was more about Luke than it was about Anakin #but the current narrative is never being interesting and truly looking at his character with a critical eye #or even truly portraying him critically #the ahsoka show waved its hand to that direction but missed the actual target by a mile #anyway free Fox from Felony and the narrative he was put in #sw #tcw #commander fox #anakin skywalker #star wars meta

[babygirl-diaz]

Dance A Little, Dance With Me

After coming out to everyone at the hospital, Buck took Tommy home with him.

"Go take a shower," Buck told him. "I'll make us some dinner."

"I can't believe you did what you did back there," Tommy told him, still sounding a little in disbelief. He pulled Buck close and planted a kiss on his lips.

Buck laughed and gently pushed him away. "You're still covered in soot. Go take a shower and then we can talk."

Tommy wrapped his arms around Buck's waist. "You didn't seem to have a problem back at the hospital."

"That was more in-the-moment kinda thing. But now I'd like you to be all nice and clean so that I can make out with you again," Buck told him and pecked him on the lips one more time. "Now go. The bathroom is to your left. I'll leave some of my clothes out for you."

Tommy sighed and kissed Buck again before letting him go. He went to the bathroom while Buck went to get the clothes. Buck got his favorite pair of gray sweats and his light green "I love hugs" t-shirt that had a blue octopus hugging a heart. He thought it would look cute on Tommy.

Buck tried not to laugh when he went to the bathroom and heard Tommy singing "Sweet Caroline" off-key. He quietly left the clothes on the sink and went to the kitchen.

Buck kept dinner simple and decided to make Bobby's famous mac and cheese. He got everything ready and just as he put the food in the oven, Tommy came back from taking a shower.

"Nice t-shirt," Buck commented, smirking.

Tommy opened his arms and did a little twirl.

Buck went over to Tommy and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close. "You look super cute."

"I always endeavor to look super cute, thank you very much," Tommy replied and pressed his lips to Buck's.

Buck kissed him back and pushed him against the counter. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy climbed onto the counter behind him and leaned down to keep kissing Buck, while Buck stood in between his legs.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, languidly exploring and mapping out each other's mouths. At some point, Buck trailed kisses down to Tommy's neck and started kissing it. He left a mark on the column of his neck, eliciting a moan from Tommy. He remembered the moan Tommy let out at the hospital and then bit down on another spot.

"Fuck, you keep doing that, and I might end up letting you fuck me," Tommy said breathlessly.

"Well, you're gonna have to teach me how to do that, baby, because I have no fucking clue," Buck told him in between the kisses he left on his neck.

"Oh, I can definitely teach you a thing or two about how I like to be fucked," Tommy told him.

"Good," Buck replied and went back to kissing Tommy's lips.

Just as he slipped his hands inside Tommy's shirt, he smelled something burning, which was then followed by the fire alarm.

"Shit!" Buck jumped back and went to the oven to take out the mac and cheese. He dropped it on the stove and then turned to Tommy, "Hey, can you-"

"Yeah, I got the fire alarm," Tommy replied and went over to the alarm to wave a dish towel in front of it.

Soon the noise from the fire alarm subsided.

Buck remorsefully looked at the burned mac and cheese and sighed. "Guess we're gonna have to get takeout."

"I mean, it doesn't look that bad," Tommy pointed out.

Buck raised an eyebrow at him and Tommy immediately threw his hands up. "Sorry, I was just trying to be supportive."

Buck rolled his eyes and kissed Tommy again. "And you're amazing for doing that," he told him. "Okay, so, what do you wanna eat?"

"Mac and cheese?" Tommy replied with a straight face before he burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry."

"How about Thai food?" Buck suggested.

Tommy shrugged, "Yeah, I don't mind." He went over to the fridge and opened it. "Do you have any beer?"

"Yeah, I have to stock up but they should be in there somewhere," Buck replied waving in the general direction of the fridge as he ordered takeout.

Once takeout arrived, they sat on the couch eating it with Tommy pressed to Buck's side. They talked about their day and Buck filled him in the previous night and how wasted he and Eddie got.

"You two seriously partied with a bunch of strangers?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah, and we had a shit ton of fun," Buck replied. "I haven't had this much fun since I was in my early 20s."

Tommy picked up his beer and took a sip. "And I doubt Eddie's ever partied like that, considering he joined the army at 19 and then had all these responsibilities in his 20s?"

"You know, I had never considered that," Buck wondered out loud. "I guess that was his first time partying like a 20-year-old."

"I'm sorry I had to leave early," Tommy sighed.

"It's okay. I understand," Buck replied and kissed his temple.

"I do think I know how I can make it up to you, though," Tommy told him. "And also, thank you for cooking tonight."

"I barely cooked," Buck reminded him. "We ended up having to get takeout."

"Doesn't matter. If I hadn't distracted you, we'd be eating the mac and cheese right now."

Buck tilted his head to the side and looked at him. "Okay, so how are you gonna make it up to me?"

Tommy put his takeout container down and got up. He then moved to stand in front of Buck and held out his hand. "Come on."

"Huh?" Buck asked.

"You asked me to teach you how to dance for the wedding but I never got the chance. So lemme teach you now," Tommy replied.

Buck grinned and got up. "What song do you want?"

"Your Song by Elton John," Tommy replied.

"Hildy, play Your Song by Elton John on repeat," Buck told the virtual assistant.

Tommy took Buck's arms and put them around his neck and then put his own hands on Buck's waist. He pulled him close and started swaying him to the music. As they danced, Buck stepped on Tommy's toes a few times, until Tommy chastised him and told him to let him lead. And then they fell into a smooth step. Tommy twirled Buck around and caught him in his arms, making Buck laugh.

By the end of the song, Buck had his head on Tommy's shoulder, while Tommy swayed the both of them.

"Thanks, Tommy," Buck mumbled.

"Thanks for what?" Tommy asked.

"If it wasn't for you, I would have never had the courage to come out to my family and friends," Buck replied.

"Hey, I'm not gonna take credit for that. You're the one who was brave enough to do that," Tommy told him.

"Yeah, but if you hadn't been supportive, then I would have never been able to do that." Buck smiled and looked up at him. "So, thank you." He leaned in and captured Tommy's lips in another kiss.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #kinley #tevan #911 abc #fanfiction #911 fic #fluff

[themultifanshipper]

I would like to contribute my opinion on the lando/trump situation.

Warning, it's long and a bit nuanced (although slightly more a defence than an accusation but still keep an open mind)

And is edited as i find more things to say

First off, Lando is a victim of the formula one machine just like all the drivers. They are the puppets, the clowns, whatever analogy you want. The people behind the teams (team bosses, ceo's, sponsors etc... are what make the machine run, the drivers are just there to drive. He was approached by the ex president of the country he was in, on a high of winning his first race, and shook his hand while a million cameras were pointing in his direction. That can only happen one way: trump being invited by the team (bosses ceo's, whatever). Now, I despise trump and everything he stands for, but if I was in Lando's situation I would have had to do the same thing. (It so happens I was in a similar situation and had to shut my mouth and shake the hand of a politician I didn't like because I could have caused a diplomatic incident and lost my job and cost a lot of money in sponsorships). Also the alleged comments "It was an honour for him to be there/ you have to have respect for him" etc... are probably bullshit, but in the case that they are not and Lando is actually a trump supporter, if you cancel him for it, you would have to cancel half the drivers/team bosses/Ceo's etc in HISTORY.

The founding of formula one (like any institution ever) is by and for White/Rich/Heterosexual/Males. The FIA is corrupt. The teams are corrupt. It's an industry entirely run by money. It's capitalism in a bottle and some of y'all seem to forget that. The fact is the drivers could all be supporters of the right wing parties in their respective countries, would you cancel all of them?

For example, frank williams, the FOUNDER of Williams f1 team was openly a Thatcher supporter. There is a portrait of the bitch in his house (now his daughter's) as seen below, with a picture of.... george russell??

I also added a picture of Thatcher with Colin Chapman to emphasize that political figures often get involved in sports, doesn't mean the athletes align with their views. Trump, Reagan, Thatcher, Francisco Franco (a literal dictator).... they've all done it.

But let's have a quick look at Georgie boy then. A rich white man, he was quite friendly with Frank Williams, does that mean he's a tory? No. (Tbh he probably is but is smart enough to not talk about it)

Lewis Hamilton of all people was invited to lunch TWICE with the British Royal family (not to mention the knighthood), does that mean he's a racist cunt with no regard for other human lives? No. So why would he associate himself with them? Because he's smart enough to not alienate half the bloody population!

If these people had integrity and perfect morals, they would not be racing in F1. And for the few that are genuinely good people, they're smart enough to just be a cog in the machine to ensure their paycheck. We saw it with the horner situation, they won't get involved unless they actually support the bad guy. Similar situation to palestine, if they speak out either way, they will alienate countless sponsors and probably loose their seat.

Yes it's shit, yes it should be different, yes it should be inclusive but it's just not. It's veeery slowly changing though.

But back to Lando: now he isn't perfect obviously. (He's a white cis probably het man) He might even be right wing who knows, but I think taking alleged comments like "you have to respect the guy" out of context is dangerous. Objectively, yes there is an infinitesimal bit of respect you have to have for trump (hear me out) he managed to become PRESIDENT OF THE UNTIED STATES by manipulating the masses into thinking he was basically the reincarnation of God. Man is a genius, even though he's a cock. He's also a brilliant example of nepotism, capitalism and all round discrimination that represents the system we all live in. Additionally, florida is a pretty right wing state if i'm not mistaken (gun laws/anti abortion/anti lgbt etc...) and if lando had told trump to fuck off, there might have been riots and i'm only barely joking. Lando is a dick for the comments that were perhaps a bit unnecessary but y'all are seeing them as him endorsing trump lmao. As a (hopefully) future public figure, if the president of my country came to see me in front of a bunch of cameras i would also say it was an honour to meet him. At this level it's self preservation.

I will finish this rant by saying that I hope the world of f1 will change for the better in future years, already the gender diversification is going in the right direction, some programs are in place for kids who come from poorer backgrounds etc... but expecting that change to come from the puppets of capitalism is quite unreasonable. Lewis has set some standards that hopefully more and more drivers can stick to, but in the meantime cancelling a dude for breathing the same air as trump is stupid.

Ps: Y'all don't know the half of the awful private corporations and sponsors of the teams and drivers, so if you can't cope with the occasional dick on your screen, you might want to pick a different hobby. Preferably not involving public figures or PR in any capacity.

Edit 1: I've been seing ppl get mad at lando for saying he's his lucky charm and I think it's perhaps a language comprehension barrier thing. He did not say that. Trump said he was lando's lucky charm, then lando mentionned that trump had said it.

Edit 2: I've seen some clips of Zak Brown where he seems to be really friendly with trump. I wouldn't be surprised if it was his idea to introduce him to lando. CEO's are rarely great people, and although i'm glad he's been such a huge part of Lando's journey and success, i'm not a big fan of his. I just wish it would have been with someone a bit less complacent, like max or lewis, they wouldn't have said that stuff and the interaction would have been quite entertaining I reckon.

Edit 3: great post about the misunderstood comments at the press conference here

Don't hesitate to insult me in my asks, i will be answering them with equal enthusiasm :)

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #personal rant #miami gp 2024 #george russell #lewis hamilton

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWELVE

THIEF OF THREE DESTINIES

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~13k

⊲ previous

[July 1, 2020; 02:17am; hunters' hq]

[02:01] You: Megumi's back, he's fine

Delivered.

Unread.

[02:11] You: u ok?

Delivered.

Unread.

Gojo wasn't answering your calls either. You were drowning in an abyss of intrusive thoughts, each one worse than the last. Was he okay? If he was all right, why was he silent? Such silence was like the silence of a dead man - just as endlessly cold.

You stirred, pushing the images away from you and setting the phone aside. Maybe that was your lesson to learn. Wasn't that what he meant by loneliness?

There was nothing left of Kyle, not even his cold corpse was honored to rest deep underground. His image along with the vague tracings of his voice seemed to beg you not to forget him, but you knew that every image and every melancholy has a year later. Eventually, a wave of new memories would erase his still-green eyes. 

The moral compass had been broken, trampled, torn to pieces. In which direction should the lost traveler go now? This entire time traveler had been walking along the dark side of the moon towards the calling sun - towards something bright and warm. Where would the road lead if the sun was stolen?

"Meg," you called out detachedly. "Asleep?"

"No," replied the mechanical voice.

"I have a riddle."

"I'm listening."

"There are two hunters," you began, staring blankly at the black monitor screen. "One is experienced, the other is a newbie. They were surrounded by demons, the experienced one was killed, and the newbie survived. What kinda a case is this?"

"The newbie was with the demons," Meg replied without hesitation or questioning intonation.

"Think again," you said, admonishing more yourself than the artificial intelligence.

Meg was silent, but it was as if you could hear her digging through the informational bowels of universal human knowledge, and she was doing it so fast that it would take you a lifetime to absorb that much information. "Hmm...," Meg drawled. "The messengers don't get killed?"

"The messengers don't get killed," you confirmed in a whisper, watching in the extinguished monitor as your eyes went black.

You didn't even notice that you had chewed your own thumb to a bloody pulp. Those devils knew everything. From start to finish. They knew you'd broken into a settlement, knew which one, knew that Kyle would be going instead of you that day. So where was the rat lurking? Was it one of the people in the void? Or was it one of the people who lived in the house?

Knock-knock.

Your only task was to keep your head down. You knew exactly what they were after, and they seemed to be getting close. Every day it became harder for you to control the turns of the invisible blades embedded in your body. You wiped the moisture from your dark eyes with a sharp movement, and making sure you looked like anyone else, you walked to the door.

A pair of sad, frightened child's eyes greeted you. "Why ya still awake?" you asked Yuuji tiredly, trying to maintain a neutral, if not positive, attitude. The boy looked down at first, before peeking over your shoulder. "Okay, come in," you surrendered, throwing up your hands.

He walked hesitantly over to your bed and sat down on the very edge. It looked like he was about to fall to the floor. "I... I brought something," Itadori began in a shaky voice and reached into his pocket with the same hands. "I think...," he stammered, and you could see him literally chewing the inside of his cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you should have thrown it away," he stated in an already firm voice, looking you dead in the eye. In his outstretched hand lay a silver bracelet, mockingly sparkling. "Especially in the trash can," boy added more quietly, trying to hide from you again. "It's a memory."  

"I've never complained about my memory," you said, shrugging.

"That's not the point!" he protested, and the bracelet almost fell out of his hand. Itadori immediately pressed it to his chest. "Don't you wanna have a piece of him always near you? It's very precious," he whispered, pressing the jewelry harder against his chest.

"This thing's worth 20 bucks."

"Don't you dare say that," Itadori hissed. His fear faded away, making way for anger at the words you had said. "Take it!" he ordered, holding out the jewelry to you again. "Take it, now!"

It was the one shining thing that didn't make you want to take it or steal it. You walked over to the bed and sat down next to the boy, and you had no time for inner cries and agonizing - you couldn't show weakness in front of anyone. As soon as you took the bracelet in your hands, you felt like the ultimate fool. Why did you throw it away in the first place? It had never been a soulless piece of metal, at least not since you'd put it on your brother's arm.

You glanced around the workroom. Kyle wasn't here anymore, and he never would be. Maybe you'd never see him again, or maybe he'd see you in hell.

Along with everyone else.

"Thank ya," you smiled weakly but sincerely at Itadori. Maybe he sensed it, maybe he heard it in your voice, but he fidgeted restlessly, dropping his gaze to the floor again.

"What are you thanking me for...? I yelled at you. I'm sorry," he mumbled, and the swollen red face was drawn again with sorrow. Where is the artist who painted such things on children's faces? Maybe if you ripped their heart out, you'd feel a little better.

You wrapped your fingers around Yuji's chin, making him look up at you. "For being more mature than me today," you tried to wipe away the tears that had started streaming down his cheeks before you'd even finished speaking. He snuggled into your shoulder, muffling the tearing sobs. You didn't pay attention to how wet your sweatshirt was from his tears and snot, only gently stroking his back. "It's gonna be okay," you repeated the words like a mantra straight into the pink top of his head.

His body was clearly exhausted, and he collapsed in your arms. Yuji seemed to have cried for so long that all the water had gone out of his organism. "Try to get some sleep, 'kay?" you said, adjusting the pillow on the bed with your hand. At his exhausted questioning look, you shrugged. "Ya can go to your room if ya want. It's just that I remember ya saying it's quieter at my place."

You patted him on the top of his head and got up from the bed, heading back to the computer chair. A murmur behind you made you chuckle quietly - apparently Itadori had made his choice. "Y/N?" he addressed you quietly, covering himself with a blanket. You hummed questioningly. "You didn't call sensei?"

You didn't want to disturb an already wounded young heart. "He's busy right now, so I didn't bother him with the news," you said evasively. "Just texted him to say that Megumi is fine. Now go back to sleep."

A fresh morning breeze wandered through the room, taking all the memories with it as it made its way back through the window into the freedom of the bay. There really wasn't much stuff - you only needed three boxes to pack all of Kyle's clothes. Was it always this black and gray, or had you stopped perceiving colors?

You folded another T-shirt carefully, deliberately slow. After all, this was the last day you'd ever been this close to him. As you put the folded T-shirt in the box, you glanced at the unopened men's perfume on the bedside table. Would anyone need it now?

When you picked up the black sweatshirt, the door clicked open. The fresh air in the room was instantly freezing, chilling to the bone. Rachel was like the walking dead, even the large eyes on her gaunt face showed no signs of life. She stood on the other side of the bed, across from you, staring blankly at the sweatshirt you were holding.

You tentatively held it out to Rachel, and she took the sweatshirt in her hands after a few more seconds of staring blankly at the space. "Um...," you began quietly, watching her go through the clothes in her hands. "I packed everything here, so... When ya go to Hopetown, bring it with ya, 'kay?"  

Rachel covered her eyes for a moment, her nose buried in the sweater as if she hadn't heard you at all. You looked away awkwardly and headed for the exit. "Ya're going too," she demanded in a strangled voice.

You sighed convulsively and turned around - Rachel was still standing with her back to you. "Rach, I don't have time to stand by a tombstone that doesn't even have a body underneath it." 

Everything froze. Your ears heard nothing, your eyes saw nothing. Your skin felt neither wind nor touch. Even your memory stopped - all the images melted away, spreading out into the obscurity.

You came to your senses from the impact of your head hitting the floor. Rachel was on top of you, clutching your throat with both hands - she must have been doing it for a long time because your chest was already cramping helplessly. Certain places on your body were aching desperately, especially your ribs and cheekbones. "Rach," you wheezed, grasping weakly at her wrists.

She held it all in not making a sound, and you could have sworn you could see the muscles in her face tense behind the shroud of rage. You tried to reach out to her again, but another pathetic croak escaped your lips, and Rachel let go of your neck, whimpering suppressedly. "Ya're going," she hissed, getting up from the floor.

You pulled yourself up, coughing and rubbing your neck. "Rachel," your voice became an order of magnitude rougher as if your sister's hands were still clutching your throat. "I understand ya feel bad," you watched as she walked back to the bed, looking down at the same sweatshirt and wiping silent tears from her face. "But why ya so angry with me?"

She turned around sharply, meeting your uncomprehending gaze. "Because it's ya who should bear that burden, not me!" she shouted out desperately. "It's-," her own sobbing interrupted her, and she tried to push it away, hiding her face in hands. "It's all your fault, so why am I theone in tears right now?"   

"I didn't ask anyone to follow me-"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" the perfume flew just an inch from your face. When it hit the wall, it left nothing behind but shards that crumbled to the floor. "Shut up!" Rachel gasped and agonized with her own emotions. Despite the fact that she let them out, it didn't get any easier in the slightest. "Ya just an ungrateful bitch," she hissed weakly. "Ya'll go to the funeral. Otherwise your white-haired weirdo will find out-"

"He knows," you cut it off.

"That's how it is," Rachel said, naively slamming her eyes shut. "Then it's strange that he's still with ya. I can barely stand ya, even though I've been around since I was a kid."

"Rachel," you sighed tiredly. "Let's just not fight, 'kay? This isn't really a good time for that."

Wiping the nearly dried paths of tears from her face, your sister straightened to her full height and headed for the exit. "Ya're going or ya don't have a sister anymore either," she mumbled absently, shoving you with her shoulder.

It was definitely her favorite.

"We are gathered here today to honor the memory of our beloved son, brother, friend..."

The weather was clearly mocking. The midday sun brightly illuminated the growing greenery, the black-clad people, and the names on the tombstones. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, just a vast blue. Nature didn't seem to want to grieve with the people. She didn't care about all of you.

You stood away from everyone else, leaning against a tree. There was no place to hide in this cemetery field, and the tree seemed to be your only refuge. You pressed your shoulder against it as hard as you could, smoking your third cigarette.

"Words cannot express the full horror of this tragedy that has touched us all..." 

Tragedy.

Megumi and Danielle stood in the front rows, huddled together as if trying to become one. Both were pale and lifeless, but Dany still had the strength to cry. She stood with her face buried in his neck, unable to look at the closed coffin, and the boy stroked her head inconsolably, unable to take his eyes off of it. It was unclear which of them had it worse, but they decided to deal with it together.

It brought some people together.

Rachel stood beside them, holding Mike in her arms. She kept her hand on the redhead's head, pulling her son closer to her chest as if ordering him not to look. You could see his little body flinch and twitch. Rachel never spoke to you after that fight. She didn't even look in your direction.

Someone was distanced by it.

Frank's skin was the color of his hair and beard, but he struggled to keep that same good-natured expression, though it was completely drenched in sadness. He stared blankly at the empty coffin. How could you look him in the eye now that you couldn't even bring the body?

The people from the void who had come to the funeral were frightened. This man had saved them, fought for them, but if he was suddenly mortal, didn't that mean the rest of you were too?

Tragedy inevitably befalls everyone. For some it prepares them, for others it comes completely unexpectedly. It leaves behind either a hardened spirit or a broken heart - a person must choose for themselves.

"Wherever he goes, I believe he will end up in the arms of God..."

If God didn't have time to keep track of everything going on here, who's to say he had time to keep track of the other side? Did it even exist? You looked around the cemetery helplessly. There was a whole universe under each tombstone, but what would be under your brother's one?

"Y/N," greeted the woman who came up behind you.

"Camila," you said, taking another drag on your cigarette. The woman leveled herself at you and stared through her dark glasses at the spectacle in front of you. "I didn't think anyone from the old generation would come here."

"Can we be judged for that?" asked Camila plaintively. "Kyle's death hardly our business."

"He's Frank's son," you reminded her. "To Frank ya owe a lot."

"I didn't come here to bicker," the woman said sternly, nervously smoothing her already perfectly bunched hair. "I want you to give me my sons back."

"Did that one death scare ya like that?" you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"One?" barked Camila, but immediately lowered her voice so as not to draw attention to herself. "Whatever. Anyway, I'm expecting Axel and Ryan home tomorrow. If not, we'll come pick them up ourselves," she gave you a meaningful look as if she wanted you to feel like you were nothing.

"Will mom's skirt save them in battle, too?"

There was a resounding smack. You bit your lip and put a hand to your aching cheek.

"It's called concern," she hissed, leaning over you. "You don't know of such a thing, do you? You don't care who you let go to waste."

"Concern?" you chuckled. "It didn't keep your hubby safe," when she tried to hit you again, you intercepted her arm, digging your nails into her skinny wrist. The hiss of bubbling blood eclipsed all sound, so you didn't immediately notice that there was no noise at all. No voices, no stomping. "Hit me again and I'll rip your heart out. Just like everyone else who will come to our house," you had barely finished grinning when a ringing silence that you hadn't sensed earlier hit your ears. Stunned by this, you turned towards the people gathered here to pay their honor. All of them were looking at you.

Shoving the frightened Camila's hand away from you, you strode away from the cemetery to the taunts of the midday sun.

Gojo thought he was doing the right thing. At least for the first couple days. Wasn't it fair to feed you the same pill you kept giving him? If you didn't give it a taste, how else would you know how bitter it was? That's how he reassured himself when he saw another missed call. If on the first day it made him smile stupidly, after a while he grew more and more anxious - maybe you've forgotten him already? He had to hand it to you - in all this time you called only four times, the last call was dated last night. It wasn't enough for him. He didn't want you to miss him only at night, he wanted to be in your thoughts every morning and evening, whether you were eating or fighting.

Gojo didn't miss your messages either. Megumi did well, how could he not? It couldn't have happened to any of his students otherwise.

He muffled the panic rising in his chest by poking curse's eye out with his heel. The eye burst with a squelching sound. He couldn't count how many times it had been these days because he had personally volunteered for mission after mission. "God, that's a lot of yelling," he muttered, tucking his hands into his pockets and pressing down on the ugly head even harder. Whether there was a brain inside the curse head or something else, Gojo's shoes were immediately stained with purple goo.

Gojo didn't hear the phone ring because of the ultrasound, but he pulled it out when he felt it vibrate in his pocket. Biting his lip in frustration, he stared at the caller's name for a while longer before answering. "Hey," Gojo chirped.  

"Jesus, what's that sound in the background?" hissed Megumi. The boy was heard to pull away from the phone.

"Oh, wait a second," Gojo rambled apologetically. He squatted down, and leaning over the curse, grabbed it by something that resembled a throat. When the covers crunched, when the curse froze, opening its mouth in an already silent scream, a mad chuckle escaped Gojo's lips. Clenching his hand even tighter, he ripped the creature's head off with a single tug. Tossing it away from him, Gojo leaned the phone to his ear again. "Better?" he asked carelessly.  

A long sigh sounded from the other side. "Are you really that busy or are you really just an unscrupulous asshole?"

"Hey!" he resented. "It's been so long since we've seen each other, and you don't have a warm word to say?"

"You should come. Anyway, the ceremony's already over, but I think it would be respectful to at least show up here," Megumi muttered moodily, and what was even more surprising to Gojo was the weakness hiding behind the usual scowl.

"Ceremony?" wondered Gojo, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "What did you guys do in there without me?" he asked, trying to suppress a nervous grin. 

"Uh," Megumi began uncertainly. "Didn't Y/N tell you?"

"Told me about what?" he inquired, smiling forcefully. There was silence on the other end, and the longer it lasted, the harder his heart began to pound. It pounded loudly and painfully, breaking all his arrogance and confidence in his own actions. "Megumi, told me about what?" 

Before his heart could stop, there was a rustling sound as if Megumi had pulled the phone as close to him as possible. "Kyle's dead."

They'd never been close. A few insults and promises to kick each other's asses were all they had in common. However, Gojo wasn't hurting for himself right now.

That's why you called him last night. You had called him twice in a row, and while Gojo had hesitated to answer the first call, the second one had made him throw the phone away. He'd been told that many times, directly or veiledly, jokingly or seriously, but as soon as he waved his hand, the words evaporated before they reached his soul. He couldn't even look up now, though. For the first time he felt like nothing.  

Sitting at the empty dining room table, Rachel stared out the window as if there were something more mesmerizing than the everyday sunset. Whether she prayed, pleaded, or argued, the inhabitants of heaven were adamant or deaf. The angels and their arrows did not care about human suffering.

Gojo was sure she heard the front door slam, so why didn't she turn around? The only thing that moved was her fingers, which scrabbled against the tabletop, occasionally touching the crystal ashtray that held at least twenty or so cigarette butts. The ashes smeared awkwardly against the table were like feelings - neither reversed nor returned, only wiped away with a damp cloth. "Hey," Gojo sounded muffled in spite of his ringing voice. "Sorry for your loss," Rachel never turned around. No nod of her head, no greeting. "Um... You know where Y/N is? Is she still in town?"  

"Why would I know where your monster is," she mumbled. Despite her slurred words, there was no bottle or glass on the table in front of her. Apparently, her father's influence was taking its toll.

"Uh? You're her sister," he said with a perplexed shrug.

Rachel clicked her tongue lazily, not taking her eyes off the window. "I wish I wasn't."

"Oh, I see," he drawled, an arrogant smirk in his voice. "So you're the poor unfortunate girl. The only one who lost someone, huh?" he tilted his head sideways, looking at your sister. There was no child sitting in front of him, so where did such childish behavior come from? "Grow up already."

Rachel sat still for a few seconds, then slowly turned her body and stared at Gojo with empty eyes. He'd come to her house, to her family, hung around her sister, failed to show up at her brother's funeral, and dared to mock her.

"Tranquillity."   

Gojo remained standing as he was. He realized that something had happened; even though he wasn't shackled, he felt strange as if the chain did exist and it was beginning to be slowly pulled around his neck. "Is that all you got?" he asked excitedly. There was only one desire burning in him now - to test the limits of his own abilities. 

If she'd had the strength to smile, her face would have contorted into a mad grimace, but right now Rachel just kept watching him. Nothing reflected in her glassy eyes. No surprise, no satisfaction. "What were ya saying about your infinity?" she asked blankly, not expecting an answer. It was not enough for her. If he couldn't feel the mental pain, let him feel the physical.

"Tranquillity."

She was ready to tear him and his equanimity. Thin black strips crawled along her fingers, wrapping around every inch of tanned skin.

It was hard for him to breathe, but the reverse technique was doing its job - it broke the chains time after time, but they were put back on, each one thicker than the last. His hand flew involuntarily to his throat.

"Rachel, that's enough!" shouted Frank, rushing down from the second floor. He hadn't even had time to change - he was still wearing his black suit. "I said STOP!" he howled, and Rachel's head popped up. When the chains of dark energy stopped restraining Gojo, he began gasping for air.

Frank walked over to him, and taking him by the shoulder, looked him over anxiously. "Son, ya okay?" Gojo nodded, rubbing his throat. "And ya," he turned angrily to his daughter. "What the hell ya doing?"  

Rachel showed an emotion other than total absence for the first time in a day. She laughed bitterly. "I'm just wondering why everyone is defending her."

"I don't know who exactly ya talking about," the man hissed. "But we have a duty to protect her because she's our family."

Rachel laughed even harder, and the louder her laugh was, the crazier it sounded. "Mom never carried her under her heart! She's here because you're a hearty idiot! You just felt sorry-"

"Shut your mouth!" snapped Frank sharply.

"I won't!" she yelled, jumping up from her chair. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for her! I just want to come home and know that Kyle will meet me! Alive!" she gasped, muffling her own sobs. "And now he's gone. All because ya took pity on her once! You should have just left her to them," she whimpered weakly, her head collapsing onto her chest.

"You don't feel well. Go to your room," Frank ordered softly.

She glared sharply at him, for ire gave her strength. "Ya can't tell me what to do!"

"I am your father. Sure I can," he replied firmly, and though he kept his voice low, it sounded much louder than his daughter's screams. 

"Obedience."

Rachel groaned painfully and tried to keep her legs in place, but they were trying to get off the floor against her will. "Fuck you," she spat out, and then she went up the stairs and disappeared to the second floor.

Gojo watched Frank anxiously. The man was breathing heavily, staring after his daughter and rubbing his chest as if his heart were painfully throbbing. His arm was covered in dark, wriggling stripes, and when Frank's legs started to wobble, Gojo picked him up immediately. "Hey, hey, oldman," he gibbered worriedly. "What's the matter?" he dragged Frank to the couch, and sitting him down, poured him some water. 

"Thanks, son," the man took the glass with a shaky hand and took a couple sips. "Sorry for no warm welcome today. We're all on edge right now," setting the water aside, Frank pulled back the collar of his shirt. The dark lines wrapping around his collarbones almost reached his heart. "Shit...and here I thought I can live to fight another day," he grinned grimly.

Frank wasn't a fool. He may not have been the smartest man, but he had a lot of experience under his belt. He saw no anger or irritation on Gojo's face at what had happened, just the faded blue eyes. "Lost someone?" the man asked.

Gojo nodded briefly without looking up. "Yeah," he said quietly. 

"She's in the church now," Frank prompted politely. "She went to give some things away, so... You'll find her there."

"Do you really think I'd leave an old man with a heart attack?" clinging to the remnants of his temper, Gojo glanced slyly at Frank.

He got a fatherly slap, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to set him straight. "Go already," Frank growled, and Gojo didn't bother to argue or bicker with him. Rubbing his aching heart, Frank barely waited for the door to slam shut. "Ya left too soon, Kyle," he sobbed, digging his fingernails into the blackened skin. "They still need your care."   

You dragged the boxes to the far corner hidden behind the columns and unlit by hundreds of candles. You did it as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the praying parishioners. On days like this, the church came alive. The hall filled with light from the fire was crowded with people, and those who did not have enough room in the pews reverently said their prayers on the floor, on their knees. Everyone was silent, all those present turned only to God. Paradoxically, it only took one dead person to do this. On other days, the place was not gloomy, but rather empty - all the voices of those who came here echoed off the walls.

You could barely lift the boxes as if each one weighed a ton. When you would sneak quietly into a corner with a box, your forearms would ache terribly and you would want to drop everything or carry it back home. Were clothes always this heavy? Or was it the weight of parting?

When you reached the last box, you took your time putting it down. You held it tightly to you as if you were hugging it, and sat down on the floor next to the rest of the things. Watching the people in the gap between the columns, you wondered - perhaps you should have done the same. No one had ever explained what silent prayers could do. It was something intimate, something that remained only between man and the creature from above.

Man is all-powerful. Man is fragile. A person can move mountains or they can break their heel jumping off the bench. Person loves and hates, misses and has fun, makes mistakes and feats, but they forget that all this exists only because of them. Without them there would be neither conquered mountains, nor love nor hate.

And then the man dies.

"Y/N," a soft voice addressed you. "Don't sit on the cold floor. You'll catch a cold," you looked up and saw the Holy Father holding out his hand to you.

Setting the box aside with the rest of Kyle's belongings, you took his palm and stood up, shaking off your feet. "Kalev," you awkwardly tried to shove the boxes away so they wouldn't get in the way. "Um... Thank ya for performing the ceremony."

"What are you talking about?" wondered the Holy Father quietly. He was still dressed in his ceremonial robes, and unlike the others, it was completely white except for the wide collar - it was embroidered with silver threads. "Of course, I agreed to it. I don't care about the rumors. We're all human, and we deserve to go to the other world accompanied by a God."

"Yeah," you muttered, faltering and not looking up. "I guess ya're right."

"What's troubling you?" he asked worriedly, barely touching your hand. "We can always talk," seeing your gaze flicker around the church, he squeezed your palm harder, trying to reassure you.

You knew what awaited you behind those columns, away from the congregation. A small, cramped room that separated the speakers by a mesh partition. "There's no way I'm going to the confessional," you grinned nervously, feeling the back of your neck sweat.

"I didn't say anything about confession," the Holy Father smiled modestly. "I was talking about ordinary human interaction," the man spoke the most ordinary words, but the aura around him radiated a light-winged warmth as if he really was protected by a god. "I will always be happy to talk to you, Y/N," he continued to hold your hand in his, wrinkled and cognizant of the years that carried not only his joys and sorrows, but others' as well. "But it seems to me that someone else wants to talk to you now."

His kind gaze didn't change a bit as he looked over your shoulder. When he let go of your hand, he nodded softly, ordering you to go. As if it were a command from above, you turned around.

You couldn't see his face in the shadow of the columns, but you knew who it was. You walked past Gojo and sat down on the step without even looking at him. Since it was the will of the shadows, let the expression on his face remain a mystery to you forever. "I'm sorry," came the husky voice that had always been ringing and cheerful.

"Me too," you replied detachedly, watching the deserted town.

He carefully sat down beside you, keeping his distance. "Why didn't you tell me what happened?"

"So ya didn't see the calls and texts after all."

"I saw, but...," the heated tiles beneath his feet began to crumble. Gojo had heard once of that feeling of the ground leaving beneath one's feet, but no one had warned him that it would do so slowly. "If you only texted me about what happened, I would be here right away."

"Why," you couldn't even catch the sarcasm in the impersonality of your voice. "Did something like this really have to happen for ya to finally pick up the phone and say ya 'kay?"

So that was it. You didn't ask for help or pity. You just wanted to be reassured that he was okay. "I really am an asshole," there was none of his usual sass in his voice. Just the realization crashing down on him like a slab of granite, crushing all arrogance and carelessness. "I'm sorry. I'm not- I'm just- God," he buried his face in his palms. "I can't even find the right words."

"Whatever," you said, and your alienation did not catch his despair. "I still have more to think about besides another person being disappointed in me."

"No, no, no. It's not like that at all," he mumbled in a weak voice. He cupped your face. To his surprise, you gave in effortlessly as if you were a rag doll. "Only a brainless idiot would be disappointed in you," he leaned his forehead against yours. "And I'm an idiot, but I have brains. Right?" he asked you, and noticing the faintly familiar wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, he smiled, even though his eyes were glistening treacherously.

"If you had brains, you'd run away," you didn't realize that both his mind and his heart had been screaming to the contrary for a long time. That's why he was here now, in front of you and with you, all broken with naked soul. 

Gojo pressed you tighter against him and even pushed you back a little, so as not to disturb the exiting parishioners, but you didn't notice anything. On the other hand, he noticed everything, right down to the way you burrowed harder into his neck when someone walked past you. "Mochi," he rubbed his nose softly against the top of your head. "Is anyone home?"

"No," you replied without raising your head. "All here in Hopetown."

Not to a grieving Rachel, not to a worried Frank, not to a maelstrom of hissing hunters - he didn't want to give you to anyone. Gojo hoped you would understand his selfish desire. "Let's go home then, 'kay?" he whispered and, stunned by the church bells and the beating of his own heart, he kissed you shyly on the temple - your very first kiss. 

You washed away today - all the water running down the drain, taking the dust, sweat, anger, and pain with it. You tried not to disturb your mental equilibrium, and one way to maintain it was with a routine. After smearing moisturizers on your body and applying balm to your hair, you wrapped yourself in a robe and stood in front of the dresser with your clothes. Gojo wanted you to open up - it was time to start somewhere. 

You had no idea what was waiting for you on the floor above. You'd agreed to just watch something, but Gojo was running around the kitchen trying to make a quick meal. He's already gotten it into his head that you're an omnivore. Maybe there were some exceptions like boiled carrots or something, but he didn't like those things too, which meant you'd find something to your liking from all the things he'd quickly cooked and panic-bought at an unknown store - in his state of chaos, Gojo didn't even realize where he'd teleported to. Garlic croutons, mozzarella cheese balls, baked shrimp in bacon, nachos with chili sauce, a few chocolate bars - cholesterol plaques. Everything just the way you liked it. "Well... Acceptable," he muttered, eyeing the edibles.

"What is it?" you asked, peering out from behind his forearm. Gojo didn't even jump - he was used to living in this house with the thought that you could be behind him at any moment. He was ready for anything. Or he thought so until he turned around. 

You were wearing regular pajama pants. Avocado, kitten, funny writing, or solid colors - he'd seen them all. But instead of the usual closed shirt, you were wearing a top. A little stretched and faded, but it hid almost nothing. "Uh," you drawled uncertainly, noticing the lost expression on Gojo's face. "Is something wrong?" you took a step back.  

Gojo had long suspected what was under your clothes, and his suspicions were confirmed. Scars of all kinds - sunken, bumpy, torn, and stretched - adorned your skin, layered on top of each other. The whitish-pink indentations on your wrists were like bracelets, and your throat was covered with many thin tightened cuts, like a dried bloody necklace.  

That wasn't what Gojo was interested in. He knew that if he gave it a single thought, he would be consumed by rage, which was good only in battle and only if it was cold. However, in helpless rage one could only find the road to self-defeat. Anyway, a trigger clicked quietly in his head.   

Kill them all.

"N-no, it's okay," Gojo mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your naked arms, shoulders, collarbones, and neck - it made it seem as if you'd exposed more than just a part of your body. "Y-you just- uh," he panted quietly and tried to brush away the unruly white strands that tickled his burning face with his hands. "You took me by surprise," he mumbled awkwardly, raising his eyes to you again.

"Well, I just wish I could wear something like that sometimes too. At least in your workroom," you shrugged. "When I told ya ya could sleep over sometimes, I didn't think ya'd end up living there," you chuckled, not noticing how the man in front of you was being pulled further and further into the abyss by the shame.

"Sorry, I- Uh, I-I just...," Gojo kept stammering like a flustered teenager, and his hands couldn't find their place - he was trying to shove them into his pockets, then cross them over his chest, then fix his hair again. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think of that," he admitted timidly. 

"Nothing, it's fine," you smiled, seeing his condition. "If it bothered me too much, I'd tell ya about it, so... Let's just take it all to the TV," you suggested, pointing to the food. Gojo nodded, and you walked over to the dining table. Seeing several bars of chocolate, you looked dumbfounded. "God," you whimpered. "Wait here. I forgot something." 

You had no right to do that. He'd been through too much emotion that day, and this waiting during your sudden outburst only made him more anxious. He tried to rub his face with his hands to get the red paint off it or to cool it down a little, but it was in vain. Even his hands were burning.

Gojo was eager to get everything ready. He moved all the food to the coffee table, fluffed all the pillows on the couch, brought a couple of blankets, turned on the TV and searched for a movie, but nothing worked. He was still in a panic. 

"Here," you drawled uncertainly, rising from the workroom and walking over to him, sitting on the couch and tapping his foot against the floor. "It's hardly tasty, so...," you bit your lip, holding out the chocolate bar to him. "Just a souvenir from the void," you chirped, flopping onto the couch and tucking your legs under you.   

Gojo stared dumbly at the bar of chocolate in the weathered wrapper - it had been pink, but there was no lettering or logo. Did you think of him?  Was there really room in your head for him in the midst of the cold and the demons, the half-dead people and the unknown? When you were all alone and didn't know how to get out? "I won't eat it, I guess," he said weakly, though he tried to smile slyly.

"Prissy," you snorted, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it at him. "Crank up TV."

You've seen several movies, but Gojo didn't understand any of them. The plot, the acting, the locations - he couldn't remember any of it, even though he was staring straight at the screen. Thoughts were rushing around in his head, and his side vision was emphasizing you. You were eating with an envious appetite on whatever he'd cooked or bought, which made him bury his face harder into the pillow he was cradling against his chest. Was it fair that you were so comfortable around him? Was he the only one in this room with a heart that was out of place?    

"That's it," you sighed tiredly, stretching. "I'm full and I can't move," you said, throwing the pillow on the couch and flopping down on it, keeping your legs tucked in so you wouldn't disturb Gojo. 

Okay, it may have been unfair, but it was rarely otherwise in this world. He made that decision on his own. If you were knocked out and made to run away by his attempts to get closer to you, he was willing to back off, but just one step back. No further. Everything was fine as long as you let him stay by your side in this room, on the same couch, eating mozzarella cheese balls he'd made.

"Hey," you poked your foot gently into his thigh. "You're falling asleep," you said, watching his eyelids slip shut. "At least lie down." 

Gojo glanced sleepily at the door; he didn't want to go down to the workroom. He sighed tiredly and lay down behind you. In a strangely familiar habit, he put his arm around your waist - your back was pressed against his chest. "Mochi," Gojo whispered gently into your shoulder, realizing it was time for a risky endeavor. "Look, this might seem weird to you, but... Is it just me or are you and Rachel not getting along?" 

He furrowed his brows at his own insolence, though he hadn't been bothered by those devils pulling his tongue before. You remained silent, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb, an action that made him relax a little. "We fight with her a lot," you finally uttered. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I just heard something I wasn't supposed to hear," he admitted honestly. "She said things like, uh... It's not like a common fight."

"She rarely watches her tongue," a shaky exhale escaped you, and Gojo, burrowing deeper into your neck, tried with all his might to show he was there for you. "Rachel, she's... She's not the bad person. It was just a bad day, that's all," he felt you squeeze his hand harder as if you were trying to hold him in place. "Besides... She has a right to be mad at me." 

He squeezed your hand in response. "Why?"

"I killed her husband."

You sat in the huge wooden barn, surrounded by sleeping cattle. The thin hay stung your skin even through your clothes, but you didn't dare move; you sat obediently as you had been told. The strong wind made the barn door wobble as if it were about to swing open. Nothing could be heard outside, only the long whistle of the night air through the cracks.

You tried irritably to wipe the dried blood off your hands, your skin itching and aching in places as you tried so hard to get rid of the scarlet liquid. With the quiet sleepy snorting of the animals and the shoving of another straw away from you, you wondered angrily. What had gone wrong? Where had you miscalculated? And where the fuck did Frank go?

No matter how fast or slow the time dragged on, he was already late. Did he really think that if he told you to sit still and keep your nose clean, he could disappear as long as he wanted?  

As irritation began to turn to frustration, the barn door swung open, banging loudly against the wall. "Shit," mumbled Frank to the howling wind that blew in. He examined the door, and making sure it was still on its hinges, closed it back with force.

You immediately jumped to your feet, approaching him. "Well? How bad is it?" you worried.

He put his arm around your shoulders, forcing you back into the haystack and sat down beside you. The stack immediately sagged, nearly flattening to the floor. "I'm not gonna lie. It's pretty bad," Frank admitted on an exhale.

"Hunters?"

"There's less than half of them left."

"And the people?" you asked hopefully.

"Everyone was slaughtered," Frank reported grimly, patting you comfortingly on the knee.

"Wonderful," you said desolately. "They were the first people we brought out of the void, and for what? So that a couple weeks later they could just be killed?"

"It's okay," the man put his arm around you, and noticing the deep cut on your eyebrow, touched it - dark lines immediately began to tighten it. "The important thing is that we're still alive."

"What... What's up with the plantation?" you asked through force, expecting the worst.

Your expectations were confirmed. "Burned down along with the village," Frank said threateningly quietly. "We don't have the black orchid anymore."

You jumped to your feet again, and even Frank's heavy hand couldn't hold you in place. You started pacing from side to side, wringing your hands nervously. "That's fucking bullshit," you bellowed. "Hunters have lived there for centuries, has anyone ever attacked?" at your rhetorical question Frank still shook his head. "Then what the hell? Did someone turn us in?"

"I have no clue," the man shook his head contritely. "We'll have to think about it on a fresh head. Right now it's better to rest."

Because of your worries and the excitement of the elements of nature, you did not hear someone knocking shyly on the barn door. The guest, not waiting to be answered, opened the door themselves.

You turned around, but Frank had already managed to step forward and covered you with his back. "Oh, Noah," he exhaled, and his body relaxed. "Thanks for bailing us out," Frank said, and he wasn't so hard at covering you anymore. Peeking out from behind his shoulder, you met the worried gaze of a man who was wrapping himself more tightly in a fur vest.

"It's nothing," Noah muttered, shivering from the cold. "But you can't stay here for long," he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Don't think I'm chasing you out of here. It's just that they... They might find out through me that you're here."

"Don't worry. We'll wait out the night and leave at dawn," the insider nodded uncertainly at Frank's assurance and took a step backward, slamming his back into the wall. The clattering pitchfork made him jump up and he stormed out of the barn. "I dunno where to go, though," he admitted aloud.

"Then you'll come to our house," you said in a voice that didn't tolerate bickering.

"I doubt the hunters would agree," grinned Frank sadly.

"Let them go to motels then. I don't care," you waved it off, settling back on the haystack. "We ain't done with that settlement yet anyway. Those people need a place to live, and without hunters, there'll be more room in the house."

"Still... The house isn't rubber, after all," the man frowned.

"We have to rebuild the village," you tried to cheer Frank up. "Somewhere on the edge of the Earth. And this time we'll have to think seriously about how to protect it."   

***

Two months had passed since the bloody incident, and you were on tenterhooks again. It was comforting to know that you weren't the only one in that state. Kyle was sitting next to you on the couch in the hallway of the infirmary. He jumped up, walking to the closed door of the chamber, and then sat back down. Involuntarily watching his fidgeting, you began to get even more nervous. Doc had never taken so long to examine a patient before; had something terrible happened to Rachel?

Your brother wouldn't stop - he would pop his head up every now and then when there was a rustling and mumbling outside the door. "Ya're not helping. Sit down," you turned to him exhaustedly as he once again got up from the couch.

You shivered as the doc's replica rushed past you. The same white coat, the same hands that clutched the clipboard and pen, only the replica never had a face. A blank canvas with no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Doc was always good at optimization, but the implementation was sometimes horrifying.

You both rose from your seats as doc left the ward and closed the door behind him. Clutching the clipboard to his chest, he stared at you over his glasses. "Congratulations," he said glumly. "She's pregnant."

"What?" you both simultaneously blurted out, and were reflections of each other - both amazed, right down to your open mouths.

"I mean, it's...," began a panting Kyle. "That's great!"

"Go to her," Doc nodded, but as you took a step toward the room, he grabbed your arm. "Not you. In my office. Now," Doc hissed and immediately rushed off in the direction of his office. You and Kyle looked at each other dazedly, and after a little while, you headed after doc.

As you closed the office door, you saw doc fidgeting with his medical records, and when he found the right one, he began to flip through the pages. "Doc, what's the matter?" you worried, watching as he began to write something down. The pen was almost tearing the paper.

"Sit down," he called out without raising his eyes. You obediently took the chair and moving it closer to the desk, sat down. "I won't beat around the bush," he tossed the medical records aside and interlocking his fingers, stared at you again. "Rachel has uterine hypoplasia. Or rather, she had uterine hypoplasia."

"Uh," you began confusedly, digging around doc's desk with your eyes, not sure why. Maybe looking for answers. "Can we use human language?"

"Undeveloped uterus," doc chided. "Specifically in her case, no bigger than this thing here," he tossed a pencil eraser under your nose. "I examined her from top to bottom just a month and a half ago, everything was the same. And now she's pregnant," he said coldly.

"She never told me anything about her disease," you said wistfully, thoughtfully twirling a pencil eraser in your hands.

"She suspected her reproductive problems, but I never told her anything about her disease," doc explained glumly. "Rob wanted kids too much, and I wanted to find a solution to that problem before I told them everything," he grimaced as he watched you put the eraser back on the table. "But the problem seems to have been solved for me."

"Couldn't ya... Ya know, recover her or something?" you suggested weakly, crossing your arms.

"I can only replicate what is already available. Not create new things," doc shook his head, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table.

"So what ya getting at?" you asked, the corners of your lips involuntarily creeping upward, and there was no way you could stop that panicked nervous smile.

Was it because of this that a few months ago you all literally drowned in blood and lifeless bodies? Was the price of all this something ephemeral, something that had not yet come into this world? You didn't want to believe it, and you hoped that none of you would say it out loud.

Doc was of a different opinion. He was always satisfied only with truth and facts, and it didn't matter what they carried with them. "If you don't believe in God, I suggest you to start," he said, leaning back in his chair. "After all, if this isn't a miracle of God, I'll laugh in the face of anyone who says it's just a coincidence."  

***

Rachel didn't have any of those weird wants - no cucumbers with chocolate, no honey and chips, no chalk - but her appetite was growing by the day. Because of her cravings, you could go to the store several times a day, only to have her tell you afterwards that she didn't want it anymore. Just like that, you were shoving now unwanted strawberries into the fridge. The container crumpled from the force you exerted, and the walls of it turned scarlet - unable to withstand such violence, the poor strawberry simply burst.

When you heard your sister's mumbling from the couch again, you spread your arms out to the sides with all your fingers together, closed your eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths to catch the slipping calm. You weren't supposed to be angry, Rachel was pregnant. This behavior was normal.

"What the hell ya doing there?" whined Rachel, peering out from behind the back of the couch. "The show's already starting."

"I'm coming," you muttered, slamming the refrigerator door shut. As soon as you sat down on the couch, she immediately laid her head on your lap, not caring at all about the way your legs were going to cramp up. Sighing, you started stroking her red curls, realizing where this was going. "Ya can't sleep on the couch forever. It's bad for your back."

"Back off," she snorted, fidgeting and tugging the blanket over her. "What can I do? Rob stinks."

"What's that he smells like?" you laughed softly.

"How should I know?" she whined for the umpteenth time this week. "He just stinks. I get nauseous around him all the time."

"Ya sure it's about the smell?" you asked casually, smirking eagerly, for which you received a hard slap on the thigh. "Ouch!" Rachel only frowned more at your exclamation and squirmed harder into a ball, not taking her eyes off the TV. "Rach... How did ya even realize ya were pregnant?"

"Well...," she drawled thoughtfully. "I got my period first. When it first start when you're thirteen it's normal, but when you're in your early twenties... I had a real panic attack," she laughed merrily, remembering her flighty state. "I thought I had vaginal cancer or something."

"Rachel," you giggled quietly along with her.

After calming down a bit, she continued. "I went to the doc right away, and he calmed me down, saying I was just menstruating. Only he was looking unkindly at my medical records. Dunno, maybe I imagined it. Just a couple weeks later, I got so sick...," she whimpered, placing a hand on her still growing belly. "I thought I had poisoned myself with something, but Rob kept following me around and insisting to take a pregnancy test. So, it just happened," she pressed her palm harder against her lower abdomen, and she could have sworn she felt another heartbeat even though her common sense screamed that it was too early for that. "Ya think I'll be a good mom?" she asked muffled, almost bashfully.

"Uh...," you drawled surreptitiously, playing with a strand of her hair. "I guess so? Actually, it depends on the kid, too. It's a matter of luck," you shrugged, trying to choose your words. "If it's a gifted child - fine, but if it's not... Well, then ya'll be scrubbing shit off the walls," you giggled, which earned you another hard slap to the knee. "That hurts!" you squeaked.

The fact that she was unaware of it was neither comfort nor relief. The deeper you went into your thoughts, the more your hands shook as if your mind were a labyrinth, its icy walls stretching to the edge of heaven, leaving no way out. You didn't know if you had to do it or if you just wanted to, but it seemed like the best solution.

Toxicosis is a terrible thing. Either a woman eats a lot and then vomits, or she eats nothing at all and still vomits. After a few trips to the bathroom with Rachel, she finally fell asleep. You carefully put a pillow under her head instead of your lap and headed to the second floor.

You didn't spend more than a minute in there. All you had to do was walk as quietly as possible past the sleeping Rob, steal his phone, and carry it into the workroom. Trifling matter, but when you got to the desk, you couldn't bring yourself to plug the phone into the computer. You felt like you were shackled, and the more you resisted, the harder the shackles dug into your skin - a familiar feeling that made you collapse helplessly into the chair.

"Need help?" the suave mechanical voice was like a nudge or just a key to all the chains for you.

"Meg," you addressed the artificial intelligence, finally plugging the cable into the computer. "Find something," you sobbed raggedly, watching as his phone lit up, announcing that the connection had been successful. "Find something that says he had nothing to do with this."

***

Vito looked at you as if you were mentally unstable. Everyone else had left to celebrate the completion of Hopetown, and you were the only one sitting in the kitchen, in absolute silence and total darkness. No garland was lit. No crickets were chirping. No cold wind rushing in.

Doc probably only told you about it because he knew Rob was Kyle's best friend. He wouldn't have been able to judge impartially, and there was no telling which evil would show its face. A desperate attempt at vindication, or a brutal, agonizing murder. "Eh," Vito sighed, wrapping elastic bandages around his legs. "I was born to drink beer, not this stuff," he glanced at you sneakily. "And why aren't ya at the party?"

"I felt sorry for ya," you joked back.

"Come on," Vito said cheerfully. "I bet next year someone else will get a shift on those dates, and I'll make up for it then."

After waiting for him to lace up his boots and put on his mask, you got up and went to see him off. When you got to the training field, the same point from which every voidrunner departed, Vito nodded, and after telling you to drink a bottle of beer for him, disappeared in a purple flash.

You walked around the place where the man had been a few seconds ago, took a dozen steps toward the forest, and turned around, leaving footprints in the snow. The clammy anticipation of the inevitable made your palms sweat. The clouds of vapor coming out of your mouth were jagged, intermittent, but not from the cold, for all you felt was desolation.

You could feel his presence, but you couldn't sense his thoughts or his moods. You ran a hundred excuses in your head for him, but none of them fit. Your gut shook more and more as he approached. Before the purple flash was even born, you covered your eyes with your hand.

Rob didn't look hurt or tired, only frantically shaking something off his sides with his hands, unaware that there was someone standing ten paces behind him. Someone with obvious motives, someone with courage and no sympathy. Perhaps if he'd paid attention to the fresh footprints, he might have been able to do something about it.

"Relocate."

There was no longer a field beneath your feet - it was a scaffold. One of your hands rested on his shoulder, and the other, clutching the dagger, was between his shoulder blades. The dagger cut the flesh silently, so your conscience was silent, too. It was very quiet. No sobs, no whimpering. Only when you twisted the dagger and pulled it sharply from Rob's heart was there a gurgling wheeze.

The man tried to turn around, but he didn't have time - his legs gave up before he could. He fell to his knees, and only after a few long moments, collapsed face first into the ground.

You'd always loved the sight of blood running down a back - a sure sign that the reaper had gone unnoticed. You watched blankly as the scarlet puddle spread beneath Rob, desecrating the pure white color, and you never realized that this was the first murder you'd ever committed that didn't make your hands tremble.

Your world froze, but everything continued to live without your participation. To the songs of the white wind under the northern sky, winter was sweeping everything away. The ground, the cooling body, the sins of the living and the dead. The only thing left untouched and naked were your bloody hands.

There were two persons in the field. One was the best friend, the father, the husband. The other was the one who took it all away. 

It was a sudden revelation that was never meant to be spoken, and Gojo froze in place, trying not to scare you away. You took it in your own way, though you tried not to think about how badly you might have spoiled his attitude toward you by telling him about your past. It was better to keep your mouth shut as it had been, and though Gojo was sometimes angry at you for it, you'd never felt like he was about to leave for good before. "Rob never had time to figure out who killed him, and Rachel never found out what happened to him," you continued to drown yourself, forgetting your sense of self-preservation. "I just told her that he never came back from the void," you were disturbed to your shaking knees by this uncertainty - Gojo still had his arm around your waist but remained motionless, you couldn't even hear his breathing above your ear. "I used to reassure myself that it was best for her, that she'd never know what he'd done or how much Mike's life really cost, but... I guess those were just pathetic excuses for a coward like me. That's all."  

"Look at me," though there was nothing commanding in his tone, his hand tugged at your waist, forcing you to turn around. "A real coward wouldn't have done anything and let it go, but not you," Gojo said, stroking your cheek soothingly. He would have given anything for you to look at him now, to feel how sincere his words were, but you only squinted your eyes harder. "I killed Megumi's father," he admitted on an exhale, and you opened your eyelids. "I'm not seeking for attention, it's just...," Gojo mumbled embarrassedly, but didn't take his palm away from your face. "It would be fair of me to admit something in return. And... Uh, he doesn't know about it either." 

"How come?" 

"It's just happened," he grinned bitterly. "He had a person to kill and I was just in the way. To be honest, he kicked my ass pretty good, but it was that bastard that made me stronger," Gojo sighed wistfully at the recollection that seemed to have faded into oblivion. "I never got to protect that person, though," he added more quietly. 

"But ya've protected many others."

"Exactly!" he brightened, burying his nose in your cheek. "So do you. Don't ever forget that, 'kay?" you nodded your head weakly, but it was enough for him. If need be, he was willing to repeat it every day, and it didn't matter that there was a chance he'd pester you to the point where you'd ban him from the workroom forever. He could have come in through the window anyway.

The annoying feeling of worrying for someone had long ago turned to trepidation, and when Gojo felt you fidget once more, there was no way he could keep another question inside him. "How long ago did you stop sleeping?" your stunned stupor made him chuckle. "It's not like I'm a blind fool. You said you were gonna sleep in the other room, but when you're home, you don't leave the workroom at all." 

You climbed under the blanket and pressed your forehead against his chest. "Ya've reached your limit of questions for today," you muttered sullenly, pouting your lips.

The only reaction he had to your behavior was tenderness. You may not have remembered it, but he'd seen you asleep once. In this very same spot, on this very same couch, which was illuminated by the light from the TV. He remembered covering a restless you with a blanket and sitting next to you all night, pretending to watch cartoons. "Come here," Gojo whispered softly into the top of your head. "Come here," taking advantage of your lack of comprehension, he rolled over onto his back, wrapped both arms around your waist, and laid you on top of him with enviable ease. His arms closed around you in case you decided to run away, even though he realized that if you wanted to disappear, you would. But you remained motionless, leaning your head against his chest. "Try to get some sleep, 'kay?"   

The song of his heart was fast and feverish, but it wasn't annoying. In the timid embrace of such a rare guest as a dream, you heard another melody, unfamiliar one. The longer this melody was played, the more embrace became tender and stronger, but did an ordinary dream know how to embrace like that? 

Gojo hummed softly to himself, hardly saying any words. It was a muffled melody, and he doubted you could hear it. Either way, you began to fidget less and to raise your head less often, looking around the space with a blurred gaze. "Shh," he hushed quietly as you jumped up once more and gently returned your head back to his chest. "It turns out you're puffing. You knew that?" after all, he had already kissed you once, would it make it worse if he did it again? Gojo didn't remember himself as his lips covered everything they could reach with tender kisses. "My baby," he whispered softly, touching with his lips the spreading black lines on your forehead. "You're so beautiful," he breathlessly babbled nonsense into your blackened hair and smiled foolishly, but his face changed immediately as if someone was trying hard to take you away from him. "I'll always be there for you. I promise."  

You were pushed from side to side as if you weighed nothing, but it wasn't anyone's fault. There were more people in the bar this time, but everyone was still as drunk and happy as ever. When you heard the threatening creak, you unconsciously bounced. An old wooden sign fell where you had just been standing. A cheeky hooting sounded, profanity was heard everywhere, and a bottle smashed against the wall a few feet away. You ducked as if you were in a battlefield and headed for the familiar staircase.

It was still the same fog of cigarette smoke, but it was a lot calmer. Maybe it was the quiet people who gathered here or maybe it was the influence of the sullen-looking bartender. He was still polishing the glasses.

No one was interested in anyone here. When you walked in, not a single head turned in your direction. The people here were happy in their own way, and they didn't care about anyone else. "Sunshine!" a joyful, familiar voice called out to you.

When you looked over, you saw Kyle sitting at a round table. He had a glass of light beer in front of him, and judging by his blissful look, it wasn't his first glass. He was surrounded by painfully familiar faces, but that pain carried with it only surprise. Vito was slyly pouring more alcohol into Kyle's glass, and your brother's shoulder was gripped tightly by a man's hand. Rob sat next to him, encouraging them both.

"Hey guys," you smiled, taking a seat across from them.

"Hey! Why ya sitting so far away?" whined Kyle drunkenly, holding out his arms to you. "Come here!" you looked at this picture through your fingers. Shifting your gaze to Rob, you saw him raise his eyebrows guiltily.  

"I see ya two are best friends again?" you asked snidely, pulling Kyle's beer glass to you. Kyle was drunk, but he was able to focus and send you a questioning look, even though you thought his eyes were about to drift apart.

"All right, lad, let's go bring ya to your senses," Vito announced businesslike, lifting Kyle by the shoulders in one jerk.

"Oh my," you said meaningfully, watching as Vito dragged Kyle's collapsed body on his back. "It's not even a day later, and he's already on a roll."

"He's been looking out for ya all his life," Rob reminded you, laughing. "He's long overdue for a rest," he sighed as the door to the restroom slammed shut behind the men. An awkward silence hung. You had a lot to say to each other, and only one of you needed the courage to start. "Ya mad?" asked Rob quietly, looking into your eyes.

"No," you replied simply, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. "I'm not."

"Ya didn't tell him?" he nodded his head in the direction of the restroom.

"Kyle's not stupid. I think he figured it all out on his own."

"I just...," he began tentatively, and all his movements seemed awkward, embarrassed. Rob scratched the back of his head thoughtfully before continuing. "I just want ya to know. I don't regret anything."

"Yep," you chirped, sipping from Kyle's glass and immediately grimaced. You sighed heavily, wanting as soon as possible to say goodbye forever to the feeling that made your soul clench into a helpless lump. "Me too."

"That's your style," Rob laughed and immediately relaxed. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "How's... How's my baby boy?"

"Mike is fine. He's nothing like ya," you stated, wrinkling your nose. "Not in looks, not in personality."

"It's for the best," he said, raising his glass as if his words were a toast. Taking a sip from the glass, Rob set it back on the table with a thud. "And how's my wife?"

"She is okay," you lied, shrugging indifferently. "Ya know her. She can handle anything."

"Oh yeah," he drawled meaningfully, stretching and putting his hands on the back of his head. "I never thanked ya," he started laughing softly again, and you realized what he was getting at.

"Kyle brought ya two together, not me," you tried unsuccessfully to remind him, but Rob was already flying in his memories.

"He just gave me her number and some idiotic advice," he waved it off carelessly. "And ya," he literally jabbed his finger at you. "Ya're the one who told me to bring a bouquet of garlic bread and dried squid instead of flowers on our first date," you clucked your tongue and involuntarily hid half your face in your palms, hoping he'd get your sign and not continue. "And how she chased it all with beer, mmm," he thought blissfully, closing his eyes. "I was all gone," he chuckled again. "Here comes our drunk," he announced, nodding toward a sobered Kyle.

He looked like he was being dragged to trial. His face was still wet and red, and he clutched his clenched hands to his chest with all his might. "I'm sorry," he said quietly to you, sitting down next to you. "I forgot myself a little," he stared guiltily at the table, not daring to look you in the eye.

"You deserve it," you reminded him, shoving him gently with your shoulder. Suddenly, on cue, a thought popped into your head as if your mind was a jewelry box and someone had just put a piece of jewelry in there. "By the way, Kyle," you chirped, reaching into your pocket with your hand. You didn't take it with you, you didn't even think about it, so why did you have it? "Ya left something," you said, holding out a silver bracelet to him.

"Oh shit!" worried Kyle, taking the jewelry from your hands and placing it on his wrist. "I thought it was gone forever..."

"Don't lose it anymore," you jokingly chastised him.

"Thank ya," he wrapped his arms around you and began kissing your face, and you wrinkled unhappily at the touch of wet black strands against your skin.

When he was done with his affection, you unceremoniously pushed the beer glass away from him. You decided to stay out of the men's conversations and musings - they'd been gone too long already. You'd heard stories about their first dates, their first fights, and there seemed to be some generational difference between Vito, Kyle and Rob.

Kyle wouldn't be himself if he hadn't noticed your state of mind even in the midst of a cheerful conversation. He could see your desperate gaze circling the bar, searching for someone. "Sunshine...," he began, taking your hand. "I'm sorry, but she's not coming tonight."

"I thought so."

You're just now noticing that there's been music playing in the bar the whole time. Quiet, but energetic. You only realized this because your brother looked playfully into your eyes. "Shall we dance?"

"Kyle, I can't dance," you protested weakly, flinching away.

"Just a twitch, then," he chuckled, taking you under the arm and pulling you from the table.

There wasn't a single person here dancing. Maybe they didn't know it was allowed or maybe they just didn't want to. Either way, no one paid any attention to you. Everything merged in your clumsy movements, and did so tightly that it ceased to exist at all. You forgot what happened yesterday and didn't know what would happen tomorrow, the only thing that mattered to you now was Kyle dancing and laughing right in front of you. He was alive and whole, and no one tore him apart. He still loved and supported you even when you failed.

The two of you, panting and red, Kyle from the exertion and you from the embarrassment, didn't notice as the bar began to empty. People lingered here for a long time, but they left quickly one by one, and now there were empty tables all around you. "Okay, that's it," he put his arm around your shoulders, trying to catch his breath. Kyle saw Rob and Vito already getting ready, slipping their jackets over their shoulders. "Sunshine," he whispered, looking into your eyes confused. "I'm sorry. But we really have to go."

"It's okay," you cheered him up. "I understand everything. Go."

He pulled you hard against him, but at this point, you couldn't feel how much love he actually put into it. "See ya," Kyle whispered into the top of your head, and he could barely pull away from you as if every inch between you was causing him a tremendous amount of pain.

"See ya," you said after him.

The same bartender was still sullenly going about his work as if he had an endless supply of dirty glasses under the bar. When all the door bells rang out, you looked around and realized you were alone in that corner bar again.

The crackle of burning wood in the fireplace and the smell of smoldering timber brought calmness, one of the few states of mind available to them. Not discerning day or night, sun or moon, love or hate, but only pretending to know everything around them, these creatures sat in corners, in shadows, trying to sort out their own affairs. "It's time to stir up the hornet's nest."

Rei reluctantly raised his head. "Hm?" he lazily uttered, examining the ceiling of the room as if the person speaking was sitting there. "If you meant kill them all, there's a different expression for that. You should be around people more often," Rei stuck back into the fashion magazine and slid the whiskey glass closer to him.

"Who has access to the repository with the artifact?" the creature asked, ignoring the barbed remarks.  

"Frank and his kids," Rei replied nonchalantly, admiring the model's sultry skin on one of the pages. He ran his finger across the page. Why instead of a soft smooth texture he didn't feel even a pitiful semblance?

"How fortunate you killed the lad," the creature hissed

"Do I hear sarcasm in your voice?" grinned Ray, looking up again. "Oh, come on," he laughed, grabbing a glass of whiskey, the ice rattling as if it were afraid. "You're the one who advised me to watch out for the redheaded girl. We didn't need the lad. He just got in the way."

"Any luck finding anything out?"

"Nope," Rei muttered, pouting his lips demonstratively. "Her only weaknesses are alcohol and sex. I like her, by the way," a smile slowly formed on his face, and he turned back to the model. Rather, to her sultry skin.

"You can't be entrusted with anything at all," the creature disappointed, and the glass the demon clutched in his hand crackled. The thin glass shattered into hundreds of small shards, but never broke. "We need someone with powers of observation."

Taking a couple deep breaths, Rei came to his senses. "Stop underestimating me. Even if we did have it, the town is protected by relics," he said irritably, carefully setting the glass aside. "They only protect it from demons and dark energy, though. No one said anything about the rest," the indignation was replaced by a mad chuckle so quiet and short it could penetrate anywhere. Under the skin, under the bones, into the heart.

"Is there someone in mind?"

"Yeah, kinda," Rei chirped, wiggling his leg flirtatiously. Maybe he should have done it for nothing because every movement of that body created an rage in him that he couldn't get rid of. The more he spat it out, the harder he let it out, the more it came back to him. There was only one thing that could do it all.

"You're still not happy about something."  

"Give me one good reason why I should stay in this body or I'll change it immediately," he bellowed, tugging on a shirt that was twice his size.

"Have you tried working out?" the voice suggested sincerely and courteously. "They say it builds muscle."

"Why don't I start eating fucking porridge in the morning too?" Rei clenched his teeth in anger, pitching forward.

"You can't change your body right now," the creature warned. The glass, already battered and hitherto standing peaceful on the table, burst. "Your date hasn't happened yet. She needs to see this," there was a huge upside to each creature seeing and hearing what the other creature saw and heard. At least, if it wasn't hiding. Rei moaned quietly, pitifully in pleasure as he saw your image through the prism of the one who spoke to him. "Calm down. It'll be a while yet, but until then... You need to stay in this body. If you hate it so much... I think you could change it a bit."

"That's right," he said cheerfully, taking off his glasses and breaking them in half. Only one small detail remained. Grabbing the shears from the table and going to the mirror, Rei cut off a long black braid in one motion.

next ⊳

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[lady-phasma]

Do you believe Aemond is a Valyrian Supremacist? He models Daemon so much in his focus on Valyrian history, dragons, Targaryen blood etc, that to me I feel as though he must to some extent believe Targaryen's to be superior? I see alot of people defending him on the basis he isn't, but... I just don't see why Aemond of all characters wouldn't have feelings of superiority based on his blood? Extending from that, do you think he would have preferred to wed a Targaryen woman? We get a glimpse he feels that way from the TV show, but in the circumstances he had another sister instead of Helaena, surely he would have been betrothed to her/wanted to be? I just truly cannot see him as being free of "bigotry" in regards to seeing non- Valyrians as below him. Like? Isn't that the point of him hating Rhaneyra's sons? Because they are bastards from a lower House?

This is a really great ask, anon. Thank you for asking me. But of course, you asked me, so it’s no surprise that I will give a very me answer.

First, I really dislike having that phrase Valyrian Supremacist on my blog. I only have it one other time that I can remember and that was also an ask. Briefly, I’ll tell you why: it is a 20th-21st century Earth term that may not have been present in Westeros. If we are discussing in-universe theory and not literary/film theory then I choose to avoid it.

This may get long but I want to be as clear as possible: I only slightly agree with you. If we grant the premise, that he models parts of his personality after Daemon (which is a difficulty premise to grant in its entirety), then I would say that his Targaryen side would value that heritage to a degree. However, he cares deeply for his entire family and that includes the Hightowers. His last name is Targaryen, but let’s not forget he is also a Hightower. I think great houses/names are very important to royalty in Westeros, Aemond included. Hightowers are certainly not lowborn.

Trying to go in the same order as your questions, I would say next that all descendants of Valyria may feel superior because of history and dragon lore. I can never overlook House Velaryon in these discussions. They also have immense pride in their heritage and name. However, when you say “Aemond of all characters” I wonder exactly why he stands out as someone for whom this pride seems more important. If we examine his actions in season one and in the book, I think we can see that his character is no more or less concerned with it than the average character.

If he were more concerned with Targaryen blood and that pride fueled his decisions, what would that say about Alys Rivers? I think most fans who haven’t read the book know a little about her, but for those who don’t she was a bastard Aemond took as a “war bride.” Regardless of whether or not she bewitched him, we can’t talk about his life as a whole without mentioning her and their relationship. If she did, we aren't told at exactly what point that happened. He wasn't above sex with non-Targaryens.

Since it was first uttered, I have been obsessed with his line “I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” Leo Ashton delivered it with such sincerity and commitment that it is hard to argue against Aemond’s devotion to his family (not discussing any specific romantic ships here). As we know, royalty and aristocracy in Westeros get very little choice in who they wed. The hypothetical “if he had another sister” is interesting because that marriage would, ultimately, be decided by Viserys and Alicent.

Such a betrothal would have been seen as a duty and honorable, so I have no doubt that Aemond would have agreed. I don’t know that anyone would disagree that Aemond puts his family above everything else. Thus, I have yet to see in the series direct bigotry from him. Factually, with no nuance, the issue with Rhaneyra’s sons is illegitimacy. Every character may have a different interpretation as to how this effects the line of succession and only a few state it explicitly in the series. I would argue that Aemond doesn’t care that their father isn’t Laenor Velaryon when he first calls them bastards. Children at that age might not really comprehend the ramifications of that accusation (I think we see clearly that Aegon doesn’t). Aemond first dislikes his nephews because they were cruel to him. Yes, his brother was as well. The Pink Dread was seemingly almost entirely Aegon’s idea, but siblings often forgive each other more readily than they may forgive outsiders.

In Fire & Blood we get a clear picture of how much his animosity and resentment fuel his actions:

One by one, every man and boy with Strong blood in his veins was dragged forth and put to death, until the heap made of their heads stood three feet tall.

I do not think this action was about bloodlines or heritage. I believe this was entirely revenge. By this point in the Dance, Aemond is furious and nearly crazed by his need to avenge the wrongs done to his family. I don’t think it was an attempt to annihilate the Strong bloodline, but a show of force and power. Aemond is formidable, rash, and still young enough to not care about consequences. Perhaps you have noticed I skipped over the direct slight against him. Lucerys altered Aemond’s life irrevocably. Had this same mutilation happened to a low born boy, he would have had no future at all in Westeros. Aemond’s lifestyle was only salvaged because he is royalty and through determination of will.

Would the loss of an eye, the murder of one’s young nephew (Prince Jaehaerys), and the maiming of one’s brother cause a young prince to go nearly mad with rage and the need for revenge? I believe so. By this point in the Dance, further along than I think you asked about, Targaryen heritage is probably the last thing on Aemond’s mind. I have no doubt that he was raised to believe that dragons, the throne, and many other things make Targaryens better. But we should never discount his mother’s influence. This man loves her dearly and Alicent may provide some balance in his understanding of things. My headcanon about his religion (not particularly relevant here) comes from the canon that Alicent has a strong faith in the Seven. I think this has a deep effect on Aemond and could influence whether or not Targaryen blood is paramount to him.

Lastly, I wanted to address this statement:

I see a lot of people defending him on the basis he isn’t

I assume that you use “defending” in the sense that these fans attempt to separate him as somehow immune to this pride or better than other Targaryens. I don’t know that I have read exactly the defenses you’re referencing, but I will be clear: this is not a discussion of fanfiction. If that is an element of a work of fanfiction, then by all means, go for it. It doesn’t seem plausible, however, that anyone of Valyrian descent is immune to this type of indoctrination.

#I seriously love this type of ask #asked and answered #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #dance of the dragons #dance of the dragons spoilers #fire and blood #Aemond #aemond one eye

[nickel156]

"In HOFAS Bryce asks Azriel if he has a mate. He says no. She asks if he's in a relationship, again no. He was kinda pissy about it.

So no, Elain and Azriel are not sneaking around. There's no romance in Az's life."

And if they were... Azriel would've told Bryce everything about it, right?

You make a semi fair point.

However I did my due diligence and went back to HOFAS and inserted the BC where it seemed fitting.

And since this moment. Azriel hasn't lied to Bryce.

Also Nesta, to his annoyance. Was telling Bryce everything.

What purpose did he have to lie in this moment? They were trying to "get to know" each other.

It's not as if Nesta would run to Rhysand if she thought they were a thing.

If he had lied, Nesta would definitely have called him out on it. Because she's not very good at keeping her mouth shut.

Here, you can see they're actively trying to get to know one another "bonding" if you will

Again, what purpose does lying serve here?

And it's truly hilarious to think that they could even hide their relationship from a MIND READER

Who is defending checking on Azriel after the acosf BC, to make sure he's following a direct order.

Because he's trying to keep his alliances.

So I'll use context and my citation to take Azriel at his word.

And you can THEORIZE that he's lying.

Xoxo

#elucien supremacy #elucien #i'm not delusional. you're delusional #pro lucien vanserra #pro gwynriel #anti e/riel #azriel x gwyn

[slashthrashandcrash]

Ohhhhhh I'm so obsessed with daddy!Ghosty and his daughter! Imagine what would happen if Ramona was send to the fog but as survivor ahhhhh!!! The chaos!!!

What I love about this is that there's two scenarios for this:

A) Ramona is 18 (as per BHVR), meaning it's been at least 10 years in her time since she's seen her dad. As a teen, she probably just accepted the reality that he was a deadbeat and had finally abandoned her for good, maybe holding resentment towards him in her broken heart, or maybe tricking herself into believing something awful must have happened to him because no way would her daddy ever leave her forever. Now she's in this strange new world, confused, terrified as she's hunted for sport by a slew of monsters and killers, including the elusive Ghostface.

He'd be the first one to recognize she's his daughter before she ever realizes this masked psychopath is her long lost dad. But now, there's an even further parental disconnect for him -- this isn't his baby girl anymore, she's all grown up, she's just another teenager with a pretty face, he's missed out on more than half her life at this point. They may as well be strangers. Yet, as little as he seems to care about her getting hurt during trials, he never finishes her off. The knowledge that other killers are brutalizing her doesn't bother him, but as soon as one of them makes a direct mention about it he loses his mind.

He avoids her like the plague yet continually stalks her from afar to learn every little missed detail about her. Kicks medkits towards her when she's down, chases her through maps to ever so conveniently corral her towards the hatch exit, just happens to drop rare perks in passing for her to pick up. As long as he can help it, he'll never reveal the fact that he's her father. It wouldn't do either of them any good. It's just as much for her protection as it is to keep his dirty little secret, but that doesn't mean others aren't going to start getting suspicious of his apparently "favoritism", killers and survivors alike...

B) Ramona is 8 and is the one and only child to be taken by the fog (excluding Victor). That complicates so much right off the bat. There's not really such a thing as a killer having morals, but there's more than a few who would be hesitant or downright refuse to kill a kid...just as much as there are killers who wouldn't care. No one is happy about this, it seems too far, too cruel of the Entity. It must be a mistake. The survivors are beyond protective of her, always ensuring she's the first one out regardless if it means the rest of them get slaughtered.

But the real kicker is when Ghostface finally comes across her, either during a trial or because he wanted to scope out this new rumor of a child survivor. He can't contain his shock, the way he uncharacteristically freezes and says her name is disbelief. What is his baby doing here, she shouldn't be here?? Yeah, he's not a great dad, but Christ he likes to think he's a good enough father to not want his child in a murderous pocket dimension. The second she hears his voice though, she's all over him. That's her daddy! Her daddy is here, he knows how to make everything better!!

Now that's when the real chaos begins. Ghostface has a daughter?? Ghostface has a daughter that loves him??? Ghostface has a daughter and is actually pretty decent with her???? Everyone on both teams are blindsided by this news, it's like ten bombshells just got dropped on them at once when they had barely recovered from the first one. Everyone has so many questions and he's not answering a single fucking one, thank you. This is like the ultimate cosmic karma; after 8 years of being a semi-absent dad, now he's very much being forced to be an active parent. Except he's still going to pawn her off to the survivor group more often than not. At least he's...there?

Definitely more protective of her, doesn't mind showing the same affection he's always given her, and as a result there's at least a handful of killers who are soft on her too (Legion and Pig, for example). Kinda hard to hide the fact that he's a bloodthirsty serial killer and has been her whole life, especially since 8yos aren't dumb and survivors love to shit talk, so he omits or bends the truth as much as he can so that she doesn't lose that idolized image of him. It's just a game, it's not real, see, daddy even makes sure she wins every time, if he doesn't play right then more bad things will happen and she surely doesn't want that, right?

#ask #utaxnanami

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 4 - A conversation behind bars

I'm quickly learning that dialogue is a massive pain in the ass and makes this process a gazillion times longer. Also thank you to the small handful of you who have acknowledged my existence and are reading this <3

Walking into a Cairo prison was not how you thought you'd be starting off your afternoon.

When your cousin told you he'd found a guy, he absolutely failed to mention that the man in question had been incarcerated for the past five months for what he claimed was a bit of 'disorderly conduct'. And by that what he really meant was for beating the ever living shit out of some bloke to the point of permanently crippling him.

You ignored the greasy smiles and uncouth jeers as you passed by the other inmates, the weight of Kyle's arm around your shoulders keeping you close a welcome security blanket. Guards banged on the cells to silence their rude remarks, you trying to keep your cool despite your obvious nerves as you were led deeper into the facility.

You didn't understand why your cousin was walking with lighter steps. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was no stranger to dealing with dangerous men. Maybe it was simple patriarchal ignorance considering he wasn't the one the comments were being directed at (though he was certainly pretty enough for them you thought to yourself). He was on edge and alert, sure, but it felt more like he was eager for what lay ahead instead of the cautiousness you yourself displayed.

You got your answer when you came to a halt outside a heavy gate, an open air courtyard lay beyond full of all sorts of wirey types of folk. You and Kyle had to be the cleanest people in there as your gaze swept over the group, most coated in a layer of grimy sand and sweat. The guard who had been escorting you through the prison shouted something in Arabic that caught the attention of some of the others standing around, the crowd turning to look towards a singular point near the back of the group as a figure stood up from his spot at a table and made his way over to your location.

He easily stood apart from the rest of the people here, not just because it was clear by his facial features and skin tone that he wasn't a native to these parts, but also just by the way he carried himself. His clothes were ragged same as everyone else inside the cage, but there was a stockiness to his build and a purely male arrogance to his walk. He looked rough from all the time spent in imprisonment; filthy dry skin, hair wildly uneven with oily strands slicked back from his face, a dark messy beard grown quite bushy. Everything about him screamed scoundrel. Hardly seemed the type you should be asking for assistance from.

It didn't escape your notice that as he approached the bars there were a handful of inmates that gave him a wide berth. If this was the type of man that made others like him give pause then who the hell knew what he was capable of.

Apparently your cousin, given the lazy wave being sent his way much to your complete and utter confusion. Your brows furrowed as you glanced between the two of them. Why such familiarity?

Kyle just gives him a shit eating grin leaning against the bars and says, "Hope you didn't have to bend over for anyone in there."

"Nah. They said my mouth's prettier than my arse anyways."

Scottish - definitely not an accent you're used to hearing. And just as vulgar as his appearance would suggest, even if your cousin technically encouraged it first with his own remark. It ruffled your skirts the same way his appearance did as he approached and stood only a foot away from the gate, taking an instinctual step back only to be halted by a gentle but firm hand on your lower back by Kyle.

"Dolly," he began, gesturing towards the figure in question, "allow me to introduce you to an old comrade of mine, John MacTavish. John, meet my cousin, dolly."

You had enough manners to politely correct the man with your actual name rather than the fond nickname you're cousin had been referring to you with. He must've recognized yours the same as you had his going by the way his eyebrow quirked up with interest.

"Aye, ah ken who ya are, hen." There's a twinkle of a hidden joke somewhere in those baby blues. "Heard many a tale about ye from this fella 'ere. Yer picture doesnae do ya justice."

It slightly surprises you that he's seen your face before, but it makes sense given the small snapshot you'd sent along with Kyle before his first real foray out into combat. It warms something inside of you that he'd shared the photo with some of the lads he served with.

"So," he crosses his arms over his chest as he returns his attention back to his old teammate. "Are ye here to give me mah sponge bath or did ya just miss seeing mah ugly mug too much and decided to pop by fer a wee chat?"

Kyle shrugs off his crude comments with an ease that speaks of how common this sort of behavior must be from the man. Going off the tales you'd been told over the years you were sure he was well versed in dealing with his particular brand of behavior. "How's about I'm calling in a favor for all those times spent digging you out of the mud. You still the same man who'd charge headlong with me into the trenches?"

"As long as ah get tae be the one who jumps in first."

"Even if that leads us into the lost city of Hamunuptra?"

Whatever he thought Kyle was going to say was obviously not that, his turn to look confused as a dark shadow replaced the excited gleam in his eyes. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure we were the closest to being alone as we could get in a place like this, he leaned into our space even more as the metal bars would allow, his voice dropping down into something more hushed as his expression hardened.

"Whaddya doin' in a place like that, Garrick? 'S not somewhere ye take civilized company like the lass here, that's fer damn sure."

"We just want to know if it's real." You speak up for the first time in the conversation, two pairs of eyes suddenly focusing on you with rapt attention that you struggle not to waver under. "We're not looking for trouble. Only the chance to gather as much information as we can about the city's existence."

"It's real, hen. Just take my word on that and leave it be."

Something in you tugs at his refusal, the same feeling as being talked down to by both your parents and Dr. Price emboldens you in a way you normally aren't. Not that it's reflected in your outward stature unfortunately.

"I'm not blind to it's fabled history, Mr. MacTavish, but I'm not one for the paranormal either. Take us there long enough for me to know my head isn't just filled with silly notions and storybooks and I'll be satisfied... please."

He considers you for a long moment with eyes more intelligent than his current looks would give him credit for, searching for something in your soul he must find before turning his gaze back to Kyle with a resigned sigh.

"I'll not be goin' much of anywhere with these bloody chains around mah wrists. Unless ya have the patience to hold off on this little expedition 'til ah'm good and free."

"Depends. How much longer you stuck in here?"

"Longer than ah deserve tae be."

Maybe your cousin had rubbed off on you a bit too much over the years. Maybe the well cultivated mind that lost itself quite easily in books of long forgotten kingdoms was just turning it's gears wanting to solve a puzzle other than education for a change. Or maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that just because you aren't as worldly as your two companions that you weren't just some useless thing.

You hold up your palm to them as you glanced around the area, spying one of the guards lingering far enough away to give you a modicum of privacy while forming an idea in your head. Biting your lip nervously, you smoothed out the lines in your garments before you turned and strolled over to the man, hands folded petitely in front of you as you plastered on the most doe-eyed genteel smile that your mother had ingrained in you since you were old enough to begin taking etiquette lessons.

It only took a few demure flutters of your lashes and a well placed touch on his bicep for the guard to lead you away from the caged in courtyard and down a series of hallways, flashing the guys a nervous but reassuring smile that kept Kyle in his place instead of running along after you, having been granted an audience with the warden of the prison.

You tried your best to remain steady on your feet as you were shuffled along to a small office near the back of the compound, very aware you were currently alone with considerably questionable men as you quietly took a deep breath to calm your racing heart. This was the second time today you were about to undergo something well outside your wheelhouse all for the chance to do something incredibly reckless that may or may not even be worth it. With a knock on the door and a beckoning 'enter', you stepped inside the cramped but well lit room to try and barter for a stranger's freedom.

You'd returned a short while later, interrupting whatever hushed conversation they appeared to be engrossed in and looking far more at ease than you left them. Before either one had a chance to open their mouths at your arrival, the warden you'd previously been speaking with was barking out a command in Arabic to some of the guards nearby. For a moment, John began to struggle as two pairs of hands wrapped themselves around his arms, practically growling in objection to being manhandled before the warden spoke up again with a mocking sneer, halting his movements.

"Escort our friend here back to his cell until further notice. Apparently, Scotsman, lady luck is on your side this day."

Once the slimy man retreated out of view, you let out the breath you'd been holding since you began this charade, a hand over your heart and another resting on your cousin's shoulder to help ground yourself. How you got away with that was beyond your comprehension and certainly not something you'd like to repeat again.

"And just what do you call that, dolly?" Kyle inquires with a bemused grin as a slightly befuddled John is lead away by his jailers, glancing over his shoulder at the two of you as he tries to work out whatever mischief you did that managed to get him an early release.

"I call that a proper utilization of my upbringing." You respond with a pleasantly surprised and satisfied smile, catching eyes with your future travel companion and dropping into the most perfectly executed curtsey before turning on your heels to walk back out the way you came, missing the look you're given in return by a man who finally saw a glimpse of the clever lass he'd always heard so much about.

[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

#soap x reader #mummy au #john soap mactavish #cod #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #*sighs as she goes to edit the header at the top of her profile page* #godihatethiswebsite #highland games #name your price #prettiest boy #spooky scary skeleton #kyle garrick #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish

[ingravinoveritas]

cloud-based-and-rainpilled replied to your post "So...I'm a little bit behind, with this being…"

@ingravinoveritas Not to go full conspiracy mode (as she goes full conspiracy mode,) but methinks Anna & Georgia’s recent underhanded critiques are directly related to resentment from David & Michael hanging out for the past 4-5 months

@cloud-based-and-rainpilled I don't think it's a conspiracy when it's now visibly, demonstrably noticeable to multiple people. It's been amazing to me to see people talk about how much things have changed recently in terms of the fandom and the discussions that are happening, but somehow not make the connection to what else has been going on the last six months (because I think it was November when Michael first relocated to London, for Nye rehearsals).

None of this was happening when Michael was still in Wales. Georgia and AL's social media posts were completely different and nothing like what we've seen since Michael and David have been together in person. Not just together in person, either...but neighbors. Who could now see each other at their leisure. And all I have thought is that not one of the four of them were prepared for what it would be like when Michael and David would be in close physical proximity.

I'm just hard-pressed to think of any other reason why the passive-aggressiveness from both Georgia and Anna has ramped up so much, especially over the last months (and which is reflected in the change in tenor of their Insta stories/posts and the seeming abandonment of the whole "wife" thing). It does raise the question as well of why either Georgia or AL would feel such resentment. Michael and David are best friends, as we know, and the supposed narrative is that Georgia and AL are also "besties" and that they're all one big happy polycule...so if that is the case, why would Georgia and AL be making these comments, especially if said comments are related to Michael and David spending so much time together?

It just seems like there is something that doesn't add up, or that there is a piece of this that is missing. And I'm fascinated to see that a lot of people seem to be noticing it now, in and outside of the fandom. I'd love to hear from folks with your thoughts as well...

#cloud-based-and-rainpilled #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #georgia tennant #it is puzzling to me that everything with them gets written off as a joke #because at some point there are things that stop being funny #there really seems to be a direct line from Michael being in London to what we are seeing now #the parallels are paralleling #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #relationships #anna lundberg #thoughts #discourse

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR KEVIN PHILLIPS

#tragically had to skip the 'are you afraid of me' exchange i love at the start bc. this scene is Long #super dark times #josh templeton #zach taylor #sam edits #btw i'm firmly in the 'Josh didn't kill John' camp. bc to me THIS scene is the point that... makes the most sense as Josh's breaking point/ #'villain turn' if that's what you'd want to call it. because this is really when Josh... sort of 'officially' loses Zach. from early on in #the movie it becomes clear how much Zach is like... an anchor for him—the way Josh is just fucking *chanting* his name in distress during #the Daryl accident. The way Josh begs Zach to believe him that it was an accident. The way Josh turns to Zach for answers/clarity/direction #Like even if we want to take a cynical approach and think of it as Josh just latching onto Zach in the Daryl situation because he was There #rather than that being an established thing w/ them... in the aftermath of that same incident Josh is still looking to/depending on him! #Josh self isolates at first... but after they talk & Zach tells him they shouldn't act weird Josh goes back to school. (yes #he lashes out there because He's Dealing With The Crushing Guilt but *all* of 'em are acting off then—Charlie specifically calls attention #to the idea they all probably are) Josh goes to the party just like Zach said they should and is *visibly confused* when Zach seems mad to #see him there. He goes to Zach's house to talk and you can SEE how caught off guard he is by what Zach says. Even though the script version #of this scene is VERY different from the final version I do think this one bit of description from it is... insightful: 'Josh seems sincere #almost vulnerable. But Zach is too focused to see it.' LIKE in this scene Zach is already convinced Josh has lost it! He's trying to act #more neutral about it (claiming they could just 'draw a line') but we saw his phone call with Charlie. Because of his own guilt-fueled #paranoia—something shown pretty clearly through the assorted dream sequences and like tht scene of him walking in the hall hearing people #gossip about Daryl—it seems like everything lines up too well! that '*of course* it's Josh and what if it's *been* Josh all along and well #then the role *I* played in the situation really isn't *my* fault because it was all *Josh* and...' etc. even if that's more subconscious #But like... this scene is really when it hits Josh! from the moment he asks if Zach's afraid of him now like... there's a shift. although #Zach says he isn't... i mean he fucking stumbles on the word 'afraid' (like... he hangs on the 'f' sound a moment too long to sound natural #its very subtle but like Noticeable). But Josh sees right through him. Zach doesn't trust him anymore. Zach thinks he's the bad guy. the #monster. Josh feeling like he lost the last person he had in his corner feels like the most realistic thing to... push him over the #edge. like that's a compelling tragedy to me—the idea that these two poorly coping with the Daryl situation in these separated ways where #they *aren't* talking/communicating ends up CREATING the feedback loop that makes everything get worse and worse. #But for that to be the case... it wouldn't make sense for Josh to have just randomly killed John before this scene. I think it's a more #interesting story if certain things really ARE just coincidences but it's that Zach's paranoia won't let him see that 🤷