#i can and will draw more for this however i am exhausted after 2 nightmare shifts

[potionsprefect]

Time Away

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 2k

Summary: After the attack, Victoria heads back to New York

Rating: Teen

Category: Angst, Fluff

The flight was very quick, probably not the most environmentally friendly way to travel back home but Victoria didn’t care at this particular moment. She needed to see her family, however quickly she could get to New York was important.

Victoria grabbed her bag and headed into the arrivals lounge. She scanned the room looking for two familiar faces. Victoria spotted them smiling at her and she rushed over to them.

She wrapped her arms around her Mom, tears rolling down her face. Her warmth felt so familiar, she would never be too old for a hug from her Mom.

“You okay?” Jane asked.

Victoria smiled. “I am now.”

Jane pressed a kiss to the side of Victoria’s head, tears shining brightly in her own eyes as she gave her daughter one last hug.

“Hey kiddo.” Michael smiled as he hugged Victoria. She held on a little longer than usual, the new norm now given what she had been through. “How was your flight?”

“Ok.” Victoria replied.

Jane and Michael looked at Victoria with concern. They always got more out of Victoria. The one word answer made them anxious.

Not wanting to press further, they nodded and headed to the car. It was a quick journey home, Victoria didn’t talk much and kept her eyes looking out the window but glanced away to look at her phone. A small smile lit up on her face when she saw Ethan had text her.

She wished he was with her. Holding her hand, proving a gentle comfort to her. Instead there was miles between them, with only FaceTime to use.

The car pulled into the driveway in Westchester and Victoria climbed out.

“I’ve made you your favourite dinner.” Jane said as they headed into the house.

“Burgers?” Victoria laughed.

“With extra gherkins. Just how you like it.” Jane smiled.

“Your brother and sister will be coming over tomorrow. They got the day off work.” Michael said.

“And the kids?”

“Them too. They can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither. I’m just gonna call Ethan and then I’ll come and eat dinner.” Victoria said. She headed into the living room and pressed dial on her phone.

“Glad to hear you got to New York ok.” Ethan said when he answered.

“It feels weird being here. I wish you were with me.” Victoria sighed.

“I know you do. I wish that too. I think the time at home will do you good. And we can talk everyday, whenever you want.” Ethan smiled.

“Thank you. I better go. Mom has made dinner.”

“Alright? Do you want to talk before you go to sleep?”

“No, I’ll be okay I promise. I love you.” Victoria replied.

“I love you too.”

The call ended and Victoria sighed. These few weeks we’re gonna be tough without him. Victoria wasn’t sure she could make it.

The next day was emotionally exhausting for Victoria. She appreciated her family all showing their support but all she wanted to do was get into bed and pull the duvet over her, shut out the rest of the world until she felt like saying hello again.

She tried to make small talk but everyone could see she wasn’t in the mood for talking. She had appreciated her niece and nephew giving her lots of cuddles, they definitely made her feel better.

She was now laying on her bed, having opted for an early night. Although Victoria wasn’t asleep, her brain unwilling to switch off, nightmares swimming around in her head. She glanced at the clock on her bedside cabinet. 2:56am.

Everything over the last few weeks has been playing on her mind. She felt guilty being back home, everyone in Boston was still grieving and here she was, hiding away in her childhood home from everyone who cared.

Am I being selfish? Should I be with everyone? What must everyone think of me?

A strangled cry left her throat, Victoria tried her best to suppress it but it was no use. One tear rolled down after another until she was a sobbing mess on her bed. She clutched her childhood teddy, trying to draw some comfort from it but it was no use.

She was broken, and she needed help. And help came in one particular tall form.

She missed him so much. She needed him here. Laying beside her, he would help her with all her worries. Victoria grabbed her phone. Would he be awake? Was he thinking of her in the same way she was thinking of him?

Victoria found his name in her phone and dialled the number. It didn’t take long for him to pick up.

“Victoria?” Ethan’s voice, groggy from sleep said.

“Ethan? I’m sorry if I woke you. I just needed to hear your voice.” Victoria trembled.

“It’s okay. Take a deep breath. I wasn’t really asleep. What’s wrong?” Ethan asked.

“I can’t do this. I miss you so much. I thought I’d be okay. That I’d have my family around me to help me. But all I want is you. Your warmth and comfort. I had a nightmare. ” Victoria began to cry again.

“Oh Vic.” Ethan sighed. “I’m so sorry. I should be there with you.”

“No it’s okay. You need to work. I should’ve called earlier yesterday evening. I’ll be okay as long as we can do that.”

“Of course we can. You don’t have to ask. You can call me whenever. You know that. Try and get some sleep and call me tomorrow.” Ethan said.

“Okay. As long as you’re not busy at work.” Victoria said.

“Victoria that’s not a problem. When you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Okay. I’ll try and get some sleep now.” Victoria said.

“I love you so much. Just know that.”

Victoria smiled. “I love you too. Thank you for being there for me.”

“Always.” Ethan said before the call ended.

Victoria put her phone down and tried to close her eyes, she pictured happy thoughts, of the upcoming future she would now have with Ethan. How they could finally be a couple out in the world for everyone to see. They were each others forever now.

Victoria figured she must’ve fallen asleep for a bit as the clock now said 4:19am. She couldn’t go back to sleep so she got up and put her dressing gown. Just as she secured it, her phone buzzed. It was Ethan.

Come outside.

Victoria furrowed her eyebrows. What did he mean? She got up and headed downstairs, pulling the curtain back.

She was sure her eyes were deceiving her because out the window, a figure was stood by his car. And he looked suspiciously like Ethan.

Victoria hurried to the front door and flung it open. Her eyes weren’t deceiving her. There was Ethan. Messy hair and clothes looking like they had just been thrown on and a small smile on his face.

Victoria found herself running towards him and she flung herself into his arms, his own tightening around her as he held her close. She broke down in tears as she buried her face into his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Victoria asked as she pulled away.

“You need me, so here I am. I can stay for four days. Naveen said it was okay.” Ethan smiled.

“But it’s the middle of the night!” Victoria wiped her eyes.

“Which meant I could get here quicker. Although I’ll probably have to check my bag in the morning. I just threw some clothes in.” Ethan laughed as he grabbed his bag.

“It’s so good to see you. I’m glad you’re here.” Victoria smiled.

Ethan pressed a firm kiss to Victoria’s lips. “Me too.” He picked up his bag and took Victoria’s hand.

They headed into the house, a shadowy figure was stood on the stairs.

“What’s going on Tori? I heard the front door open.” Jane asked. When she saw Ethan, she raised an eyebrow. “Ethan? What are you doing here?”

“I asked him to come Mom. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I needed him.” Victoria replied.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Mrs Clarke.” Ethan said.

“No need to apologise Ethan. And please call me Jane. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Jane smiled heading back to bed.

Victoria led Ethan to her bedroom. He got dressed into some pyjamas and climbed into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I can’t believe you’re really here.” Victoria yawned as she tried to stay awake.

Ethan pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “It’s real Vic. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Victoria snuggled into his embrace, soon drifting off into a deep sleep. For the first time in days, she slept soundly, Ethan’s arms proving the best comfort.

It was a few days since Ethan had arrived and Victoria’s mood had massively changed. Just being with Ethan had made her much happier, everyone could see it. Today was his last day and Ethan was due to leave in an hour. Victoria was soaking up as many cuddles as possible.

Spending time with him in her hometown had been amazing. Her family had gotten to know him better and they all loved him, just like she did. They spent time visiting all the places Victoria used to hang out, the parks she went to, the cafes and restaurants she loved. She was sad that he was going to go home back to Boston.

“Do you really have to go?” Victoria tightened her arms around him.

Ethan chuckled. “I don’t want to. But there’s only so long Naveen can hold the fort for.”

“He wouldn’t mind. He’s so happy that we’re finally together, he’ll probably let you stay off for a bit longer.” Victoria shrugged.

“For some reason I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing that. As much as I want him to.” Ethan smiled.

Victoria sat up and looked at him. “I’ve really enjoyed you being here. I wish you could stay longer.”

Ethan took her hands in his. “Me too. Everyone’s been telling me how much your mood has changed since I arrived. It makes me happy knowing that I have helped in some way.”

Victoria pressed a kiss to his hand. “You have. I think going forward I’ll be okay, so long as I’ve got you by my side.”

“Forever and always Vic.” Ethan smiled.

The couple laid in each others arms, talking about the future and everything that was heading their way.

Ethan checked his watch. “I should get going.” He pressed a kiss to Victoria’s forehead.

Victoria stood up. “Let’s get this over with. In a nice way. The longer we stall, the more upset I’ll become.” She smiled through tears.

The couple headed out where Ethan said goodbye to Victoria’s parents. They walked out the front door to the car, Ethan put his bag in the car.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” Ethan said, wrapping his arms around her.

“Drive safely.” Victoria said.

“Of course.” Ethan smiled. He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, prolonging the moment for as long as possible. “I love you.” He whispered as he broke away.

“I love you too.” Victoria replied, burying her face into his neck for one last hug. Knowing she would have to let go, Victoria extracted herself from Ethan and let him get in the drivers seat.

Reluctantly, Ethan got in the car, giving one last glance to the woman he loved before staring the engine and driving away. Victoria stayed rooted to the spot until she couldn’t see the car anymore and then headed back indoors.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked.

“Yeah I am. I’m glad he came. I feel a lot better.” Victoria replied.

“He’s good for you. Your Dad and I are glad you’ve found someone like him.” Jane smiled.

“I know he is.” Victoria smiled.

Going forward Victoria knew she had the best people. With them by her side she could make it through anything that life threw at her.

I figured this was long enough instead of including what Ethan and Victoria got up to. Maybe I’ll do a separate fic, let me know your thoughts!

Tagging in reblog

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey x victoria clarke #ethan x victoria #playchoices #fanfic #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices: open heart #angst #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

[jacenbren]

2 tag memes

Got tagged in these by @dragonofeternal and I’m more than happy to play along!!

Current things tag meme

3 ships: Inumaki Toge/Okkotsu Yuuta; Legato Bluesummers/Millions Knives; Kai Smith/Zane Julien

Last song: Your Best American Girl by Mitski

Currently reading: the Jujutsu Kaisen manga. against my own better judgement.

Currently watching: working my way through rewatching Supernatural and Death Note. the former is a lot lamer than I remember and the latter is a lot goofier than I remember.

Last movie: Annihilation!! I love that movie and rewatch it from time to time, however I made the mistake of watching it while on a redeye to San Franciso and dozed off halfway through. had a nightmare of That Goddamn Bear chasing me. bad plan.

Currently consuming: fuck I forgot to eat breakfast today. I will make up for it by eating an entire box of cherry tomatoes.

Currently craving: I would kill for some donuts right about now lol

15 people 15 questions tag me

Are you named after anyone? Yes actually! My legal name is based on the name of a band my dad likes, and I stole my chosen name off of a character from the Star Wars EU.

When was the last time you cried? While I was traveling a week ago; I got really overstimulated and exhausted while off my ass on Nyquil and had a meltdown :(

Do you have kids? Nope I am nineteen and not at all mentally healthy enough to be emotionally there for a child. am currently hoping to remove the baby making bits asap.

What sports do you play/have you played? I ran cross-country for about seven years (all the way through both middle school and high school) and got my varsity letter my senior year! I also did track & field for a few years (my events were long jump and 100-meters) and to this day I still go on jogs during the summer.

Do you use sarcasm? I am very autistic so my ability to discern tone is. not great. apparently I use sarcasm a lot without meaning to lmao

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Probably their voice tbh

What’s your eye color? Blue. like apparently scarily blue. fucking satoru gojo dayglow freaky ass cerulean orbs.

Scary movies or happy endings? It wildly depends on the genre and my attachment to the characters. I'm much more of a psychological horror guy rather than an enjoyer of slasher films, so I definitely tend to prefer horror literature than movies. as for happy endings?? I definitely enjoy them when I'm looking for escapism, but unhappy/bittersweet endings definitely still have special a place in my heart.

Any talents? I'm really good at driving and I have perfect pitch!

Where were you born? Anchorage Alaska, born and raised :)

What are your hobbies? I'm a big writer, and I occasionally dabble in drawing. I'm really into Stardew Valley at the moment and I've racked up over 200 hours at this point in just one save file. I am falling hopelessly for Sebastian but I feel too guilty to divorce my current husband Elliot. help.

Do you have any pets? Yep, a cat named Ekko and a dog named George. No the dog isn't named after GeorgeNotFound. My dad named him after George Costanza from Seinfeld.

How tall are you? 5'6"

Favorite subject in school? I was always really into history and would meticulously take notes to the point where I could've probably taught the class myself. however autistic gifted kid burnout hit halfway through high school and I barely graduated after sleeping through most of my classes lmao.

Dream job? Any job where I can put some music on and just Do Tasks all day. I worked tourism over the summer (hated that job and I never want to go back) and spent half of it hiding in the back room putting stickers on merchandise. I Love Boring Menial Tasks.

anyway tagging @mellointheory @hecksee @apollos-boyfriend @setsuntamew @acewendino @wigglesforsquiggles @siryyeet @routeriver @versaphile @avitus-ostrander !! feel free to join in if you like; no pressure :D

#long post #tag game #jacen writes #jacen overshares

[shameboree]

OH MY GOD CAN YOU GIVE US MORE OF THE PEDIATRIC NURSE AU ADRIEN?

sometimes u need to facetime ur wife in the Crying Closet bc a small child said ur jokes suck

#i can and will draw more for this however i am exhausted after 2 nightmare shifts #my floor actually has a Calm Room w a white noise machine but we all know it is for crying #does anyone use it? no. u speedrun crying and slamming down stale donuts like a respectable licensed professional #i need to be asleep. however: i am an idiot #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #shaym draws

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020​ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s.?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What's whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the whumptober2020 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, just be sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies of whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

#eventinfo2020 #whumptober2020 #whumptober #promptlist2020 #prompt list #FAQs #event info

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Self-Defence

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Words: 899

Summary (Requested by Anon): “Hey darling, could you please write some headcanons on Raymond Smith teaching you how to fight/self defence? Maybe ends up smutty?” 

Warnings: protective!Ray, slight mentions of (physical) abuse/violence, smut, swearing. 

A/N - LOVE the idea of this! Can definitely see this happening with Ray... Hope you enjoy x 

As intriguing as Ray’s occupation was working for a notorious gangster crew, and the perks that came along with it... There was however, a down-side. 

The major flaw in Ray’s work in particular was you. You were his disadvantage, the target that potential rivals may consider to use as means of attacking Ray. 

It took him a while to gain the confidence to go public with you, after the constant nagging and reassuring conversations, that you trusted him, believed you were in safe hands, and that you would be prepared had finally convinced him. 

And yet, a part of Ray still had his doubts, although it was too late for him to backdown now. The whole entire crew knew you, and those they had formed partnerships and alliances with. 

Prior to meeting you, Ray's worst nightmare was an unkept household filled with sheer grime and dirt, all until you’d waltzed into his life. 

His priorities had shifted drastically and these feelings were unfamiliar territory. He’d come to realise that now the worst possible thing he couldn't even dare to imagine, was seeing you in harm’s way.

And so he had taken matters into his own hands...

“Right, so I think it’s about time I teach you a few basic manoeuvres in self-defence, love.” 

Initially you thought this was Ray’s shitty attempt at humour, he knew you weren’t really the coordinated time, nor did you believe it was necessary to learn. However, realising the seriousness in both his tone and body language, you thought otherwise.

“Surely not, Ray?”

“Y/N, darling, think about it. If some random cunt even thinks about laying a finger on you... I want you to be prepared, and you promised you would be.” 

He caught you there... You did agree to his terms, once he'd finally been persuaded to come forward about your relationship. 

And so it became tradition, every week the Coach had lent the gym a few nights after it had “closed” for Ray’s personal self-defence class. 

You thought it would be simple, that Ray would take his time and go easy on you as a beginner, although he was quite the opposite. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, you need to take this as seriously as I am. I can’t go easy on you, that’s just not how it works around here. I want you to get the hang of this as quick as possible, now focus-” 

So far 2 weeks had passed, and you’d begun to easily recall the strikes and techniques from memory, after the amount of times Ray had drilled them into you.

Only shit thing, your body was completely sore that going waking up for work was even a painful struggle. 

And Ray, again, took matters into his own hands. He was nurturing, he bathed you himself and tended to any bruise that had popped up from his harsh counter strikes and grip. 

He apologised always as he tended to you, although you knew they were not intended as means to abuse nor harm you... It was preparation, and you’d seen it for yourself with Ray: scars marked all across his body. 

“I truly am proud of you, Y/N. You’re quite the fast learner.” 

Heading into the 3rd week, you’d learnt all the basic skills from counteracting a strike, to escaping the harshest of holds if someone had dared to kidnap you. 

Another session, that was nearing its end, you felt you’d become adapted to the routine of things, when Ray had insisted on revising the previous skills.

“Show me how you’d take down someone sneaking up from behind.” 

And as you instinctively turned your back towards him, ready to act out the given scenario, you felt Ray’s strong arms hastily snake their way around your waist... Definitely not part of the scenario.

“Ray, what are you doing?” 

“Rewarding you.”

Before you knew it, Ray took you right there and then. No concern for Coach’s gym, it was as if something had taken over him.

“Fuck you look incredible in these clothes, all so tight around every inch of you.” 

Despite adoring them, he didn’t spare a minute of tearing them from your body. 

“I need you right now, Y/N.” 

 His deeps, low growls, along with your sultry moans of his name, echoed throughout the empty gym. It drove him even more wild. 

“You deserve this, baby.” Each word he could only manage to utter, breathless, as he pounded himself deeply into you.

You didn’t even dare to respond, so immersed in his reward, you felt that you’d be exhausted, however Ray’s sudden plans left you exhilarated.

Just as he had been dominating you as your sparring partner, this hadn't changed at all. 

His lips hungrily drawing in on your skin, leaving those deep red marks along your body. One hand rested towards your back, lifting your hips up for you, forward towards his body as he tried to penetrate his hard member deeper into your body. 

The other free hand, did as he pleased. Firmly massaging your tit before traveling up into your hair, tugging at the loose strands. 

“Fuck me Y/N!”

Having had the fun, it became a regular thing of Ray... Rewarding you in such vigorous ways, you’d grown to look forward to these self-defence lessons. 

It was exactly the type of quality time he needed after a hard day’s work. 

#raymond smith #ray smith #raymond smith imagines #raymond smith imagine #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam imagines #charlie hunnam fanfic #charlie hunnam fanfiction #the gentlemen #jax teller #jackson teller #sons of anarchy #SOA #lovelykhaleesiii #lovelykhaleesiii charlie hunnam

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.5

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (4.5k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, nightmare depictions, discussions surrounding death 

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, January 19 

The room is pitch black. 

Your feet are submerged within a pool of translucent water, a light breeze nipping at your features. Taking a cautious step ahead, your eyes hesitantly glance around. 

“Hello?” You call out, your voice morphing into an echo that faintly bounces off the walls. You turn to look behind you with no avail, “Hello?” 

Silence greets you once again. A deep frown marrs your features as goosebumps begin to rise on your skin. Your hand comes up to hug your cold arm, and it leaves a red handprint in his stead. 

You involuntarily flinch at the sight, but that’s when your eyes narrow below you and you finally notice the water contaminating with red.  

Nearly stumbling back, it splatters all over your pearl dress, drenching it within moments. No matter how much you splash around and kick it away, it caresses your feet, like a hand clasping onto your limb. 

“W-What?” Your breathing grows thin, a hard knot constricting around your throat. A flash of red passes by the corner of your eyes, and your gaze snaps up, only to be struck by horror. 

Taehyung is clad in the colour, his back facing you. Although you can’t catch a glimpse of his face, the eerie feeling curling in the pit of your stomach is telling enough. 

“T-Taehyung…?” He doesn’t turn to face you, but you still plead, “W-Where am I?” 

“Why are you asking him?”

You whirl around in an instant, knees on the verge of giving out. 

Eunjoo stands before you in the sea of crimson, but unlike you who's been tangled in it, she’s completely drenched. There’s a familiar butter knife in her hands and you dryly swallow, chest tightening. 

She reaches out, as if wanting to hand you the knife. You viciously shake your head, your trembling hands raising in defense. 

That’s when you catch sight of them, eyes transfixing on the drenched nightmare in the flesh. 

“No….” You whisper, desperately attempting to rub away the scarlet residue from your hands. It clings uncomfortably close and despite all your efforts, it’s tainted your skin permanently. 

“N-No, please…..” An overflow of tears accumulate in your eyes, voice cracking. You glance up petrified, orbs practically begging for help. 

Eunjoo stares back at you with hollow pupils, disappointment crossing her features. 

Your body quivers in fear as the scarlet begins to only spread, bleeding through your skin and consuming you entirely. 

Eyes flashing open, you wake up in bed with a sharp gasp. Your chest is heaving, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat uncomfortably clinging to your body. Placing a heavy hand over your racing heart, your irises carefully roam around, dawning upon you that you were simply in your bedroom and not on the verge of drowning. 

You swallow hard as your trembling hand fists the material of your shirt. You wonder how many times it’s been now, how many times those images have managed to enter your head and threatened to split it in half; a familiar wretched scent wafting through the air as sanguine hands ultimately tug you back. 

Slowly sliding off the bed, you wipe away the excess water that’s collecting in the corner of your eyes, and dart your vision over to the large couch in the corner of the room. 

Eyes shut and arms loosely crossed, Namjoon carries a peaceful smile on his lips through his unconsciousness. It contradicts the horror that’s been replaying in your head, keeping you awake even in pitch black and willing to drive you insane. A tired sigh passes by the seam of your lips, gripping the sheets underneath you as your brows snap together. 

Despite your desperate attempts, you’re not even granted a lick of sleep during that night. 

***

Time is an illusion. 

It would pass slowly within the walls of the Kim household ‒ that much you knew ‒ but now it was playing with you, deluding your thoughts into thinking that the loss of it was natural when in fact, you can’t even recall the last time you’ve gotten a decent night of rest. 

The days flow by too quickly. The nights take too long to end. And you are dangling in between them, waiting for the nightmare to be over. 

A low yawn leaves Namjoon’s lips, and he forces himself up with a grunt, rubbing his parched throat in dismay. Rising from his makeshift bed, he nearly stumbles in his attempt to leave the room, hoping to retrieve something to ease his thirst. 

That’s when he hears it, so faint but enough for his keen ears to pick up on. 

He spins around with a frown, tired eyes suddenly widening at the sight of you twisting around and convulsing in bed. 

Approaching cautiously, he notices the way your shoulders are quivering and the deep breaths that escape your lips by the minute, almost as if your lungs were on the verge of giving up. 

Namjoon lowers himself onto the bed, whispering in a soft tone, “Y/N…” 

You continue to shift around, sweat forming at your temples. Namjoon places a hand against your shoulder, gently shaking you. 

“Y/N….” Your breathing abruptly escalates, and he tries again, this time quicker, “Y/N‒” 

You suddenly grab onto him and Namjoon jolts back, eyes completely awake. Fisting the material of his shirt within your hands, a handful of broken words leaves your lips. 

“P-Please….” Voice wavering, water begins to form within the corners of your shut eyes, “Please....j-just leave me alone.…” 

“Please….” You plead again. Namjoon takes your hand that has a hold of him and carefully loosens your grip. However the moment he does, you nearly slump down into arms, appearing exhausted beyond belief. 

A deep crease resides between his brows, and he peers behind him, staring at the bedroom door. After a prolonged pause, he turns back to you, a pang of distress beginning to spread through his irises. 

With a swift tug, your blanket is raised, and it’s not long before he nestles himself in, keeping his arms wrapped around your quivering form. Your head rests against his chest, faintly hearing the soft rhythmical beats of his heart. 

Gazing at you once more, Namjoon places his head against the pillow and closes his eyes, plunging into a deep sleep. 

***

As if caught up in the middle of a daze, you wake up the next morning with empty irises and a pale complexion. You barely pay any attention to how the blanket covering you has been ruffled and messy, or how there’s a  light layer of warmth that emits from only one side of the bed. 

You spend the rest of dawn aimlessly eating breakfast, something you quickly scraped together. Lingering in the kitchen for too long has your hands trembling, so you opt out for taking your meal in your bedroom as familiar whispers echo around you. 

You’re in the midst of consuming your food when the door creaks open. The sound of light footsteps, shuffling cautiously against the ground doesn’t instantly register with your ears and it’s only at the second call of your name with a jerk to your shoulder that you jolt. 

The food splatters onto the ground, creating a mess that ultimately breaks you out of your stupor. 

“O-Oh, my bad.” A light chuckle leaves you, but it’s too strained. “I-I’ll clean up.” 

You aimlessly glance around, all while Namjoon’s gaze doesn’t leave you once. There’s something indecipherable brewing in his eyes as he remains kneeling in place, before he rises immediately, striding over to you. 

His hand clasps around your wrist, halting your actions.

“Leave it.” 

You peer at him puzzled, but it doesn’t take him another second to intertwine his fingers within yours, heading towards the door. Reluctantly following behind him, you nearly stumble when he swings by one particular corridor, before reaching a certain door. 

It’s one you recognize right away, one that offers a gush of wind when it’s opened, an ocean of flowers welcoming you instantly. 

The scenery draws perplexment out of you, yet the open breeze spawns effortless air into your lungs, making you almost feel like you can finally breathe again. Your eyelids are on the verge of fluttering close as your shoulders drop, but you keep them astray once a lingering question conjures in your thoughts ‒ the very reason you’re here. 

Whirling around with furrowed brows, you’re taken aback by Namjoon’s heavy gaze, wide eyes recognizing the scrutinizing manner his orbs take up. 

You flush from the immediate attention, “W-Why did you bring me here?” 

Cautiously peering up, you’re baffled at how something seems to ease within his irises, the familiar warmth you were accustomed to spreading through. 

“You looked like you needed some fresh air.” 

You tilt your head to the side with a frown from the comment, wondering why he would have such a thought.

A deep silence washes over, the sound of the wind simply echoing as you peer above the sky and Namjoon surveys the flowers beneath his shoes. You’re not quite sure if you should say something in rebuttal or as a counteract, but you don’t ponder over it for long.

Namjoon is the first to clear his throat, disrupting the lack of words. 

“Why….” His voice is low, close to a whisper, “Why don’t you go back?”

Your head snaps around to face him, eyes wide, “W-What?” 

He clarifies, louder this time, “Why don’t you go back home?” 

“I-I….” You struggle for an answer, one question only spilling, “Why?” 

For a moment, Namjoon hesitates. You catch onto it right away, the reluctance evident on his features. 

“The burden of my future rests on your shoulders because of our marriage…” 

He sucks in a sharp inhale and at this point, your heart is beginning to viciously thud against your ribcage. It worsens when Namjoon abruptly glances up, staring at you flat in the eyes. 

“And you don’t seem to be happy.” It’s not an observation, but a mere fact. 

“I‒….” 

“Think about it. For as long as you want. And if‒” 

There’s an ocean of distraught lingering in his pupils, “And if there’s a need to divorce..... Then let me know.” 

His brows knit together, and his jaw tenses, lips settling into a firm line. He appears to be patiently waiting, waiting for you to speak up about your thoughts. 

You dip into a brief silence before answering and when you do, your voice cracks. 

“I-I can’t go back…” 

Namjoon’s brows shoot up, “What?” 

A somber smile surfaces on you, “My parents, my family,” You quickly clarify, “They won’t let me come back.” 

Namjoon still looks just as baffled, “What? But how can they‒” A lightbulb immediately goes off in his mind, voice falling into a whisper, “The union….”

You robotically nod and it finally dawns to him that what has occurred between the two of you isn’t a simple marriage. 

It is a union of two families ‒ two families that would have otherwise been at each other’s necks hadn’t it been for some type of peace offering. 

And if you were to go back, it would mean the delicacy holding this union together would ultimately crumble, creating chaos unlike no other. 

Namjoon scowls as he spits out the cutting words. 

“Of course it’s about the union at the end of the day.” 

The sudden change in his tone results in your head snapping up, a gasp nearly leaving your lips. Namjoon meets your gaze, suddenly very aware of your eyes on him. 

“Do you remember how you told my parents the reason that you didn’t want to get involved in your father’s business?” You nod at the abrupt inquiry, and Namjoon sighs, a bitter smile lining his lips, “I don’t think I ever told you the reason why I got involved.” 

Namjoon chuckles at your instant curiosity, “You’d be surprised, it’s quite on par with the reasoning behind our marriage.” 

“When I first found out about my family’s business, from my father, my view of it was similar to yours,” He gestures to you, “Indifferent, apathetic, but at the end of the day, what I thought didn’t really matter.”

“I sort of fell into it initially,” He explains, “Some of it because of interest, some of it because of skill, but a lot of it was because of obligation.”

Your eyes meet his silently. 

“I was given the title of heir even though I just wanted to help out my family, an opinion I still believe to be my first mistake.” 

“They’ve convinced me that this business needs me to survive and prosper, but ultimately,” He laughs, but it isn’t out of amusement, “I'm just a tool.”

Your heart rate nearly stops, breathing stilling completely. 

Namjoon peers in your direction and you attempt to paint an attentive expression onto your features, but it’s harder to do so this time around. 

Instead, there’s a certain anguish in your eyes that reflect his own, almost as if he were gazing into a mirror. 

As the breeze picks up, he eventually leads you away from the garden once you’ve had your ample intake of fresh air. Heading back into the house, you silently follow behind, sight glued to his back.

In the midst of your hushed trailing, the words vividly return back to you. 

"You're a tool now, Y/N. From here on, you must follow our every instruction and order."

***

Namjoon stands outside of your bedroom door, patiently waiting for you to finish walking up the stairs. The moment you’re on the same ground level as him, he warmly smiles. 

“I have to head work now, urgent duty calls….” 

You solemnly nod, “‒But I’ll be back before night falls, in case y-you know....uh, you need me….”

Your eyes instantly light up, like a deer caught up in headlights. Namjoon teeter totters from side to side, a rapid flush suddenly rising onto his skin. You ponder over its cause, but the thought immediately dissipates once he cups your cheek with his hand. 

If your eyes were wide before, then they were tremendously wide now. 

Namjoon leans forward, pressing a soft kiss right at the centre of your forehead. You are completely frozen during the interaction, mouth falling agape as he takes a step back. 

You’re once again his mirror, but alongside the rapid hue of scarlet dusting on your cheeks, you have the addition of your skin tingling from the contact, breaths becoming caught within your throat.

His flush has deepened considerably, and he laughs, as if trying to ward off any lingering embarrassment. He lingers for a moment, like he was debating on whether or not to leave, before ultimately remembering that he was supposed to be at work soon. 

As Namjoon departs, your vision remains on his back, following his descent down the stairs. Once he’s clearly gone, you spin around, hands finding the steel knob of your bedroom’s door. 

You freeze for a moment, staring down at the door handle for what seems like an eternity. Reaching up, your other hand softly touches the tip of your forehead, right where his lips brushed across. 

For some strange reason, it’s like someone had released a bundle of butterflies and they were all fluttering around in the pit of your stomach. 

***

The room is murky, a large shadow casting itself over the lavish bed. Soft knocks resonate from one particular corner, the plastic container balancing within your hands as you remain crouched down in position. 

You patiently wait for a moment, the correspondence going silent. An exhausted sigh escapes your lips, legs beginning to slump down and spread out across the ground. 

There no longer seems to be a spark of urgency in your actions anymore, obligation taking over more than necessary. You wonder if it’s because you’re simply tired, tired of running away from a nightmare that has become your reality. 

For a brief moment, your head comfortably lulls back against the wall and you allow your eyes to flutter shut. 

Static echoes immediately. 

You jolt up in alarm, vision dazed until it lands upon the box. You lift it in your hands, freezing for a moment. 

Be on guard. 

The corner of your mouth twitches and you unplug the cord within an instant. The static dies out and you bring your knees closer to your head, fisting your dangling locks with your hands. 

Although the words seem to carry concern and distress, you know you’re not far too naive to understand the underlying implication. 

You need a plan. 

But the problem is your mind is completely void of anything. Clouds have overtaken the place where there should be buzzing electricity, the task being as easy as knowing the back of your palm. 

For a split second ‒ you ponder if you actually have it in you to figure something out to get back on track. 

Fisting your hands into balls, you slowly rise from the ground, taking a second glance at the container before packing it away. A heavy exhale escaping your lips, the dismay rooting deep in your eyes. 

***

You slide down the layering staircase, the mute atmosphere of the residence making you fidget your hands around. Vision landing onto a nearby window, you peer outside, noticing the white flowers getting drenched by the heavy rain. You sight lands beneath them, pools of translucent water beginning to slowly collect. 

You avert your eyes immediately, hands slightly quivering. A shaky deep breath escapes and your lips press into a tight line, down-turning into a frown. 

The front door comes slamming open. 

You spin around, shoulders instantly spike up and a hand pressing against your chest. Namjoon stands before you, nearly drenched from the downpour outside. 

However, that’s not where your sight lands. It’s the frightful expression he holds that draws your attention more. 

Swallowing hard, you take careful steps towards him.  

“Y-Y/N…” His hands latch onto your arms right away, eyes rapidly flickering. 

You tilt your head to the side, appearing as puzzled as you can. Yet that’s easier said than done, and you hope Namjoon doesn’t notice the way your hands are trembling and how stiff your shoulders have become. 

 “I-I…..” 

You faintly touch his shoulder, “Namjoon, what is it?” 

Namjoon’s gaze meets yours and you hold your breath, attempting to brace yourself as much as possible. 

“....Taehyung’s been killed.” 

Your heart rate shoots up to an alarming rate, and you fight back the urge to cower away from him. There’s no excuse for you to be reacting this way since after all, the information he presents isn’t new knowledge at all. 

You’ve been waiting for this. 

Eunjoo has been reported missing, and Taehyung is nowhere to be found either. 

The latter was presumed to be occupied with business, on an urgent trip of some sorts that led to his absence. 

But you know that such a tale can’t be woven with evidence. 

The next question that sits on the tip of your tongue makes your heart want to burst, yet it has to be asked regardless. 

“W-Who would do such a thing?” 

“I’m not too sure.” He presses a hand against his temples, “They found the corpse nearby here, but it was barely identifiable...almost like he was set aflame.” 

You swallow hard. 

Namjoon deeply sighs, shaking his head, “An investigation has opened up so hopefully we’ll be able to find out soon.” 

You visibly relax, shoulders slumping down. There’s a crease between his brows, and he appears lost in thought as you glance at him in confusion. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing, just‒” He shrugs and fumbles around, “Eunjoo went missing around the same time Taehyung was killed, so I’m just wondering if there’s a possibility of the two instances being connected.” 

Your eyes immensely enlarge as you morph into a block of ice, pupils fixated on Namjoon. He was an extremely keen thinker based on his profile and you wonder if that particular trait of his was going to ultimately be the one following your downfall. 

Namjoon turns to you, “That brings me to another matter‒what do you think about hiring someone to replace Eunjoo for the time being?” 

“H-Huh?” You blink, noticing him waiting for your response. A hard knot is starting to restrict around your throat and the longer you stand beside him, the more your chest has begun to painfully tighten. “Uh, sure‒yes, that’s a good idea.” 

Namjoon nods with a smile, patting your shoulder before heading into a room on the ground level. The moment he’s out of sight, you escape right away, entering your bedroom within seconds. 

Once the door is tightly locked behind you, your trembling hands reach out to cover your face. Hot tears roll down your flushed skin, your knees giving in as you slide down the wall, collapsing against the wall. 

***

Sunshine floods into the house past the curtains, a bright piercing light that only seems to sting at your swollen eyes. You descend slowly down the stairs, careful not to succumb down to fatigue and stumble on your way down. 

The moment you reach the bottom, your eyes widen and transfix with horror. 

Namjoon is seated on a couch, the remaining three shareholders surrounding them. They seem to be in some sort of deep conversation until Namjoon catches sight of you, a warm look residing within his eyes. 

“Did you sleep well?” He wonders as you draw near, pupils sweeping through the shareholders expressions. They hold an air of both distraught and somberness, but there’s something brewing underneath that nearly has you staggering back. 

Anger. 

Motionlessly, you nod in response and Namjoon gestures for you to sit down with him. No one speaks a word against him for your inclusion and for a moment, you wonder if it’s worse to have it that way. 

“Taehyung left during the night after you returned from escorting Y/N to your driver.” There’s a sheet of paper in front of Yoongi, containing a range of scribbles and bullet points that have obstructed circles and multiple question marks around them. It gives you an inkling to the conversation that was being held before you entered, unease stirring within the pit of your stomach. 

“He had a gun with him.” Hoseok explains, brows intensely furrowed as his eyes scrutinize all over the notes, “Or at least, that’s what the servants at his mansion said.” 

“Why on earth would he need a gun?” Yoongi whispers, shaking his head at the information. You uncomfortably shift in your seat, hands beginning to fist the soft cloth of your skirt. 

“Do you think it’s because he thought someone might try to kill him?” Jungkook immediately says, glancing back and forth with wide eyes. 

“Or maybe because he needed to kill someone.” Namjoon darkly retorts, locking eyes with Yoongi in an instant. Something sparks within his irises, and he rapidly scribbles down on the sheet of paper. 

It’s almost like someone has wrapped their hands around your throat, cutting off your air supply with every word they pronounce. You attempt to keep a face of naivety and confusion on, acting more like an innocent doll than anything. 

Yet there’s murmurs of your hands tightening on instinct, or the way your eyes can’t help but dart around manically ‒ simple things that glitch out the more you try to repress them. 

As Namjoon and Yoongi ponder over if Taehyung has made any new enemies recently, you decide it would be best to look for a route of the situation, something meek that you can excuse yourself with and that Namjoon wouldn’t even bat an eyelash over. However that’s when your eyes come into contact with foreign ones, and the glitches are on the verge of magnifying by tenfold. 

There’s a face before you that you haven’t encountered beyond, round with a wise smile and eyes kind that reflect the desire to be useful more than anything. Your breath grows thin within an instant and the urge to stagger away hits you. 

“Did you want something to eat, Miss Y/N?” She tilts her head to the side, humbly offering her services. “I can make some tea with tarts for you if you’d like.” 

The fabric beneath your fingers is tightened until your knuckles turn white and you remain frozen, simply staring at her as if her words made no sense. 

Hoseok suddenly speaks to Namjoon and the sound of their interaction jolts you back, mind running in alarm as you hurriedly rise from your seat. 

There’s a bittersweet smile on your lips, “No thank you, I should be fine.” 

She nods understanding and then bows, but you easily catch the look of distress she holds from your refusal. You pay her no mind as you scramble away, heading straight into your room. 

From afar, you notice the look in the corner of Namjoon’s eyes as you scurry away, a linger of concern painfully radiating in his irises. 

***

Namjoon has completely lost track of time. 

He can’t recall moments his mind wasn’t preoccupied with Taehyung’s investigation, the reminder of the day sending him through a loop as he constantly tried to come up with conclusions with Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook. Even when he offered to temporarily halt their actions and look at the case with fresh eyes later, his suggestion was shot down and refused nonetheless. 

He pinches his eyes together with his fingers, a deep sigh slipping out from the seams of his lips. Blinking a couple of times, his sight lands on the door to your shared bedroom, thoughts immediately arising about you. 

He hasn’t seen you all day, and the new maid tells him that you’ve been in your room for hours since he encountered you this morning. The news about the entire mayhem is already too much for him, so he can’t help but wonder what’s swirling in your mind about it. 

Entering the room carefully, he already notices you lying asleep on the bed as he quietly heads towards the couch, prepared to collapse down at any second. 

The sound of sheets ruffling immediately catches on to his keen ears. 

His head snaps up, gaze landing on your shaking form. Drawing closer, he notices the sheets have been considerably tousled, and that your breathing is coming out alarmingly erratic, as if you were struggling to breath. 

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to occupy the side of the bed opposite to you, his arms wrapping around your form like it was second nature to him. However in the midst of his actions, he doesn’t notice that your eyes have fluttered open, freshly awake from the ongoing nightmare. 

To his complete surprise, you roll over and tug him closer. 

#ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #bts rm fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #bts namjoon fluff #bts namjoon smut #bts namjoon angst #bts namjoon arranged marriage au #bts arranged marriage au #bts rm arranged marriage au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #namjoon x reader #namjoon x oc

[det-loki]

poison & wine pt. seven

You think your dreams are the same as mine

warnings: suicide, blood/gore, angst

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 2,294

A/N: i am so sorry for the delay in updates, writers block slapped me in the face. this is a heavy chapter with a heavy subject, please be gentle and honest with yourself before reading. don’t force yourself. enjoy! xx

1  2  3  4  5  6   ⌽

 You sat in the interrogation viewing room as Loki sat in front of you staring at Bob Taylor through the glass. You weren’t getting anywhere questioning him, so in a last resort attempt, you had him draw a maze in hopes to find the little girls. This had been going on for three hours. You shifted in the office chair slowly, your joints cracking at you angrily for sitting in this position for so long. Neither you nor Loki had moved much in the past three hours, watching as Bob drew his maze and listening to him hum as he did so. You could feel the waves of anger and frustration rolling off of David as he stared ahead with his chin in his hand beside Officer Carter. 

The door opened behind you, Captain O’Malley leaning against the door frame, “How long has this Bob Taylor been workin’ on this map?”

“Three-and-a-half hours.” Loki quickly muttered before turning his attention back to Bob and the pages of maze drawings sprawled messily in front of him. 

“And you two think this is gonna lead you to the bodies? Cause I sure as shit don’t.”  O’Malley had been bothering you this entire case, creating unnecessary roadblocks for you and Loki, and David had had enough.

“Do me a favor, Captain. Go fuck yourself.” Loki snapped at O’Malley, who had no immediate reaction, he was used to this from David. “We weren’t getting anywhere questioning him.”

“That looks more like a maze than a map.” O’Malley walked closer to the window as he spoke, David getting more and more irritated with him.

“He’s got a thing for mazes. If you don’t have anything constructive to say, I’d appreciate it if you’d just fuck off and let us do our jobs.”  You spoke up from your perch in the office chair, snapping at O’Malley, who was not used to this attitude from you, it was usually David. This caused a twinge of worry to set on Captain O’Malley, if you were starting to lose it then that meant something bad, and that scared him more than he liked to admit. You were struggling to not fly off the handlebars along with David.

Captain O’Malley nodded his head once, “I’m goin’ home. Call me if somethin’ happens.” Loki huffed loudly as O’Malley left, the door clicking as it shut. You and Loki continued to watch Bob draw his mazes as Officer Carter sipped on his coffee quietly, the only sound filling the room was Bob’s broken humming. 

Loki snapped up from his rigid position, chair rolling back, snapping his fingers at Officer Carter to give him the key card to the interrogation room. You watched silently as Loki exited the room, too exhausted to question him. You adjusted in your seat, moving to the edge of it in case you needed to jump up. 

“All right, it’s done now.” Loki snapped at Bob, his voice wavering and you knew that something was wrong, David hit his breaking point. You knew David like the back of your hand, and you knew the past few hours had been a lot for the both of you. You stood from your seat, ignoring the questioning look Officer Carter sent you, stars exploding across your vision as you stumbled out of the room.

You opened the interrogation room door to hear Loki continuing to yell at Bob, asking him what he was drawing. Taylor’s nose continued to drip blood on the paper and the table, mixing with his tears, multiple pages of drawings spread across the table haphazardly. You looked at David, trying to meet his icy eyes to get him to reel it back in, but his eyes stayed trained on Bob in front of him. 

“Tell me what you’re drawing.” Loki waited a moment for a response, his arms crossed in front of him, sleeves pushed up his forearms, bunching at his elbow. More of his tattoos were exposed on his forearm, revealing more of yours and his history that had normally been hidden by clothing. The air in your lungs evaporated as Loki lunged for Bob, throwing him back against the backrest of the chair, hands intertwined tightly in the collar of Bob’s shirt as Bob cried out, “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can! Yes, you can!” Loki yelled in his face before throwing him forward against the table, the sound of an already broken nose cracking once again filled the air. You stepped forward quickly, hands grabbing at David’s bicep to try to pry him off of Bob. 

 “David, let go. You have to let go.” Your attempts were ignored as Loki continued to yell at Bob, his voice bouncing off the walls of the interrogation room. Behind you, the door flies open with Officers Carter and Wedge coming in and dragging Loki off of Bob. You shift in front of Bob, trying to calm him down as you see him reach for Officer Wedge’s gun. 

Your eyes widen as you yell out, “Gun!”  Loki and Carter draw their weapons as you continue to stand between them and Bob, pleading for Bob to listen to you and lower the weapon. You knew that two guns were being aimed at you, but you didn’t care, you were desperate. You also knew that if you made it out alive, David would be mad at you for standing in the middle of crossfire. You didn’t care anymore. At all. 

“Bob put the gun down, we can figure this out.” You pleaded with Bob as he held the gun to his chin, Loki behind you, yelling at you to move. Your head snaps around briefly to David, telling him to put the gun down. Bob was scared and two guns being pointed at him wasn’t helping the situation. Your hands are thrown in front of you in a calming gesture as you look at Bob with a gun aimed at his head. Tears pricked your eyes as you continued to plead with him. He couldn’t kill himself, both for the sake of you and this case. 

Everything happened in slow motion. The last thing you saw before dropping to the ground was Bob pulling the trigger with a shaking finger. Blood and brain matter splattered across the window behind him and pooled near you on the ground. Your ears were ringing as you felt Officer Carter nudge your shoulder and ask if you were okay as you nodded yes. Bob laid lifeless in front of you, limp. You were sure this image would haunt you forever, another nightmare added to the list. You sat up slowly and turned to see Loki run a shaking hand across his face, “Fuck. Go call a fuckin R.A.!” Officers Wedge and Carter ran out of the room, David standing with hands over his face and you on the ground, numb.

Your hands were covered in blood. You don’t remember how the blood got there , all you know is that the continuous scrubbing under the scalding hot water in the locker room isn’t working to get the red staining off. As you continued to scrub your hands raw, tears spilled over and down your face. You had just seen someone kill themselves, lost a lead to the case and you felt hopeless. Two little girls might be dead because of you. You felt arms snake around your waist, pulling your burning hands from the water. You struggled against David as you cried, his embrace tightening around you as you turned, your hands pounded weakly against his chest as you sobbed. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, apology after apology being whispered into your ear, David's hands clutching at your sides desperately so he didn’t fall apart. 

You felt hot tears on your neck, shifting in Loki’s arms to see him crying. You brought your red trembling hands to his face, wiping away the tears with your thumb. You hadn’t seen David cry since the funeral, the worst day of your life. Neither of you said anything, just savoring a fleeting moment of peace in each other's arms before you had to go face the real world. 

The next day, you sat in O’Malley’s office silently, Loki next to you with the maze drawing from Bob at his feet, he was in a place mentally far from here. He was hunched over, finger gliding over the paper, trying to find a way out as O’Malley poured whiskey into a glass for himself. He offered a glass to you and Lok but both of you declined, O’Malley combining both glasses in his own, not hiding his love for alcohol. You stared blankly at the ground, head pounding as O’Malley spoke, goosebumps raised across your arms, a chill ran through your body. The little girls were probably dead. You had seen a man kill himself. You haven't spoken to David more than 5 words at a time since the breakdown in the locker room. You encompassed the word ‘broken.’

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about losing you two to PSP. Forensics is finished with the guy’s place, we’re gonna deploy the cadaver dogs. Look, kid, we can’t always save the day. All right? We’re just cops, janitors. So you lost this one, all right?” O’Malley had no idea what he was saying. He had no idea what this case meant to you or David. No one did.

You could feel O’Malley look between the two of you, “You two have gotten too involved with this case. You both look like hell.” You wanted to laugh. You did feel like hell. You had on one of David’s sweaters, opting for comfort, your hair messily pulled back, not having the energy to do anything more. Makeup hadn’t touched your face in a week, you’re dark circles engulfing your eyes. You definitely looked like hell. David was no better, his dark circles made him look sickly against his already pale skin, his stubble casting shadows on his face that made him appear much older than he actually was. Maybe you two were too invested, however neither of you said anything. 

O’Malley huffed and looked at David, “Look, you want fulfillment, you need to find a girl, you know, start a family, have some kids. Let it go.” Your world shattered at O’Malley’s words. David brought his hands to his hair, tattooed fingers raking through it as he did his best to not lash out at Captain. He did not know the weight his words carried.  Your little girl couldn’t just be let go. The complicated dynamic you and David had couldn’t just be let go. You and David were connected on a level deeper than anyone would ever be able to understand, the pair of you being present for every moment, the good, bad and the gruesome ugly. Foster homes, detention centers, halfway houses, grimey apartments, the police academy, even the fucking Chinese resteraunt, everything connected to you and David from the past flooded through your mind. 

You followed David out of the room, not daring to speak to him after what Captain had just said to him. You knew he was furious. His personal life was always a touchy subject for him, considering his past. You were also a touchy subject. No one knew about you and David’s relationship; you were the one good thing he had and he didn’t want others to tarnish it by knowing. You were his home, able to be himself and unleash his inner demons with no judgement. You had seen it all first hand anyway, where there was David, you usually weren’t far behind. Unbeknownst to you, David wanted everything O’Malley had said with you, a family, the white picket fence house, even a dog. He didn’t think he was good enough for you to have those things.

You sat at your desk as David sat at his behind you, waves of anger rolling off of him yet he hadn’t said a word yet. 

David finally snapped. You were counting the seconds, he made it to 47. He lashed out, shoving everything off of his desk, sending his computer monitor and papers flying. He sat at his chair for a moment, hands clasped in front of him, his body collapsed in over itself as everyone in the station turned to look in his direction. You watched from your chair only a few feet from him as he grabbed for his keyboard. He raised it above him, bringing it down against his desk twice, sending keys flying as the keyboard hinged against his force. The keyboard dropped from his hands, clattering on the carpeted floor as David brough a shaking hand to his face.

Looking down you see a key from the smashed keyboard. Leaning down, you pick up the key and stand, bringing it over to Loki. He had a picture of the corpse from the priest’s basement in his hands along with the maze drawing, studying it with an intensity that scared you. Your eyes dart from the pictures to the toy RV from Alex's room that had been knocked onto the ground. You looked between the two pictures, the significance clicking.

The maze drawing and the pendant on the corpse matched. Perfectly.

David’s phone ringing brought you back as he fumbled for it from his black shirt pocket. You could vaguely hear the person on the other line, “Hey, it’s Rich. We found something.”

You knew you and David needed to properly talk, and you definitely needed to call your therapist, but it had to wait. You needed to solve this, even if it tore you from the inside out. Even if it killed you.

tag list: . @lexie-wayland @whew-oh-em-gee @winterlavenderskysworld​ @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee @pinkpunkdynamite @eleventhdoctorsangel @multiyfandomgirl40 @thanossexual​ @speedybonkuniversityzine​ @booklove103​ @curly-q3 @msfarr88​ 

#detective loki #detective loki fanfic #detective loki fanfiction #detective loki imagine #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #prisoners #Prisoners 2013 #hugh jackman #fanfiction #detective #angst #poison and wine

[mnictasbcl]

2:42 am

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 1st:  Watching a human sleep. @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Sumo, Amanda

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: Fluff, then, Angst, Nightmares, Hurt, Panic attack, sort of, Swearing

Summary: Connor comes back home with Hank after the Revolution. His first night after everything that happened, including the mind control by Amanda, would be fine, right?

Alternatively: Connor finds himself in Hank’s room at 2:42 in the morning.

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

The sun was setting on the day the revolution had succeeded. Rays of light glinted off the rusted metal truck that was Chicken Feed, as Hank and Connor, human and android, embraced. In that moment, none of their differences had mattered, not the disagreements from before, nor the variations in their biology. The hug was warm and loving, metal encased in artificial skin just as squishy, just as human.

They couldn’t stay there forever, of course. Chicken Feed wasn’t even currently open to serve food, and the day was drawing on. In silent agreement, the two stepped back before making their way over to the car.

The door shut. The hula girl on the dashboard bobbed back and forth, back and forth.

“You got someplace to stay, Connor?”

“No, Lieutenant.”

“Hank.”

Connor raised a brow, blue LED swirling in thought, before coming to realisation that Hank wanted him to call him that.

“Of course, Lieutenant.”

“Little shit.” The man breathed, slotting keys into the ignition of the car, no real heat behind his tone. “I was going to offer for you to stay at my place. But maybe with that snark, you don’t want to come back and meet Sumo again—”

“I wouldn’t wish to intrude, but… I think it would be beneficial to have a safe place to stay.” He fiddled with his tie, head twitching briefly to the side. Wearing a suit after being in the more comfortable deviant clothes definitely wasn’t pleasant. He’d much rather shed the tie and jacket for the beanie and baggy clothes, but he was still on the fence about such matters.

“You just want to pet the damn dog again.”

Connor couldn’t help it, he snorted. When Hank glanced over, he covered it up with clearing his throat. If he’d still been a machine, maybe he would have retaliated something about probabilities or how he could not ‘want’ anything. Instead, he pulled off the tie and remarked,

“I like dogs.”

 ___________________

 It wasn’t a lie at all. As they arrived home—back at Hank’s home, of course—Connor couldn’t help but feel eager to see the Saint Bernard again. His fingers itched, somewhat remembering the silky feel of the dog’s fur under his fingertips from their brief encounter that one night.

And it seemed Sumo was just as eager to meet the android again, because, as the two walked through the house, as soon as the dog saw Connor, he let out a deep bark, paws padding along the floor. He smiled and leant down to pet him.

Hank cleared his throat dramatically, after a few minutes of belly rubs and ear scratches.

“Sumo? Hello to your master?”

The dog whined and nuzzled his head closer into Connor’s touch.

“Traitor dog.”

Sumo barked in response, tail wagging, sweeping on the floor and almost tripping Hank up as he attempted to step around the pair.

“Jesus Christ.”

Connor glanced up. “No, it’s me, Connor.”

“I changed my mind, get out of my house.”

The android looked up swiftly, processing, almost taking it seriously as his cue to leave before detecting sarcasm. He chuckled, making no effort to get up until he’d deemed enough attention given to the canine. Okay, nevermind, there was never enough attention to give to Sumo, but he had to stop at some point.

As he got up, he looked up the time briefly. 8.54pm. It was getting fairly late into the evening, but he knew Hank hadn’t eaten at Chicken Feed.

“Would you like me to cook you a meal, Lieu- Hank?”

The main raised a brow at him in question.

“I haven’t observed you eating yet, and it is not healthy to skip meals—”

“I’ll order some takeout.” Hank waved a hand in dismissal.

Connor narrowed his eyes. It was something he could recall feeling distantly before he deviated, whenever he saw Hank eating something incredibly unhealthy, such as that time with the burger. The levels of lipids and—it was annoyance, he realised. No, was it? The android tilted his head to the side in thought. He wasn’t sure if he could pin the correct emotion on it, being new to deviancy, but he definitely felt as if he should stop the man from ordering out.

“I insist.”

“Yeah? Well, I insist.”

“But I can cook—”

“It’s been a long day. Hell, you’ve been busy today fighting in an android revolution. I think I can order a burger.”

Connor couldn’t help but shake his head.

“No burger? Fine, pizza time it is.”

Exasperation. That was what it was, he decided, watching in defeat as the man took a leaflet out from the kitchen draw and mumbled the number of the pizza place under his breath. But maybe the man was right. He wasn’t sure if this was what humans called tiredness, but the revolution had certainly taken a toll on his systems. And maybe it was okay for Hank to indulge in less optimal food choices once in a while. His diet would certainly grow to be healthier in the future if Connor had a choice in it.

 ___________________

 The pizza arrived, Connor snuck Sumo a small piece of it, got scolded by Hank for being a hypocrite- all in all, it was an eventful evening. Definitely not the sort of thing machine Connor would have imagined himself doing. But something the real Connor surely did, and he loved every moment of it. Apart from the scolding, of course.

It was drawing on 9.29pm, an unusual time to be finishing a full meal, when Hank switched off the TV, stretching. They’d whiled away the time watching the news after the revolution, seeing the androids celebrating in the streets. Connor felt tired looking at them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with them- on the contrary, but the day had indeed been exhausting enough. Perhaps he would attend the parties he knew Jericho might throw in the coming weeks, once all the politics and such things had settled down.

Pointing Sumo to his bed, Hank got up from the couch, stretching. “I’m gonna call it a day. You—” he paused, glancing to Connor, expression shifting as he seemed deep in thought about something. “You can, uh, stay on the couch and… rest? I don’t know what you do. But you can, you know, do it on the couch.” He cringed at his choice of wording.

“Thank you, Hank. Androids don’t rest, but I can go into a mode of stasis in order to recharge and perform system updates—”

“Sounds like sleeping to me.”

Connor pursed his lips, looking displeased. “In a crude manner of speaking… yes. The couch will be fine, thank you.”

Hank nodded. “Great. Well, have a nice stasis. Don’t let the… android bed bugs bite.”

As he walked out the room, Connor blinked, thinking over the statement. “Bed bugs…” He murmured, LED circling yellow. “But this is a couch.”

He shrugged off the quandary eventually, storing it in his mind for later to think over, before adjusting his seating position on the couch. It would be easier to lay down, in case he startled the Lieutenant, finding him sleeping sitting up. Of course, androids used to stand up in stations built around the city to go into stasis, but that was before. It was funny to think of it like that, when before was simply yesterday and all the time before the success of the revolution.

Connor pushed aside the cushions before laying down on the couch, eyes flicking shut. He took a few breaths, which were usually unnecessary but helped to calm his systems and it was in a few moments that he fell into stasis.

 But strangely, sometimes, stasis could produce images in his mind. He was a detective model, perhaps it was a way of thinking of possibilities and probabilities of things happening in the world. One would assume, then, that these images would be realistic.

Tonight, however, something seemed fantastical about them. His inner eyes snapped open, and he was in a swirling snowstorm. His arms clutched around his middle, sensors picking up the frigid temperatures. It wasn’t dissimilar to the scene he’d experienced earlier that day in his Zen Garden, when he’d been standing up on that stage, Markus giving his speech, and Amanda had pulled him out of reality.

But there were changes. The way out… Kamski’s secret way out of this control over his systems… it wasn’t there. The paths were all different, winding and winding on, not leading to the stone platform where he could place his hand and resume control over his own body. He followed the winding paths, Amanda’s voice whispering in his ears, feeling as if he’d never reach anywhere, not in time.

You’ve failed, Connor.

The paths stopped. He could see the trellis in the distance, roses snaking up it, choking it, further and further into the sky. Suddenly, he could see the glint of the escape he was meant to reach, somewhere up there in the heavens.

Connor picked up his pace, pulling his hands away from his sides, ignoring the ice creeping over his fingers, and grasped at the trellis. Pulling himself up, he managed to find a foothold.

Cyberlife always planned for you to become compromised.

He grit his teeth as the thorns dug into his hands but ignored the flares of pain and the red warnings flashing in his vision. He had to get to the top. Had to get away, had to…

We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…

Somewhere in his mind, as if he could see what his body was doing, out of his control, an image flashed. Connor wasn’t on the couch anymore; he wasn’t in Hank’s house. No… it couldn’t be… had he never hugged Hank outside Chicken Feed? Had the revolution never ended?

He was up on that stage again. Markus was speaking, and Amanda was twisting his limbs to her will.

Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do.

The escape was too far away. His hands slipped, the snow making the trellis slick with moisture, and he lost his footing. The escape was getting further and further out of reach, and there was nothing he could do, except fall down and down and—

You accomplished your mission.

 Connor awoke with a start.

He shot up off the couch as if it had wounded him, breaths stuttering in and out. Sumo looked up at him from where he sat in his bed, whining and looking at the android with concern in his honey brown eyes.

“I’m…” Connor breathed, hand hovering over his LED. It was flashing a jarring red. “I’m…”

He didn’t understand. Out of all the times he’d experienced those sorts of images during stasis, he’d never had any like that… never had any that left his thirium pump beating heavily in his chest, his hands trembling, never…

Cautiously, he made his way back onto the couch, perching on the edge of it. Hands resting on his knees, willing his LED to circle back to yellow, then back to blue—

This trepidation, this fear, was this what came with being human?

Connor closed his eyes. Saw Amanda, saw the gun in his hands, saw the trellis with its blood red roses. Opened his eyes.

He brought his arms around himself, in a sort of self-soothing. It wasn’t real. It was okay. It was just imaging. Just his overzealous detective software figuring out what could happen- no, what could have happened. The revolution had happened. And they’d won. He hadn’t shot Markus, he’d reached the escape and he was free. Finally free. If he went into his Zen Garden now, the roses would be withered and dead, but the waters still and calm, no sign of Amanda anywhere.

Knowing the truth and hard facts made him feel a little more tethered to reality. Lines of yellow cut through the red of his LED. Maybe none of it was true. But… why wasn’t he completely back to normal? He glanced to his jittering hands, and then to the Hank’s bedroom door.

Right. Hank. For some reason, that thought that had lodged itself in his mind during the dream—whatever it was. The thought that none of it had ever happened, that Hank had never brought him into his home, and it had come to stay.

He groaned. He was in the man’s house right now, sitting on his couch and staring at his dog. It didn’t make any sense.

Then again, not a lot of being human had made sense to him that evening. All he wanted in that moment was to dispel the rumours his mind was conjuring, and the solution appeared to be behind that bedroom door.

With a sigh, he got back off the couch, glancing around the room briefly before quietly making his way to Hank’s bedroom door. He raised his hand to knock, before changing his mind. It was 2:42am, not an optimal time to wake the man. So instead, he pushed open the door silently, having learned the last time he’d been in this room where to push it to so that it didn’t creak.

One glance over the room told him it was dark. Well, no shit, Connor, his inner voice muttered, sounding a lot like Hank. Blinking, eyes adjusting to the change, he managed to make out the shape of Hank sleeping on his bed, one leg hanging off the edge, face half pressed against the pillow, cheek squished.

He nodded. Hank was there, he was alive, and he’d certainly let Connor into his house, so therefore none of the bad stuff in his… nightmare… was true. He could just leave and go back into stasis on the couch.

Except, he found he didn’t want to leave the room. Feet planted stubbornly on the floor, carrying out their own form of deviancy to his logical thinking. He sighed. He then caught sight of a chair in the corner of the room.

Connor shrugged. Sitting down in the chair, he found it wasn’t too uncomfortable. In fact, he found sitting up like this a better and more familiar position than lying down on the couch had been. And from this viewpoint, he could see Hank wherever he looked, chest rising and falling. The minutes ticked on. The android found a sense of peace in watching Hank sleep, LED going yellow, yellow, yellow, before finally back to ocean blue. Hank was safe. Hank was sleeping, just like he’d said he was going to earlier. This was the reality. He was in control of his own body, and he would do as he pleased with it, which meant in this moment, watching Hank sleep.

Maybe being human didn’t make much sense to him, but in that moment… it was pleasant.

Eventually, with serenity falling back over him and his mind focused on rest, it wasn’t long before he slipped back into a dreamless stasis.

 ___________________

 Hank awoke later that morning, the sun shining through the blinds, to find his bedroom door wide open, Sumo laying over his legs, and Connor sitting on the chair across from his bed, eyes fallen shut.

“Fuckin’ android.” He mumbled, affectionately.

#dbhcolorsofdeviancy #dbh #detroit become human #dbh connor and hank #dbh connor #dbh hank #fanfic #dbh fanfic #ngl this was my favourite prompt to write so far (almost finished writing the prompts) #angst

[365days365movies]

May 10, 2021: Blade Runner 2049 (2017) (Recap: Part Two)

Said I’d talk about artificial humans in sci-fi, so...

There are a HELL of a lot of examples of artificial humans in science-fiction, as well as the ethical and philosophical concepts that their existence raises. Now, your definition of “artificial” may differ from medium to medium. At its base form, these are humans that are not born, but made. I’ll be talking fleshy organic humans, not robotic ones. The most common of these is, of course, clones.

A clone, strictly speaking, is a genetically identical copy of a pre-existing organism, in this case a human. While this isn’t technology we’ve applied to humans as of yet (due to the NUMEROUS ethical problems and questions), we have done so with animals, mostly sheep and cats. It’s actually a good way to de-extinct certain species, and we’ve already done experiments with that. Of course...that has its own concerns.

Keeping up the Jurassic Park reference streak! Anyway...

There are a FUCKTON of examples of clones in science-fiction, but since I’m a massive comic book nerd, I’ll use Superboy. The genetic combination of Superman and Lex Luthor, Conner Kent is one of the most prominent clone superheroes. He’s not the only clone of Superman, of course. He’s not even my favorite clone of Superman, to be honest...

Bizarro am the worst. ME WILL LIVE ON THAT HILL.

Oh, and let’s not forget THE most prominent artificial human in comic books PERIOD. I don’t care what her origin in the movies is, that’s never been my favorite version of Wonder Woman. Making her a demigod robs her of something important, in my opinion.

...Should I make a comic book blog? Shit, thinkin’ about it.

OK, before I do that, these are just my favorite examples. Fact is, there are FAR too many examples of artificial humans to go into, whether they’re built, grown, sculpted, conjured, or a chemical reaction with an extra ingredient in the concoction.

And look, I could go on all day about this, but we got a long-ass movie to get back to. SO, lets jump back in. Part One is here!

Recap (2/2)

Understandably exhausted, K returns home, confused and conflicted. However, he’s greeted with a surprise from Joi: a prostitute! Namely, this is Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), one of the girls who approached him earlier. Joi’s called her here in order to be “real” for K, the effect is impressive, if somewhat...off-putting. Still, while K obviously didn’t need this to be happy with their relationship, Joi might, and Mariette’s all on board.

And it doesn’t take K terrible long to get on board, either. As both Mariette and Joi strip, it makes me wonder...how much does this subscription service for Joi cost. There’s no goddamn way this is free, right? Like, how exclusive IS this AI? And they cut from that scene to a Joi commercial, where we hear that Joi becomes anything you want her to be, and does anything you want her to do. But something tells me that...well, that it’s not quite so simple.

Once the night is over, Joi tells Mariette to leave, and not nicely either. Mariette leaves, rebuking her on the way out as well. K, meanwhile, knows that the Blade Runners will soon be coming after him. He’ll be going on the run, and Joi wants to go with him. And so, they put her inside of a remote device, while deleting her information from the main apartment console. This gets the attention of Luv, who head over to the apartment to figure out what’s going on.

K goes to Doc Badger (Barkhad Adbi), who analyzes the horse for him. It’s discovered that old radiation can be found there, and that amount and kind of radiation can only be found in areas where a dirty bomb has been set off. This would be in the desolate and weird-ass ruins of Las Vegas. While nobody lives there at this point, K and Joi go to check it out.

An IMMENSELY frustrated Luv, unaware of K’s discovery about himself, goes to confront Joshi about K’s whereabouts. Luv berates her for being afraid of change, and tells her that she “can’t fend off the tide with a broom”. Which is a great line. However, as Joshi is no use to her at this point, Luv just straight up kills her. Which, I’m sure, will go over well with the whole “Replicants aren’t dangerous” thing.

Meanwhile, in Vegas...shit is WEIRD. First off all, the desolate wasteland is full of statues of giant sexy wimmin, and I mean GIANT statues. Beneath one of them is a series of beehives, which K goes into to get a hand of beeeees. After that, he goes into an abandoned hotel/casino, rigged with tripwires and booby traps. OK. What.

So, somebody’s using this place as a hideaway, despite the entire city being destroyed by a dirty bomb, and probably extremely radioactive. K searches around and finds it empty. He begins to play a piano, hoping to draw someone out. He ends up drawing out a dog, as well as the inhabitant of the hotel.

Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), baby! Quoting Stevenson’s Treasure Island and holding K up at gunpoint with dog at side is the original Blade Runner himself, Rick Fucking Deckard. God, I love this. Deckard hunts K down throughout the casino, where we see some trippy holograms, and the future of Vegas stageshows (probably).

The two fight, but eventually call a truce and decide to get a drink at the bar. K gets to it pretty quickly, and confronts Deckard on his potential child with Rachael. He confirms that Rachael was indeed pregnant by him, but he had never met his child. Which was the plan, to be fair. He wanted their child to be protected, not hunted down and eventually dissected.

Sometimes, to love someone...you gotta be a stranger.

To an old Frank Sinatra song, a forlorn K (now calling himself “Joe”) looks around, and sees carved wooden animals that resemble the horse that’s haunted his life and memories so much by this point. Which makes sense, considering the foil unicorn from the previous film. Neat little tie-in there.

But paradise is not all it’s cracked up to be, as someone soon comes to find both K and Deckard, despite the fact that K came alone. Although, now that I think about it, Joi may not be one that you can truly trust. Deckard and K try to escape their pursuers, but are caught pretty quickly. In the process, K is injured, but manages to get up in order to fight back. However, this is Luv with these people, and she beats K down EASILY. Turns out that Luv is actually an enforcer, rather than just a secretary. And when Joi awakens from K’s device to ask her to stop, well...she kills the device, and she kills K. In the process, she also takes Deckard away, leaving K behind. Fuck.

K wakes up, only to discover Mariette standing over him in the Las Vegas wasteland. She takes care of him as he wakes up, also stitching up with wounds from the explosion. She tells K to trust her, as well as her compatriots. One of them is the hooded woman from earlier, a Replicant named Freysa (Hiam Abbass). An old friend of Sapper’s she saw the delivery of the child, the “miracle”, and also hid the child away, as it was a symbol that the Replicants are more than just slave, that they are their own masters.

Freysa is building a revolution in order to free the Replicants once and for all. And I’m hard-pressed to disagree with their cause, not gonna lie. However, this comes at a price. In order to prevent Wallace from killing the cause, K must prevent Deckard from leading them to Freysa. They must do what they can until they can reveal the child to the world. For she will be their leader.

Fuck.

Understandably COMPLETELY crushed at this revelation, and more confused than ever, K collapses. Freysa tells him that they ALL wish they were the one, and they all believe. It’s at this point, that K realizes exactly who the Hybrid is: Dr. Ana Stelline. The horse from earlier, it turns out, did in fact belong to her, and she planted her childhood memory with the horse in K’s mind as a Replicant. Damn. DAMN! That’s why the memory moved her so: because it was hers.

Meanwhile, Deckard awakens to a separate nightmare: Jared Leto telling him how he feels about him. After all, Deckard helped to create the first Replicant-human hybrid. He asks him for his help in obtaining the child, so that the key of Replicant reproduction can be further unlocked. And he proceeds in convincing Deckard by playing audio of Rachael and his first meeting (from the first film, of course).

Niander fucks with him further, by suggesting Deckard was summoned all those years ago specifically to fall in love with Rachael in order to father a child with her. But despite all of this, Deckard refuses to give up any of his information. And so, Niander pulls out his ace-in-the-hole...and it’s a real shitty thing to do to a man in mourning. 

Damn. Dude rebuilt Rachael, tries to tempt Deckard with her, FAILS, then lets Luv shoot her in the head. Fucking power move, and fuck Niander for playing it. Dude is a DICK. Meanwhile. that one visual from every single ad of this movie is happening, and I can FINALLY use one of the 8000 GIFs of it, goddamn.

Not gonna lie, it’s an iconic appearance, so I get why it’s so famous. Anyway, K considers a suicidal option, now that he knows the truth. However, before we get to see the final decision, we get to see Deckard being taken back to LA for interrogation by Wallace. However, to prevent him from potentially leading Wallace to the secret of Ana Stelline, K suddenly appears, opening fire on their ship.

The craft is downed, and K exits the car to engage in a firefight with Luv. He appears to win, but Luv isn’t killed once she’s shot. The two have a fistfight out in the rain, and Deckard waits for water to slowly kill the craft that he’s still inside of.

As expected, Luv handles herself well, and despite a number of close calls, she JUST. WILL. NOT. DIE. Damn, she’s resilient. However, despite K, Luv, and Deckard all nearly drowning in an INTENSE fight between the Replicants, an enraged and crazed Luv finally eventually drowns, ending her threat for good. 

K saves Deckard from the sinking ship, and agrees to stage his death, allowing him to meet his daughter for the first time. Once at her facility, K returns Deckard’s horse to him, knowing that it was a gift from him. He tells Deckard that his best memories all come from her, implying that this makes him similar to Deckard’s son, which he picks up on when he asks if he’s OK.

Deckard goes to meet his daughter, and K hangs out on the stairs outside. He feels the snow fall on his hand, and he just...watches it all fall around him. He sits, and he watches it all. And meanwhile, Deckard meets his daughter for the first time.

...Can I just say...GODDAMN!

That movie was absolutely stellar, and it’s definitely landing in the high ‘90s for me, calling it now. I...wow. Seriously. Amazing.

See you in the Review!

#blade runner #blade runner 2049 #denis villeneuve #ryan gosling #harrison ford #rick deckard #deckard #ana de armas #dave bautista #jared leto #edward james olmos #robin wright #sylvia hoeks #science fction may #sci-fi may #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #jlugifs #usertilly #filmgifs

[flightsoffandom]

The Truth

(The Sitter Part 6)

Pairs: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 1980

Summary: Aaron and the BAU start working on your case. You find out the truth about what happened but you find something else out along the way.

Warnings: Mentions of reader’s family’s death, mentions of child death, mentions of blood

Notes: Left completely gender-neutral.  Collab Series I am doing with the ever amazing @less-intelligent-spencerreid If you are interested in being tagged in the future parts of this comment on this or send me an ask.  

Continuation of The Sitter: Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5–Part 6*

After the first night at Aaron’s, Penelope had offered to let you stay at her place. Derek also agreed to stay at Penelope’s as basically your bodyguard. Penelope tried really hard to make it like a sleepover. She always had fun movies to watch, junk food, and comfy blankets. So during the night, you could easily forget about your problems and worries for a few hours. It was when it was actually time for you to go to sleep that you had issues. Nothing against Derek, you hadn’t known him long but you trusted him. You just hadn’t been sleeping well at Penelope’s. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. The only time you had been able to get a decent amount of sleep with little to no nightmares was in Aaron’s office.

You woke up startled when Penelope walked into Aaron’s office. Your heart was racing as you sat up on the couch.

Penelope was talking a mile a minute holding a large stack of files in her hands, “It took some digging.” She walked over to Aaron at his desk, “Like some digging, digging. Had to partially hire the internet equivalent to a construction crew and use one of those scoopy excavator things to get through layers and layers of old murder cases from all over the country.”

You stare at the brightly colored woman who was being particularly loud. You tried to follow what Penelope was saying but she was talking so fast and your exhausted brain wasn’t letting you follow along, “What’s happening?”

Aaron was glaring at Penelope and you didn’t think it was just for her to get to the point, “Garcia!”

Penelope followed Aaron’s line of sight and landed on you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes trying to mentally catch up to what was happening.

Penelope made a face, “I am unbelievably sorry.” She didn’t give you a chance to reply before turning back to look at Aaron, “But I come bearing good…” Penelope makes an unpleasant noise, “Well not good actually, very terrible awful news but helpful.” Penelope finds the word she is looking for and continues, “I come bearing helpful news.” She gives an unsure shrug before handing the files over to Aaron.

Aaron looks over them, one by one. You tried to read his face but ever since Aaron took your case he seemed to only have two looks. Exhausted and determined, a lot of the times he was both at once. Penelope waited for some kind of reply.

Aaron got through the large stack of new files, “We need to bring these to the team.”

Penelope nodded and walked out of Aaron’s office to gather the rest of the team. Aaron grabbed the files and left as well. Leaving you behind for a moment. You wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep and you felt like you should know what was in those files. Even if you didn’t want to know was sort of despicable violence the killer stalking you was capable of. So you slide out of the office as well and slowly made your way to the meeting room, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. As soon as you made it to the doorway of the conference room, Aaron spotted you. He walked over, physically blocking you from getting into the room.

Aaron looked at you with concern in his eyes, “You don’t need to see this.”

If you shifted just right you could see around him and into the room. Letting you catch glimpses of crime scene photos and evidence bags. Aaron immediately figures out what you’re doing and shifts with you to block your line of sight.

You glare at Aaron, “I don’t really want to look at all that stuff but I need too. I can help.”

A few of the other team members walk past the two of you, Aaron moving to only let them through. The minor standoff earning you side glances from passersby.

Aaron shakes his head, gently placing a hand on your shoulder to both comfort you and keep you from moving into the room, “I’ll keep you updated and ask you questions when we need more information. For now, you should rest.”

You move just enough to see what is happening in the meeting. Seeing the team pull evidence bags out of boxes. When you see a pair of picture frames you are immediately stunned. No longer able to hear anything even if Aaron was still talking to you. Drawn to the objects you step backward out of Aaron’s grasp and then push your way passed him. Slowly approaching the table you could feel eyes on you but you didn’t care. When you get to the table you pick up the two separate evidence bags.

The bags were both filled with a picture frame. Each photo showing two ‘lasts’. One was the last family photo you ever took with, Mom, Dad, Sammy, and yourself. It had been one of those yearly family photos. Some cheesy fake background with tacky matching outfits but each of you had big genuine smiles on your faces. The happy atmosphere of the photo was ruined by the broken glass that had allowed blood to seep through and stain the paper. The other picture was just as badly damaged. It had been the last picture taken of just you and Sammy. You had been pushing Sammy on the swings and your parents had managed to catch it on film. What should have been a good memory was now stained just like the other one. The rusty-red color of dried blood ruining some of the few good memories you had left of your family.

You finally started to gain some awareness again. You placed both bags onto the table before retreating back. Exiting the meeting room just as quickly as you had entered it. You had thought you were ready to look back at this evidence and even thought you could emotionally handle it. Seeing those pictures again however had proved you wrong. You make it back into Aaron’s office before you start crying. Seeing those happy memories with your family ruined by the same thing that had taken them away from you forever was too much. You had no idea what happened to the dozens of family photos that must have been in the house. The year after their murder was a blur and when you had finally came too you had just written off ever having a picture to remember them by. You cover your face with your hands before letting yourself fall back onto the couch. Letting yourself sob into the palms of your hands.

You don’t hear the door open. You feel Aaron rubbing your back and you look at him.

“You were right, I should have listened to Aaron. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize y/n, I know you just want to help.”

When you were calmed down he said, “I’m going to go help my team. We’ll catch this guy”

***

“Okay, the focus is clearly on the kids. With the vase and the birthday,” Morgan starts, thinking out loud. “I have an idea.” He said, calling Garcia in her office.

“You’ve reached the office of supreme genius, speak, and be dazzled.” 

“Hey baby girl, I need you to get me a list of kids that died on their birthdays. I need it to be between 20 and 30 years ago.”

“Unfortunately, my chocolate thunder, that is a list of 27.”

“Cross it with kids that have an older brother that is still living. Also, look for suspicious hospital visits for both kids before the death.”

“One! Max Davis died on their birthday. They apparently fell off of a roof. Both Max and their older brother Jordan Davis had multiple hospital visits before Max’s death and Jordan’s continued their’s afterwards.

“Thanks Garcia.” He said hanging up the phone and going to find Hotch.

****

You’re standing in the observation room with Rossi while Hotch and the UnSub, Jordan Davis, are in the interrogation room. Hotch got a confession which ended with the UnSub yelling, “I couldn’t protect Max and these people couldn’t protect their younger siblings! It’s their own faults!”

Agents from a different unit came and took Davis into custody. Aaron came into the observation room and Rossi left. The two of you walked up to his office. He wrapped his arms around you and you put your face in his shoulder, tears running down your face.

“It’s okay y/n, you’re safe, we got him.”

He held onto you until you stopped crying and you pulled away. He looked at you with soft eyes, “Are you okay?”

You nod at him and respond, “It still hurts, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.” 

You offer him a small, genuine small. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He returned your small smile.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” You asked him, knowing he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Sure. Do you want to-uh make it a date?” He replied carefully.

“Do I-yes I would love to.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture. 

He grabbed his bag the two of you walked out of his office and to the elevator. Once you got out, he wrapped his free arm around your shoulder. It was warm and comfortable. He opened the passenger door of his vehicle for you. 

****

You had both ordered and there was a lull in the conversation. 

“Why were you so surprised when I asked you for a date?” He asked.

You blushed and said, “I may have overheard your conversation with Rossi.”

He chuckled and you let out a small laugh. “He could tell I was lying you know.”

You smiled. You seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Well, I’m glad you were.”

Just then the waiter arrived with your food. The two of you ate and continued talking. When you were both done, he paid the check. You tried to convince him to split it but he refused. 

“At least let me get dessert then?” You wanted to repay the favor, but you also wanted the night to last as long as possible.

“What do you have in mind?” He asked as the two of you walked outside.

“We could walk to the ice cream shop that’s a few blocks away.”

“Sounds perfect.”

****

At the ice cream shop you ordered a waffle cone with cotton candy ice cream and he got a waffle cone with cookies and cream ice cream. After you paid you decided to take a longer way back to his car as you ate them. You talked and laughed with him the entire time. 

He drove you home and walked you to your door. Before walking inside you turned around to face him. 

“Goodnight Aaron.” You said as you looked up at him. 

“Goodnight y/n.” The two of you held eye contact for a little while before he leaned in. He stopped just short of your lips, looking into your eyes for approval. You gave him a small nod and he gently cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours. They were warm and smooth. It lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away and took a breath. Your hands were on the back of his head and you gently pulled him back towards you. The second kiss was longer and deeper than the first. He tasted sweet from the ice cream. This time you pulled away, needing to breathe.

“Wow.” Was all you said once you caught your breath.

He smiled at you and nodded slowly. 

“Goodnight y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and said “Goodnight.” 

He walked back to his car to leave as you walked inside your house.

Continuation of The Sitter: Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5–Part 6* 

Tags: @shrimpyblog @hommoturttle @winterscaptain @jovialtimetravelgladiator  @lex-is-a-shipper @cypherthetransmasc @winterparkers @1234-angelika @thosesteelblueeyesaremysafeplace

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #gender neutral #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #gender neutral reader #hotch x reader #reader insert #slow burn #series #aaron hotchner #fanfiction #fanfic #collab #TheSitterCollab

[quietlyimplode]

@whumptober2020 - Day 20 - Lost

Day 1 - Waking Up Restrained // Day 2 - Kidnapped // Day 3 - Manhandled // Day 4 - Caged// Day 5 - Rescue // Day 6 - No More // Day 7 - Support // Day 8 - Isolation // Day 9 - Take Me Instead // Day 10 - Blood Loss/Trail of Blood // Day 11 - Psych 101 // Day 12 - Broken Down // Day 13 - Oxygen Mask // Day 14 - Alternative Prompt - Comfort // Day 15 - Into The Unknown // Day 16 - A Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day // Day 17 - Wrongfully Accused // Day 18 - Paranoia // Day 19 - Survivors Guilt // Day 20 - Lost

Short one today, cause honestly; I’m tired. Clint doesn’t feel up to the task of helping Natasha.

He makes the decision to go see the therapist after she discloses a dream she had. Nightmare really, that’d left them both reeling and no one getting any sleep. He hadn’t known what to say and had just hugged her close feeling woefully under qualified, and out of his depth with dealing. Lost, was probably a more apt way of describing them both that night. 

——-

Natasha’s been in therapy all week, every second day, 4pm like clockwork. She’s also been irritable and distant. The morning starts ok, but as the session draws closer she becomes more withdrawn, prefers her own company. He makes a point however to walk her there and wait til she’s done to walk her back and eat dinner together. She never talks much afterwards and he knows she’s mulling over things whether that be what’s been discussed or what she’s disclosed. He’s really not sure how to help her, how to make this process easier for her; for both of them. It’s hard work, not that he’d ever tell her that.

.

He’s called out on a mission with Steve, an easy protect the dignitary kind of mission that is a cakewalk in their business, he helps be Steve’s eyes from above. They’re in an out in less than 12 hours and he’s back in time to walk her to the office. When she gets out, they eat together, says goodnight and heads straight to bed, exhausted. He sleeps into the next day, and wakes up more tired than ever. Today isn’t a therapy day for Natasha, but he keeps the same routine of going to see her and hanging out. Some days he thinks she’s sick of him, others he knows she appreciates it.

.

He makes the decision to go see the therapist after she discloses a dream she had. Nightmare really, that’d left them both reeling and no one getting any sleep. He hadn’t known what to say and had just hugged her close feeling woefully under qualified, and out of his depth with dealing. Lost, was probably a more apt way of describing them both that night. He knows Natasha tries not to sleep, knows she puts it off. Knows she has been prescribed sleeping meds by the therapist but he’s not prepared to tell her to take them, but maybe if he had more skills around how he should deal, what he could say, then maybe he can help. They’re almost 3 weeks post incident, 2 weeks since her self imposed isolation and a week into therapy and he hasn’t stopped once. Tired is an understatement. But whose going to protect her if he doesn’t?

.

He tells her of his decision in the morning and she nods.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. “I’ll try harder.” She says

He waves her off.

“This isn’t about you.” At least he doesn’t think so.

“Do you want to come with me?” She says abruptly.

“What?”

“Come with me. To therapy. Hear what she makes me do.. Say? Think about? I don’t know. It might give some context about.. Me, I guess.” She pauses.

“Why I am the way I am.”

“Nat.” He starts.

She cuts him off.

“I’ve been thinking about it. You think I don’t notice? I see everything Clint. You think I don’t see how tired you are? That you push your self to come with me and wait for me? That you come from a mission - that I don’t have your back on by the way, and you still make time for me. Get dinner for me. Hang with Me. I’m trying hard to just let you, but it’s taking all of me to stay here. I want to run and lick my wounds in private but I know that I can’t. Know it might end up like.. Before.” She’s facing him now, wanting to be clear. Emphasize the importance of him.

“Last week, you saved me from myself, I don’t want to go back to that.”

She takes a breath but isn’t finished. “I also don’t want you to break yourself whilst saving me. So anything I can do to help you, I want to do it.” Natasha glances up. Holds his hand in hers.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

“Yeah.” He says. “I’d like that.”

——-

#whumptober2020 #day 20 #lost #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #clintasha fic #clint/nat

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 13

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, Wen Meilin (OC), Fourth Uncle, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs

Summary: Wei Wuxian has a difficult start to the day, Lan Wangji learns something he didn't expect, and Wen Qing oversees a unique medical experiment.

Notes: Intended to get further in this, but was at a good stopping point and already over 3K words. We don’t know a whole lot about Wei Wuxian’s time with the Wen in Burial Mounds. While it’s unlikely he dealt with near-possession, the shift of Lan Wangji staying changed a lot of things. They could afford more crops, so he had to clear the resentment from more land. That combined with the emotional exhaustion from talking to Lan Xichen left him open. Unintended consequences.

AO3 link

Chapters:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

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

Wei Ying, when Lan Wangji wakes him for breakfast in the morning, is alarmingly withdrawn. His eyes are hazy, unfocused. He barely reacts when Lan Wangji places his bowl of breakfast in his hands, and ultimately he feeds him. It is a slow process, Wei Ying sometimes needing prompting. 

If not for his reluctance to leave his husband alone in such a state, he would go looking for Wen Qing. Instead he focuses on feeding him and having him drink the medicine Wen Ning brought with breakfast. 

By the time she arrives, Wei Ying has slipped back to sleep. 

“It’s the pain, and probably one of his bad days on top of it,” she tells him when he asks. 

Wei Ying, he learns, often sequesters himself from the others, sometimes not leaving the cave for several days. He spends that time feverishly inventing cultivation tools.

“It’s a distraction,” she says, sounding tired. “Whatever is going on in his mind, he’s trying to distract himself from it however he can—he’d probably numb himself with alcohol if we had it.”

Nightmares, Lan Wangji is certain, and the trauma of his experiences, perhaps his own lack of self-worth driving a need to be useful through his inventions. 

If Wei Ying is suffering today, the pain prevents him from using his normal coping mechanisms. And Lan Wangji would rather he not use drinking as one—and he suspects Wen Qing feels similarly, as jifu has brewed more fruit wine. 

Since they’re waiting for Wen Ning to return with the bathtub so the hot water can ease Wei Ying’s pain a bit before they try their musical acupuncture experiment, Wen Qing leads him to a nearby stone “table” covered in papers. They’re haphazard, scrawled half-ideas interrupted by new ones, occasional doodles, a true mess. There’s no organization even within one page, only a sort of jumble of thoughts in smeared ink. 

Lan Wangji hates the idea that his husband’s mental state could mirror those pages on his bad days. 

“He hasn’t had one of his bad days since you came,” she says, her tone approving. “You’re good for him. Yesterday was just… a lot.”

He can only nod in response; it had been difficult for him, as well, but Wei Ying had bared a secret he had not willingly told anyone, had made himself vulnerable—and at Lan Wangji’s request. Even had he not suffered the near-possession, today may have been a bad day for him regardless. 

“I’ll put together a sachet for the bath, something to relax his muscles and ease the pain,” Wen Qing says. “Let him sleep until A-Ning gets back.”

He returns to Wei Ying’s side when she leaves. He is pale and still as he sleeps, his lips parted slightly as he breathes, his breath easy and calm. The dark circles under his eyes are still prominent, and Lan Wangji hopes it is a healing sleep.

Lan Wangji spends a shichen meditating beside Wei Ying while keeping attuned to him in case his sleep is disturbed. Wen Ning returns, carrying a large bathtub already filled as though it weighs nothing, and carefully sets it down without sloshing the water over. 

“I cannot use t-talismans anymore,” the young man says, almost in apology. “Jiejie put a sachet in already. She said t-to only let him soak for a quarter shichen, then have him drink water.”

“Thank you, Wen Ning.”

He rises and bows, and Wen Ning makes a disgruntled sound. 

“Y-you shouldn’t bow t-to me, Lan-er-gongzi!”

Lan Wangji shakes his head.

“You are helping my husband,” he says.

“I would help him anyway.”

“All the more reason to show you courtesy.”

Wen Ning seems to recognize Lan Wangji will not budge on this issue, and finally just nods.

“Jiejie said she would check on him in half a shichen, and to t-try the acupuncture idea.”

Lan Wangji has little choice but to accept Wen Ning’s bow before he leaves; protesting it would be hypocritical. 

After affixing a warming talisman to the tub, he turns his focus back to Wei Ying. He tries to wake him pleasantly, with soft murmurs and touches, and after a few minutes rouses him enough to explain about the tub.

Wei Ying is barely able to help when Lan Wangji undresses him, only just awake. He frowns to find bruises on his skin that hadn’t been there the night before. He hoped Wen Qing would know what had caused them.

He knows his robes will just get wet, so he strips himself to his zhong yi trousers.

He doesn’t bother trying to get Wei Ying to walk once he is undressed, just scoops him into his arms and carries him to the tub. Wei Ying lets out a soft moan as Lan Wangji lowers him into the hot water and settles him, careful to keep his braided hair out of the water. Wei Ying grabs his arm before he can completely withdraw from the water.

“Stay?” 

Lan Wangji can deny him nothing, so nods, settling beside the tub and holding Wei Ying’s hand under the water. The rising steam has an earthy mint aroma, and he hopes the bath and Wen Qing’s sachet of herbs are helping ease his pain.

“You’re always here for me,” Wei Ying murmurs, his voice distant, sleepy.

“I have not been before.”

He regrets that, seeing the pain his husband, his zhiji, has endured. He thinks perhaps it will always be a regret, having waited too long to support him. 

Wei Ying frowns at him, his eyes hazy. He draws Lan Wangji’s hand to his chest over his healed brand scar, over his heart. 

“You have. Here.”

“Wei Ying,” he breathes, overcome by the gesture. 

“Like that. I heard you, the first time. When I was here.”

Lan Wangji frowns, confused. Wei Ying’s eyes slide shut and he sighs softly.

“I thought it was the end, when they dropped me here. All that resentful energy howling at me all around, asking if I wanted revenge. I was ready to give up and just… let it end. But I heard you call my name. Your voice. I wanted to try to see you again.”

Wei Ying’s voice is barely audible at the end, and after several breaths Lan Wangji realizes he’s fallen back to sleep. He feels raw, knowing this, knowing Wei Ying tried to survive for him, to return to him, just to see him, expecting to be hated for what he had to do to survive. 

He curls closer to the tub and kisses the top of Wei Ying’s head, burying his face in his hair.

“I’m glad you did, Wei Ying,” he whispers. “I’m so glad you did.”

There is moisture in Wei Ying’s hair, and it takes a moment for Lan Wangji to realize it’s from his own tears. He has never doubted Wei Ying loves him, but the depth of his love is overwhelming, that Wei Ying refused to give up in the face of certain death for the chance to see him again. Even the spectre of Lan Wangji had comforted him in his lowest moment.

Lan Wangji simply holds his husband, as much as is possible separated by a wooden tub, and tries not to think. Tries not to wonder what might have happened had he not discovered Wei Ying’s secret, had he walked down the mountain and returned to Gusu as he had intended, had he left Wei Ying to suffer alone. Tries not to be angry with himself for having been so willing to abandon his husband for the sake of rules—what rule is worth more than Wei Ying?

Finally, he estimates it has been quarter shichen and he hooks an arm under Wei Ying’s knees, the other around his back, and lifts him out of the tub.

Wei Ying shivers in his arms, wrinkling his nose and letting out a whine at the chill of the air. Lan Wangji sets him on the embroidered blanket on the bed, wrapping him in it—the material will absorb the water, and he can hang it to dry later. Wei Ying’s features smooth over, and he stirs, murmuring his name. 

“I am here, airen. I will not leave you.”

Never again, he promises. Every time he leaves Wei Ying, terrible things happen to him. He will defend him, care for him, and keep him safe.

Wei Ying smiles sleepily at him.

“Did they get a tub for popo, too?” he asks.

Lan Wangji wants to clutch him close, this man who cares so much for others and yet so little for himself, but instead he pets his hair and leans in to kiss him softly.

“I did not ask.”

Wei Ying huffs softly, turning his head into Lan Wangji’s touch. 

“Hope they did. Bath was nice.”

He wonders if Wei Ying remembers what he said, his revelation, but he doesn’t address it. It does not need to be addressed. He knows now, and he will not forget. 

“Wen Qing added an herb sachet. How is your pain?”

“Tolerable,” Wei Ying murmurs with a soft hum.

Lan Wangji knows that could just as easily mean it is intolerable, but Wei Ying won’t admit it even if that is the case. Regardless, he must be feeling at least slightly better than before the soak—he is more present now. 

He remembers he was to have Wei Ying drink water and he pours a cup from a nearby ewer. He lifts Wei Ying into a sitting position and helps him drink, refilling the cup a couple of times until he’s sated. 

“We will attempt that musical acupuncture cultivation idea when Wen Qing comes,” he says, easing him back down. 

Wei Ying nods, but grimaces.

“Wei Ying?”

“Hate needles,” he murmurs. “That’s all.”

“I will be here with you.” 

It is all Lan Wangji can promise, but when Wei Ying smiles softly at him, he hopes perhaps it is enough.

Lan Wangji makes sure Wei Ying is dry within the blanket, then helps him into his zhong yi trousers—reluctantly, after Wei Ying looks at him through long lowered lashes and asks if it’s time for their every day. Had they had the time for it, without the threat of Wen Qing walking in on them, he wouldn’t hesitate.

He does not hesitate to kiss him breathless, to hold him close, and he hopes it is enough for now. 

He knows acupuncture will require Wei Ying to be mostly nude, so he only bothers him with the trousers for now, wrapping him back in the blanket and kissing him soundly. 

He is just finishing with the belt over his outer robe when Wen Qing enters carrying a basket.

“You look better than this morning,” she tells Wei Ying bluntly, and he laughs softly. 

“Your medicine and the herbal bath helped, Qing-jie.”

That elicits a smile from her, and she settles beside him on the bed. 

“He has bruises.”

Lan Wangji pulls back the blanket to show her, and is relieved when she only nods.

“His muscles spasmed violently when he was fighting the possession. They’ll heal, but there was damage.”

She turns to Wei Ying. 

“You made it worse for yourself, you know.”

Wei Ying looks away, frowning. 

“I didn’t know if she would hurt A-Yuan. I couldn’t risk it.”

Wen Qing’s expression softens, but she still huffs at him irritably. 

“And you wonder why he adopted you as his dad.”

She pulls a set of acupuncture needles from the basket, and if Wei Ying intended to protest her comment, he thinks better of it, eyeing the needles distrustfully. 

“I want to work on your back first,” she tells him. “Since we don’t know the effects, we’ll start slow and be careful. You need to let us know if it hurts, Wei Wuxian.”

He nods, still eying the needles. Lan Wangji helps him turn over, pooling the blanket over his lower body and tucking it around him to give him at least some warmth. He holds Wei Ying’s hand, hoping to offer comfort as Wen Qing inserts her needles.

Wen Qing stays fairly quiet as she works, simply letting them know she’s targeting muscles rather than meridians for the first stage of the experiments, hoping to determine whether a directed distribution of qi will accelerate the healing process.

“I don’t want to try the meridians just yet,” she says eventually. “It may flush out the resentful energy, and I don’t know how that would affect you. It might make you feel better, but...”

Lan Wangji thinks perhaps he understands her recalcitrance; Wei Ying has been cultivating resentful energy for so long, flushing it out could be a shock to his system. And, living in Burial Mounds, surrounded by resentful energy, it could easily just make him more vulnerable. 

He wishes he could take Wei Ying from here, take them all from here to a place less tainted by death. Perhaps that can eventually be accomplished, but for now he can do nothing. 

“I can’t lose hold of it,” Wei Ying murmurs. “Not and control the seal.”

A chill washes through Lan Wangji at the reminder of the weapon, that terrible dark tool that had won the war for the cultivation world, while making Wei Ying a target for the power-hungry. Lan Wangji knows such a tool must be hard to control—even spiritual tools can harm the user when a wielder cannot keep control. 

Wen Qing makes a face.

“I wish you’d destroy that awful thing.”

“Can’t. It’s a deterrent. And the backlash from destroying it would be pretty bad.”

Wei Ying sounds almost grieved, as though he would prefer to destroy it.

“If we could ward against the backlash?” Lan Wangji asks.

“It’s the only thing keeping us from being massacred at the moment,” Wei Ying says bitterly. “Otherwise I’d be all for it. The seal recognizes no master, and it’s too dangerous to exist.”

Lan Wangji frowns at the information, concerned. He wonders how much energy Wei Ying has been using to keep it under control—hasn’t, in fact, seen it since his arrival in Burial Mounds. He hopes his husband doesn’t carry it around with him.

Wen Qing finishes placing her needles and stands, and Lan Wangji squeezes Wei Ying’s hand before letting go to pull out his guqin. 

He decides to start with a minor healing song, something not terribly invasive, instilling his qi into the notes. Wei Ying’s breathing quickens, and Lan Wangji tries to keep his attention on the music, reminding himself that Wen Qing is the one with medical expertise, is the one monitoring. And, he notices, is directing the spiritual energy into the acupuncture needles.

“Pain?” she asks.

“No,” Wei Ying says, his voice strained. “It’s… warm. Good.”

Lan Wangji lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and turns his attention to the music, letting all his focus go to the task. Wei Ying is always cold, and he idly wonders if that’s what resentful energy feels like—cold. He remembers him shivering with fever in the cave after the battle with the Xuanwu, and wonders if that was more than fever, if perhaps that was in part the cold of the resentful energy from the sword. 

Wen Qing eventually touches his shoulder, and he stills his strings. She gestures toward Wei Ying. At a glance, he can already see the bruising has faded. He takes Wei Ying’s hand again and finds his husband is sound asleep, his face utterly relaxed. 

“I’d call that a success, at least tentatively,” Wen Qing comments.

She takes Wei Ying’s other wrist, clearly examining his meridians.

“It didn’t clear out much resentment, but that’s expected given we were targeting his muscles. It may have cleared out some of what’s seeped into his body, which would be good.”

“It’s seeped into his body?” Lan Wangji asks, trying not to be alarmed.

She nods, sighing, and begins the process of removing her needles.

“It’s damaging, of course. He doesn’t complain, but we try not to ask him to do too much. He’s probably in some level of pain constantly, and the possession made it worse. I hope this helps.”

Lan Wangji wishes he had known, but also knows there’s little he could have done if he had. Throughout the war, he had watched Wei Ying, taken in his increasingly pinched features, his tense posture, his temper. He had worried it was the resentful energy, and he finds it doesn’t make him happy to have been right. Wei Ying had felt he had to suffer it alone, and now remains quiet about his pain. Perhaps his constant pain contributes to his bad days, as well. 

He can see the difference now, how his muscles are relaxed in a way they haven’t been even when Wei Ying slept. 

“I think letting him sleep before another session is best,” Wen Qing comments as she removes the last of her needles. “It will allow us to see the impact later.”

He nods, and pulls the blanket up around Wei Ying’s shoulders, tucking it around him—even if the qi warmed him, it would be temporary.

Wen Qing placed the needles back in her basket and stood.

“If he’s up for another round in the afternoon, we’ll try it. I’ll sterilize these just in case.”

She bows, and Lan Wangji returns it as best as he can seated beside Wei Ying and holding his hand. 

“I’ll send A-Ning with lunch later. Also, I think one of the aunties will be by to fit you for clothing.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” he asks, though he’s reluctant to leave Wei Ying. 

Wen Qing quirks a smile.

“As I told you when you said you were staying, I want you to help Wei Wuxian. He needs your help more than we do.”

He nods, and she leaves, closing the curtains behind her.

Lan Wangji watches Wei Ying sleep for a long while before deciding he can perhaps help him in other ways. He leaves the alcove and returns with a sheaf of Wei Ying’s disorganized and messy notes, setting it on the table beside the bed. Within minutes he transforms the small table into a desk, fresh paper and ink ready for him to work.

At the very least, he can rewrite Wei Ying’s notes, using separate sheets of paper for the different ideas so he can work with them more easily. He has copied and rebound books for the library at Cloud Recesses, after all, and Wei Ying once complimented his calligraphy. Even now, the memory makes his ears heat, as it was very shortly followed by the porn incident. 

Of course, they’ve done what was displayed in that book multiple times, so the memory is less embarrassing and more arousing. 

With one last glance at Wei Ying peacefully slumbering next to him, he gets to work. 

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #chen qing ling #CQL #my fanfiction #wangxian #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #wei wuxian #wei ying #wen qing #wen ning #lan zhan #lan wangji

[glamrayvision]

A WIP oneshot

This was intended as horror but immediately turned into crack, what can I say?

I will post the whole thing when I'm done, along with some art.

Warning for cursing and menton of covid.

Summary: A young adult Miraculous Ladybug fanartist gets a suprise when her drawing of Chat Blanc comes to life! But as a student of Zoom university in the middle of 2020, nothing scares her anymore. So she thought.....

FANART

'Hmmm' I think to myself.

14 year old me would be proud. College girl me is absolutely disappointed in the way I drew his hands (ya know, the blob with sad excuses of tentacles) , but hey. The only artists who can draw hands probably have divine powers anyway. However, the other eye looks pretty rad.

Chat Blanc is the first thing I drew in this sketchbook. I got it for a quarter at a thrift store. Yes I'm bragging. Everything I own cost me less than $10, and that is a peak accomplishment, even more so than drawing two cat eyes correctly on an angry human face. But I digress.

Am I too old for this fandom? If you say yes I dare you to pry it from my cold dead hands.

I put away my art supplies, neatly for once in my life, and scrub the oil pastel and charcoal residue from my fingers. Chat Blanc looks at me, sprawled across the kitchen table, aiming his cataclysm at me.

"Meow!" I drop finger guns at him, laughing at myself.

My phone buzzes. It's my student portal. "Glad to see I'm still failing calculus " I say with all intended sarcasm. "Perks of Zoom university!"

I set my alarm clock for my 8 AM class and plop on my pillow.

My insomnia haunts me

And I am out like a light!

------

"Fuck you!"

It does nothing, its screams only get louder.

And louder.

And louder.

After fumbling for the off button on my alarm clock for ten minutes I decide to just rip the plug from the socket. It's not a problem anymore!!!

Another ten minutes to get me out of bed.

Then I crawl to the kitchen, with nothing but a tank top and underwear. Thank God I live alone off campus.

I grab a yogurt from the refrigerator. It takes another five minutes to realize that my sketchbook from last night is completely empty.

Another two to notice the cat boy on the ceiling light fixture.

Another five seconds to drop my yogurt and scream.

"What the- what the fuck!!!"

"Hi there! "He says with a goofy, toothy grin.

What does a completely rational person do in this situation?

No, she doesn't call the police or anything.

She gets dressed and logs onto her Zoom meeting.

Because if public school taught me anything, its that being late is more anxiety inducing than your supervillain fanart coming to life and invading your house.

As I go to my desk to turn on my computer, Chat Blanc sits behind me.

"Ain't you got shit to do?" I say with the fury of a zombie teenager. I log into the meeting.

"Not really " he shruggs. "What class is this?"

"Engineering "

Uh oh. He has an idea. "Can we turn on the camera?"

"Why?"

"I'm lonely " Chat whines.

It's way too early in the morning for this shit. "Look, we can go to the grocery store and get ice cream later. But now I have to go to class and pretend to be awake enough to care"

"Fine" For some reason he crawls on the couch and sits like an actual cat, ready to pounce. "You're no fun. I'm probably gonna accidentally destroy this world too, ya know. " Chat begins yo sniffle. "I miss Ladybug!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Fuck it I'm never gonna focus like this. Besides, I'm the reason he's here. And I don't want to bear any resemblance to his father. I put down by pen and grab some tissues. "It's ok, kitty. You'll see her again. I'm sure of it"

"You're not" he growled. "Everything from my world is... gone "

"I won't pretend to understand, but-"

"No you don't understand! " he pushes me off. The Akuma is controlling him now, I'm sure. As much as Adrien keeps trying to fight back, he must be exhausted, poor thing!

Chat Blanc stands up, his feet grounded in attack and a cataclysm glowing at his fingertips.

"Cataclysm this stupid pandemic, will ya? " I grumble as I dodge the blast, letting my wall take it instead. My land lord is gonna be a frickn disaster once he sees this. Oh well.

The dust settles as my worst nightmare comes to life!

My Zoom camera and and microphone have somehow turned on!!!

My tears begin to fall as he corners me with another cataclysm ready. A supervillain I can handle. Online video social interaction is a horror movie. Now everyone can see me crying like the 2 year old I am. Great.

"Shhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttt!!!!!!" I make a dash for my computer. Chat leaps in front of me. I screech to a halt.

"Where's Ladybug!!!!"

"In Paris in an alternate timeline, you dumbass cat! Why don't you chill so I can help you!!!" I sob.

My class stares in complete horrified silence.

I grab a broom.

"LET "

Smack!

"ME"

Smack!

"SHOWER"

Smack!

"YOU"

Smack!

"WITH"

Smack!

"LOVE!!!!"

"Never!" He snaps the broom in half.

In desperation I grab my car keys on the counter. There's a lazer light attached. "Please God let this work! "

I turn it on and point it twards the hole in the wall.

His ear perks up and he attacks the red dot! Yes!

As he discracts himself I apologize to my class for "my insane cat" and turn off the video and sound.

I release the button on the lazer pointer.

Sinister blue eyes point twards me. I wonder if I should call animal control. His claws are sharp, all fours digging into the wooden floor.

He smirks at me.

Pounce!

His arms wrap around me tightly when he lands "A friend! A friend! I miss having friends!"

I hug him back. Despite what just went down, I still want to help this kid. Chat is baby!

#chat blanc au #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #miraculous fanfic #chat noir angst #chat blanc #ml #what is this monstrosity #wip #mlb wip #i'm dying #chat is baby #miraculous crack

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Fifty-Six “The day I killed love” Part One

Hello everybody, how are you? Here is chapter Fifty-six of my Story Bodyguard, yay!! I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

Trigger Warning: Violent and difficult scenes in this chapter.

                –––––––––––––––––––––––

Bagdad - 2005

A stabbing pain that diffuses in my two arms.

Discomfort around my wrists.

I slowly come back to reality, emerging from a daze between loss of consciousness and sleep. 

Regular and lively drumming against my temples.

I hardly open my eyes.

Black.

Nothing but black around me.

I blink several times while being aware of my position.

I realize that I am on my knees: I immediately initiate a movement to move and get up.

But my attempt is in vain.

I take a look at myself.

I notice first of all that I am shirtless. But the most worrying is elsewhere.

My feet are held in place by metal ties around my two ankles.

My arms are raised above my head, my hands tied tightly to two chains hanging from the ceiling.

I struggle, exhausting myself after a few seconds, managing to move my arms without freeing myself.

I take a deep breath and turn my head right and left, my eyes getting used to the darkness around me. I’m in an empty room, simple gray walls all around me.

No windows.

Just a faint streak of light that escapes beneath a surface I guess is the door.

The cell door where I am kidnapped.

I focus on trying to remember what may have happened… which may explain why I find myself so feet and hands tied…

A click of the key suddenly disturbs the silence.

Voices echoing behind the door, speaking in Arabic, but impossible for me to spot a single word…

A key that someone slips into a lock.

Then a dull creak and a light that blinds me for a few seconds.

Three silhouettes stand out against the light and advance into the room. My eyes attacked and dazzled, end up fixing on the faces that face me from now on.

Three faces that I recognize immediately.

Saïd Alawi, number 2 in the Iraqi terrorist branch, accompanied by his loyal lieutenant Omar Sawira. The latter seems to hold the hands of the one who stares at me, with a frightened look… wet eyes.

- Have you regained your senses?

I do not answer, focused on the woman who is by their side… trouble by her presence and her emotion.

- We thought that a little company could be useful to us… resumes Saïd, in a firm voice, his accent supporting each of the words.

- If we can’t make you talk, she can probably do it, don’t you think?

He sifts slightly and reveals a whip he was holding behind his back.

- My dear, you have the honor… we will see how much an American special agent can resist pain… when it comes from the hand of his loved one…

I immerse my gaze in that of Yasmina, who observes me, panicked.

- Don’t be shy, I show you once, it’s very simple, continues Saïd.

He immediately brandished the whip and strikes it vigorously in my direction. The whip immediately falls on my chest and lacerates my skin, diffusing an intense burn, as if we brought my flesh to light… I grit my teeth, so as not to reveal to him the intense pain I experience…

- Your turn, Yasmina…

- No, I can’t, she whispers, tears in her eyes while Omar pushed her and releases her hands.

- If you do not, I will be happy to make pretty scars on your little angel face, Saïd whispers in her ear while sliding a knife against her skin. And it suffices for Owen to reveal to us where the headquarters of the United Nations forces are and your little nightmare ends…

- Owen, tell them, don’t force me, begs Yasmina in a heartbreaking voice while Saïd forcibly places the whip in her hand.

- I can’t Yasmina… excuse me for hiding my real job from you… for putting you in this situation… I didn’t think they would involve you…

- Hit him now, Saïd continues.

She stays motionless, whip in hand for long seconds. 

Saïd then slaps her already losing patience, while shouting in her face in Arabic. 

She screams under the violence of the terrorist’s blow.

I struggle, vainly trying to react and oppose, but I only manage to vibrate my chains in a metallic rattle.

- You understand better like that…

Yasmina’s arm then rises trembling and timidly: a second whip, much less lively than the first, falls on my ribs.

- If you hit him harder, he’ll end up talking and we will let you go, Saïd says.

Yasmina hits me again with a little more conviction. I close my eyes, while I hear her crying, so as not to see her in this state, in this position…

- أقوى! (harder!)

The punches are non-stop.

The pain intensifies… and after a dozen punches, I can no longer contain the pain for myself. The piercing sound of the whip in the air is associated with cries that escape me… to release my suffering. To keep me faltering.

The sweat on my forehead. Intense heat gradually invades me… I feel like I’m losing touch with reality… until I lose consciousness… escaping to sweeter memories.

.

Two days earlier.

The warmth of a body along my side.

A silhouette that I draw with my fingertips, my caresses run through her chest, her belly before finding her legs.

Her breath quickens slightly, her close eyelids vibrate and activate subtly.

I memorize her face: every detail of her features, the smoothness of her skin, the slightest mole that adorns her image.

I smile unconsciously seeing her move a little more and slowly emerge from a deep sleep.

.

Woken up an hour ago, I can’t wait for her to regain consciousness.

I look one last time at the object I keep in the palm of my hand.

Before hiding it again by closing my palm.

My decision is obvious.

The moment is perfect…

- Hello, she announces in a weak voice, opening the eyelids with difficulty, her gaze directed towards mine.

- Hello pretty, I answer slipping a kiss on her neck.

- Hmm, you seem much more awake than me, she says in a lighter voice, while sliding a hand behind my neck, while I position myself side above her.

- I have been awake for a while…

- Why? Did you have trouble falling asleep? I would have thought that I had tired you however, she specifies with a smile.

- I need more to get tired you know, Yas… I explained with a challenge in my voice.

- What happens then? She continues, straightening up in bed. 

She detaches her hand from my neck to protect her chest with the sheet.

I sit in turn against the headboard.

I feel the weight of the object in my hand. A reminder that rekindles my conviction, my desire to cross the course.

- For a few days, I think about it… and this morning, when I woke up, everything seemed so clear to me… so logical, so obvious… what is the use of waiting in the end?

- Wait for what?

I smile watching her, eyes wide open, revealing her misunderstanding.

I detach my right hand, hidden under the sheets, and place it against the fabric.

- Yasmina, look where we are. A country at war. A place where every daily task leads us to risk our lives. Meeting you is so unexpected… and so precious to me. Time is a luxury we don’t have in Iraq. And you know it better than me, after all, that you lived in this magnificent country which is yours.

I pause, to prepare my next words.

Yasmina stares at me intensely, but don’t interrupt me this time.

The intensity of the moment is imperceptibly inscribed around us.

- I love you with all my heart…you put so much light in my life… a life marked to you by loneliness and pain… now I don’t want a life in black and white anymore, I want a life in color… thanks to you… with you…

I take a quick breath and discover my right hand to present the symbol I hid there.

- Yasmina Elassid, do you want to be my ray of sunshine today and for the days, weeks, years that this life will give us?

- You mean that…

- Do you want to marry me? I say, interrupting her before her incredulous air.

Her gaze widens a little more, focusing on my face then on this ring that I proudly hold in the palm of my hand. 

My mother’s engagement ring: this ring symbolizing infinity… the infinity of a bond… the infinity of love… to life, to death… a death lurking around us at all times, here in Baghdad.

I hang on the slightest of her reactions, her breath, her lips.

Her gaze is raised and finds mine. A spark arises within her two dark green pupils and a smile grows on her sweet face.

- Yes, she whispers finally.

I smile back at her and slide this ring to her left ring finger which marks a new stage in our history. I hardly succeed Yasmina’s finger being slightly wider than the original size of the ring. We are both laughing as I struggle to run the jewel on her finger a few more millimeters.

- It will be necessary to review the size a little, she specifies, continuing to laugh.

- You have to know how to suffer to be Mrs. Hunt, I replied, tearing my hand off after having finally put the ring on her finger.

- Indeed, Mr. Hunt, she whispers, sliding her hand behind my neck to offer me a deliciously passionate kiss.

.

Footsteps rise in the distance.

I regain consciousness painfully, my sore body bringing me directly to the dark reality of my situation.

How much time has passed?

A few hours? A few days? I have no idea…

I immediately notice that my position is different.

I’m now sitting on the floor.

But a constant element: my hands are still shackled. Tied behind my back, to a chain fixed this time to the ground.

Light is revealed behind my eyelids: I open my eyes discovering around me, a large room bathed in daylight.

Two jeeps are parked at the back of the room.

The tables and chairs are arranged here and there.

Some tables are covered with piles of paper others with bulky cardboard.

Other rooms can be guessed beyond the doors and openings recessed at different locations in the walls.

I’m obviously in a building of the terrorist factions, a strategic place, where they probably prepare their operations.

They moved me… out of the cell I was in, but for what reason? And why here?

I lower my head and see my chest displays the marks of the whip that have been inflicted on me: vivid traces, some of them bloody, that covers my sides… scars that will stay with me forever…

Echoes of steps are more lively and I gradually see silhouettes becoming more precise at the back of the room.

Saïd and Omar thus move forward with a determined and assured approach. This time they are accompanied by two other men who held Yasmina firmly by the arm.

Her image makes my heart: her disheveled hair, her features drawn. Her face has lost all its usual glow.

They all stop a few steps from me. I notice that the two men holding Yasmina, keep her close to a table, always by staring at me.

- Physical torture doesn’t seem like a good method on you, Saïd announces in a mocking tone. I supposed that the training that you followed taught you resistance to pain… but there are pains which I am sure, you have not been trained…

I sit up slightly against the wall against which I rest, to try to regain a minimum of dignity.

- And what did you think Saïd? I ask in a rocky voice but revealing an assertive touch of disdain.

He approaches me and bends down to my height, staring at me… a slight grin taking place on his lips.

- A much more effective method to make you speak… and Yasmina will be even more useful to us… he specifies in a voice full-on innuendo.

He gets up and then turns his back to me, addressing his men. Yasmina who heard the mention of her first name looks at me terrified.

I try to send her all my reassurance.

But deep down, I’m terribly worried… I know all too well that they are capable of anything and especially the words.

- Tear off her blouse and lift her skirt.

Saïd’s order makes my blood curdle.

I note with fright that the two men on both sides of Yasmina hold her with one hand, using their free hand to execute Saïd’s requests.

I observe Yasmina struggling and burst into tears, while her clothes are being bluntly undone.

- Saïd, what are you thinking of doing? I exclaim feeling the anger rising in me.

Without a word, Saïd undoes the belt of his trellis and throws it to the ground next to him.

He then turns to me, while taking a step towards Yasmina, still sobbing in front of him.

- Do you want me to draw you a picture, maybe? He asks with mocking air. If not I can present the concept to you… have it off with your fiancée before your eyes, can you bear it, Mr. special agent?

I draw on my links, in rage by becoming fully aware of what he plans to do.

Saïd now stands facing Yasmina and unequivocally lets his hands caress the skin of her legs until he places his hands firmly against her hip.

- Stop, don’t touch her! I shouted, at his attitude.

- You know what you need to do for me to stop, Saïd continues, sliding his fingers under the seam of Yasmina’s panties.

- Owen, I beg you… tell him, Yasmina implore between two tears.

- Stop Saïd… I will tell you everything.

The words escape me.

I was able to control my body… but I cannot control my human reactions…

See the one I love mistreated and abused by another man, it’s stronger than me.

Stronger than all the oaths I have been able to take. 

Stronger than anything. 

Finally, reasonable words, Saïd exclaims, detaching himself from Yasmina immediately. 

He waves his men who cover the one that had become the center of the world for me, by lowering her skirt and closing her blouse.

- You have my full attention Owen, Saïd says. So this famous secret base? And don’t you dare bamboozle us…

The faces of my teammates scroll through my head.

To reveal our base would be to seal their death sentence… my eyes find Yasmina: she literally begs me with my eyes and repeats me with the tip of her lips a “tell him” that makes me a little more bent

- Knowing the base will not solve your problems, Saïd… it will only save you a little time before other battalions are sent…

- Save time… that’s all I need right now… so give us this information before I decide to check out for myself what makes Yasmina so special… 

               –––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading. Stay safe and have a great week 💛

#bodyguard #greysanatomy #amelia shepherd #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #omelia #omelia fanfiction #omeliafics #Owen Hunt #fanfic #Fic

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Lost Weekends: Chemo Progress Report

Hi friends,

I'm writing you from my sofa, where I spend an increasing amount of time (much to the delight of the cat), at the end of my second post-chemo weekend. My last update was a month ago, right after I had done the considerable work of enrolling in the clinical trial at Penn that looks at treatment with chemotherapy and the immunological agent atezolizumab vs. just chemotherapy. My first session was on January 30th and I had a bit of good luck (for a change) and was randomized to the arm of the trial that got both the chemotherapy agent and the immunological agent, rather than the control group! (That's why I look improbably happy about my IV infusion in the attached photo.)

So far, the side effects are pretty tolerable. They don't really show up until days 2 or 3 which, since I go on Thursdays, pretty much means a Lost Weekend to symptoms. There's nausea, but I'm able to manage it with medication, and then there's very intense fatigue. I said to a friend at the outset of this trial that I consider myself a connoisseur of fatigue, having suffered chronic fatigue for years that was bad enough for them to do a bone marrow biopsy to verify that I didn't have cancer. (That's how I know I didn't have it in 2016.) This particular strain of fatigue is both familiar, in that the physical effects are undeniable and demand immediate rest, and unfamiliar because I get foggy-headed in a way I didn't before. Some folks refer to memory and concentration problems they encounter as "chemo brain," but I think this is less intense, more like being sleep deprived or a little sick. Honestly, the whole package is like having a bad flu. It lasts about 5 days and the symptoms are pretty similar. So, not great. But also not the worst. On this study, I go to Penn for treatment every 3 weeks. It takes all day, in part because when you get treated with a drug that's in trials they have to release it from the "experimental pharmacy," a process that can take multiple hours (as it did last Thursday). I'm really glad I only have to go every 3 weeks (plus visits for scans) and not every week, as I was doing before, both because it gives me the opportunity to recover from the side effects and have a bit more of a normal time in between visits. Also, they are a huge pain.

I know that may seem obvious, since chemo is clearly a terrible way to spend a day. But the truth is that it's actually less bad than the exhausting apparatus surrounding the visit. I tend, as usual, to minimize the more distressing aspects, both to myself and others, because it's just what needs to be done and, in a situation as colossally unfair as this one, the inconvenience or annoyance of actually going to the hospital pales in comparison. But, if you're curious, here's what it's like.

A day going to chemo for me starts pretty early since I live about 45 miles from Philadelphia and since I-95 is always terrible. Driving can take anywhere from an hour and ten minutes (without any traffic) to 2+ hours (if there's an accident). So if I'm supposed to check in at 8:30am I have to leave the house ideally by 6:30--which I NEVER manage to do because I have a lifelong hatred of mornings--but definitely before 7:00. This means getting up around 5:30 or 5:45. Again, I know people get up this early all the time, but if you know me you know that I am basically incapable of falling asleep before 1am (unless I'm very sick).

So I set out on this early venture, but not alone. I have an intrepid and sleepy friend with me to drive, both because I'm not allowed to drive myself home and because parking at the hospital is such a nightmare that often I have to hop out at a corner or intersection to make my appointment time. I did, however, learn that you get completely free parking if you get chemo! (This isn't true for other kinds of appointments.) My intrepid friend will meet up with me again in the cancer center and, usually, work remotely throughout the day while we sit in a series of chairs and check in with a series of doctors. I'm really grateful for this company because something that no one tells you about cancer is how incredibly boring it is a lot of the time.

The first medical thing that happens is that the nurses at the "infusion center" (which always sounds more pleasant than it actually is, as though it should come with scented oils) access the port through which they draw blood (usually about 10 tubes of it) and through which I'll receive chemo later. After they collect blood samples, I head to the waiting room for my oncologist, who I have to check in with before I can receive treatment. We have to wait for my blood tests to come back to prove that my body is functioning well enough for me to poison it. That sounds kind of backwards, but basically I have to have baseline body functions that are good enough for me to withstand chemo. (Oh, at some point they also do my vitals--height, weight, blood pressure, heart rate, oxygen saturation--which they'll collect again several times.) I also consult with my oncologist and the study coordinator about any side effects or questions and have a physical exam of the palpable tumors.

Next, assuming my numbers look good, I can check in for chemo. Penn has private rooms, which is different from the infusion center in Princeton. Some of them have lovely views of the city and some are windowless prison cells. I've had one of each. It's just luck of the draw. But I can certainly confirm that having natural light makes a big difference. By this time I've been at the hospital for 2-3 hours. The next phase is the most frustrating, which is waiting for the experimental pharmacy to release the immunological agent, which I have to receive first. The first time it took about 90 minutes, the second almost 3 hours. Once they get that, they can finally start the infusions. I get the immunological agent, followed by pre-meds for chemo (a long-acting anti-nausea drug, a short-acting one, many others to make the process less awful by controlling my reaction), followed by chemo itself. Together, all the infusions take about 3 hours.

My total time at the hospital is something between 6 and 7 hours. The driving, total, is about 3 hours. So, all in all, it's a 9-10 hour day. I often manage to use this as a time to enjoy the company of the friend who goes with me, since how often do you get to spend that much concerted time together? Often one or both of us is working, though increasingly I get spacey enough that I prefer to read, listen to a podcast, or just nap. Once I get home, I usually nap and, hopefully, see another friend who brings by dinner. These little acts of company make the biggest difference to me. I feel somewhat bad, since my exhaustion means I'm not often up for long visits, but just having another person around is tremendously reassuring. Dropping by, or being there while I nap or read, does a lot to break me out of the isolation that I can feel by being trapped so much in the physical symptoms of my treatment experience.

Illness is very isolating and makes you very vulnerable. No one else can endure the treatment for you and, in a way, the pain and discomfort is fundamentally incommunicable. Yet the emotional experience doesn't have to be similarly incommunicable and company (or well wishes) is a major antidote to that risk. So, as I wrap up this post-chemo weekend, I'd like to say thanks for reading and sharing it with me.

Love, Bex

#my life as a cancer patient #medical update #health update #clinical trials #stage 4 #bex writes

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 7

Moms, Meltdowns, and Mayhem

Hello and welcome back to Fabian’s worst nightmare, already in progress!

We rejoin the Bad Kids who have linked back up the next day and are on their way to the library of the city Leviathan--The Compass Point Library. On the way there, they see the Crow’s Keep burning but Fabian, assuming it has to do with what happened to him, tells everyone to leave it alone.

Adaine questions why Riz hasn’t had any nightmares (Riz: In a way, my life is a nightmare) and the whole group goes into another round of Shadowcat speculation. Is she protecting Riz from nightmares for some reason? Why can Tracker and Garthy suddenly see her in the picture despite not having seen her irl or had any weird dreams? Is she masquerading as someone else? 

Anyway, they reach the library which is the cool, cobbled together and largely stolen (to Fig’s delight) pirate-y library of Alexandria type place. They meet an old pirate wizard named Rollins with a book of pirate spells that Fig immediately wants to steal and Adaine wants to borrow (or steal, she’s flexible). They all sign up for Compass Point library cards and go up to the observatory to look for Ayda Aguefort. 

In the observatory, they find a huge orange-yellow bird on a perch and this is the part of the recap where I have to inform you that Aguefort had not only banged a phoenix, he somehow managed to procreate with it. Meet Ayda Aguefort, the half-phoenix (shout-out to the anon from last week who called Ayda as Aguefort’s daughter). She’s got wings and arms, bird legs, a plume of red fiery hair, and eyes which are basically just fire.

Fig thinks she’s the creature Aguefort made for her for reasons I cannot begin to fathom. She tries to feed her but Ayda rejects the food, not wishing to be in anyone’s debt. Ayda is kind of intense, abrupt, and anti-social when they meet her. She’s fully is about to fly away instead of helping until Fabian yells that Garthy sent them and Adaine remembers she has the letter from Garthy asking her to help them. After some back and forth, she agrees to give Adaine the spell (which will take 6 hours to learn) for 150 gold. But these are the Bad Kids so, of course, we have several tangents before the plot goes anywhere, during which we learn Ayda is a divination wizard (like Adaine), she asks if her father has talked about her (Fig successfully lies that he has), and Gorgug spouts out some fortune cookie nonsense (“What is a telescope but a spyglass pointed at the stars?”) that convinces Ayda that he could be the greatest wizard of their age (Adaine does a spit take and Fig is loving it).   

Adaine hits the books to learn the sending spell with Sandra-Lynn keeping watch while everyone else splits up suchly:

Fabian wants to go out to check on the Hangman but Kristen absolutely vetoes that. Buddy. System. Ragh agrees to go with him and she lays off. He tries to see what the damage on the Hangman is. Nat 1. As far as Fabian can tell, the Hangman is full dead. Not only that, Fabian is poor people sick which he isn’t used to at all. Ragh isn’t doing much better on the emotional front. He just started making progress with processing his emotions and now his mom might be dead. Saddest Hoot Growl ever (seriously, it’s heartbreaking). Cathilda comes in, loving as ever, with food and kind words and an old lullaby, but that’s not enough to stop Fabian from rolling another Nat 1 and gaining 2 levels of exhaustion (which means disadvantage on ability checks and speed halved). Lou, please burn those dice. 

Kristen and Riz are researching the Nightmare King. They go into a religious studies section of the library and (on a 20+ check from Riz) find texts about a temple to a forgotten god in Sylvere (the forest of the Nightmare King). The god is never named in any of the texts which Kristen finds weird. Riz decides to steal the book and is able to do it, despite Kristen’s “help”. Later, Kristen cross-refs Riz’s info with her world religions book and, on a dirty 20, she finds with frustration that there’s a lot of information but none of it really matches up. The fairies, treants, and especially the unicorns all had mysterious deities but none of them really match with the forgotten god. [Note: Last time we heard about unicorns was in episode one and we learned that the last time people saw the great unicorn was the last time the NK showed up.] At the same time, it seems like there are elements of the god in all five of the cultures in the forest. Adaine checks and there’s nothing magic with the book so it’s just the contents of the book that are weird, not the book itself. Kristen thinks there might be a connection to her weird dream about not being able to draw the face of her god. Adaine wonders if Kristen might have been worshipping this unnamed god by mistake. Gorgug wonders if the god is erasing themselves (a theory backed up late when they talk to Aguefort).  

Fig looks for information on cursed gems and (with a 19) she finds a good amount--no surprise in a pirate library. She finds a book called Breaking the Evil Eye in one of the forbidden sections and learns that it could be possible to planeshift into the gem, dispel magic from the inside and get rid of the trap, before breaking the original curse. She finds all of this out after she steals the book (disguised as Rollins). Planeshift is a level 7 spell though so Adaine has a while to go before she can learn it (she gets her first at level 13). 

Gorgug asks the real Rollins for books about cheering up a friend. He’s brought to a small, dusty section of the library. Gorgug rolls a nat 1 on an insight check and thinks that Rollins must be messing with him. Rollins is confused because he super wasn’t. Adaine takes a break and uses this pointless argument borne from misunderstanding to steal his book. Dirty 20. Rollins instantly skelatizes. She hastily puts the book back. He comes back Wrong and in incredible pain. He begs them to take the book out and Gorgug does. Adaine peaces out to finish studying, leaving Gorgug to deal with her mess. Gorgug decides to keep looking at the friendship books. Even on a 5, he finds a secret door into a HUGE friendship library. Guided by his library card, Gorgug finds a book called Cheer Up Me Hearties. When he gets out, Gilear is being accosted for killing Rollins, but Gorgug is able to get them to stand down. Gorgug Thistlespring, winning pirate hearts and minds. They take the book and Rollins’ bones to get him put back together.   

Adaine finishes up as Ayda comes to check on her. Ayda is about to make another quick exit but Adaine tries again to make friends with Ayda, this time by directly asking and offering to let her hold Boggy. Ayda is immediately obsessed with Boggy (and Adaine’s backpack terrarium AND the backpack she makes for him at Ayda’s suggestion) and extremely impressed with Adaine’s spellwork in manifesting Boggy. It’s a very cute scene and Adaine has made a useful ally. Ayda can’t believe she met the two greatest wizards of the age in one day. Wild. 

Everyone regroups to call Aguefort now that Adaine knows Sending. He sends them back some more powerful magic so he can talk for longer than the 25 word response. Think of it as magic Skype. He very casually tells them that Ragh’s house is a smoking crater and his mom is super dead. He takes far too long to follow up with the information that, a long time ago, he hid Lydia’s real body under the school, made a clone of her, and used the Magic Jar spell to basically hook up her consciousness to the clone body (which held a fake demon shard). The clone body is what got destroyed. Lydia’s real body and consciousness are fine. Way to bury the lede dude! Upon being asked, Arthur says that he used to remember the name of the god of the unicorn but he forgot. Suspicious and troubling. He and Fig also renew discussions on the creature she ordered but never paid for. He says the cheapest option is a pentacorn for 30k gold (which sounds like a unicorn w/ 5 horns and pretty useless but I refuse to get dragged into this insanity, I am just the messenger here).

Aguefort leaves to deal with the situation at home. Meanwhile, Gorgug notices smoke again but he also notices that it’s on the wrong side to be related to what happened to Fabian. After giving Fabian and Ragh oranges to prevent scurvy--a tip from the pirate friendship book--he brings it up to Fabian who thinks it’s probably Captain Wicklaw making a power play and they should probably stay out of it. What? says Adaine. Nah, we should fight him. Yeah, says Fig. You deserve revenge! Fabian just wants to lay low so they can get their C+. Adaine is not here for that C+ and she’s not here for Fabian’s concerning attitude shift. None of the Bad Kids are. However, the cast is very here for absolutely roasting Lou for all of his choices by having their respective characters inadvertently reference every bad thing that happened last episode. When Adaine suggests that Fabian might be cursed, Fabian finally haltingly comes out with the entire story (which Lou has to laugh-cry himself through in one of the best scenes of the episode) and everyone interjects with comments that they (out of character) know will just make Fabian’s storytelling even more uncomfortable. It’s a very wild combination of very emotional (in game) but deeply funny (out of game). Like:

Ally (who knows good and well that Chungledown Bim told Fabian he was gonna shit in his mouth): Did Chungledown Bim help you?

Zac (who also knows good and well that Chungledown Bim told Fabian he was gonna shit in his mouth): Chungledown Bim probably saved you.

Murph (yet another person who knows good and well that ChungledownBim told Fabian he was gonna shit in his mouth) You know what we should do? We should go see Chungledown Bim.        

Amazing. 

Fabian finishes his recounting of the 20 car pile-up that was last episode by repeating his earlier opinion that they shouldn’t go after Captain Wicklaw because it will just end with all of them dead. Kristen tries to slap him back to normal and tells him to lose the Gilear energy. Led by Gorgug and Adaine, the gang tells Fabian that being Bill Secaster’s son isn’t the only worthwhile thing about him (in fact, it’s pretty annoying). He’s worthwhile all on his own. Tracker chimes in and says that she thinks Fabian might have some issues with depression so maybe their well intentioned efforts to get Fabian to buck up weren’t the best way to handle things. Adaine and Riz are skeptical that Fabian is like, capital D, Depressed but Tracker sticks by her read on the situation. The group eventually decides to at least check out what’s going on with the smoke but before they arrive, an interlude:

As they walk to Crow’s Keep, Cathilda walks with Fabian and Cathilda starts dropping information about herself and about how her own children died before Fabian was born and about how she sees him as a son--though she’s tried to keep the proper professional distance. She comforts Fabian on his bad day and then her eyes go full Terminator and she mentally buts Wicklaw on her “People I Need to Murder Today” list (more on this later).

When they arrive at the place where the smoke is coming from, they find that the Ramble (kind of a pirate meetinghouse/Courthouse) has been burned down. Jemina Joy is there and she lets them know that Wicklaw asked what was necessary to become the new pirate king. He was told that all he needed to do was get the crown from the former pirate king (because respect for/fear of Bill was the only thing keeping there from being a new king). He just burned down the Ramble to be a dick. Adaine damn near gets her ass beat by Jemina by arguing politics with her (her point being that she wants to install Jemina as Pirate Queen while Jemina is like, “I just keep this place from sinking. Lay off.”) but Riz, mindful of the fact that this is a time sensitive situation, takes off to Gibbety Square where the pirate king’s crown is (and where Wicklaw is headed).

They make it to Brennan’s latest battle mechanic: The Row and the Ruction.

This is the crazy, pirate bicameral legislative system. The Row is a huge fistfight (no weapons allowed--or really they are allowed but everyone will gang up on you if you use them) at ground level. It’s always in session and has been for 150-ish years. Above that, is the Ruction which is a fight with full weapon and magic usage alone. The idea is that you need enough support on the ground in the Row so you can use them to get up in the Ruction. It’s a king of the hill situation up there and if you can hold your position up there for long enough, you can make laws. Got all that? Good. 

They get there just barely after Wicklaw and his men who haven’t yet entered the Row. Wicklaw starts talking mad trash to Fabian but his friends back him up. They give him back his sword, his eye-patch, and Kristen hits him with a Warding Bond (which means that he gets +1 to AC and saving throws if he stays close to her plus resistance to all damage and, more importantly, she takes all the damage he takes). Fig gives everyone Countercharm. And, to top it off, Cathilda shows up with in an all black, super-badass pirate uniform to say she’s gonna feed him his own freaking brains! Let’s goooooooo!

But, Wicklaw has some new allies as well. Three elves bamf in from Falinel (same people who Kristen felt scrying on them earlier) and they’re there to bring Adaine back, and it doesn’t seem like they’re gonna just ask nicely.   

Detention

Adaine for Unnecessary Theft and (Accidentally) Killing a Man 

Adaine was kind of on one this episode. Not only did she inadvertently kill* a man while stealing from him, Adaine also ghosted at the first sign of trouble, leaving Gorgug and Gilear to catch all the flak for her attempt at pulling a Fig. Bad form, girl!

*She probably didn’t technically kill him but she turned him into a skeleton and he called the pain upon reconstitution worse than death so let’s not quibble about the details. 

Honor Roll

Cathilda for Being a Badass Mom 

Oh man, oh man, oh man. 

I’ve low-key been waiting for Cathilda to go full pirate since we learned that was an option and especially since Fabian got attacked because it was a pretty safe bet that was going to be her berserk button and boy did she deliver.

When did she have the time for a costume change? Is she that stealthy? Did she magic it on? Or did she just manifest the outfit on the power of her rage alone?

The scene where she says Wicklaw is gonna pay? Chills. Not only pledging to eat your enemy’s brains but also saying you’re going to feed him his own brains and describing exactly how you’ll serve it? So raw. 

But I also have to shout out the non-murderous mom stuff she did this ep. The little talk she gave Fabian about no one being defined by their worst day was very sweet and good advice out of game too. 

But honorable mention to Gorgug for being an absolute sweetheart all episode. Zac’s improv about pirates giving their friends oranges to prevent scurvy bodied me.  

Random Thoughts

Some very useful posts from @jamiebluewind: Character Descriptions, Location Descriptions, Transcripts of Cathilda’s speeches from this ep. 

During the initial discussion with Collins, we learn that the transmutation exchange rate is 50 Parrots=10 Bananas=1 Gold. How are bananas more complex than parrots?

Adaine: May we steal books?

Her later actions aside, I think it’s funny that Adaine’s first move is basically always to sweetly ask for what she wants and Fig’s first move is, “Gotta steal that book!” Adaine is like the most polite person in the group but also ready to fight 100% of the time. The role reversal in the Jemina scene where Fig was the one who asked an on point question and Adaine was the one who made it almost spiral into an actual fight was great.

I was just saying this re: Harry Potter in a different context but clearly marked but not blocked off forbidden sections of libraries are more a dare than a deterrent. 

Fig as a horned parrot (done by Rollins for trying to steal his book) is adorable. Please somebody draw that.

I love that when they see the bird that turns out to be Ayda and Murph is like, “I don’t think that’s a bird,” Zac is like, “Yeah, Gorgug doesn’t know that.” Zac (like Travis as Grog in CritRole) has a real talent for playing dumb while actually being really smart.

“My principal scammed me?”

Brennan truly did not have to follow through on Aguefort saying he slept with a bird. He really, really did not have to but he was like, “Nope! I said it so it’s happening! This is happening!” I really wish you guys could have seen my face as I realized in real time that the madman was actually doing that. 

Adaine to Fig who thinks Ayda is her creature: This is a full person.

“I like school.”/“You would.”

Lol at Fig trying to draw parallels between Ayda’s prickliness and her own behavior and getting absolutely shut down. “I think people think you’re really tender.” The running thing of Fig’s perception of herself as this standoffish loner being constantly reality checked by literally everyone she knows being like, “You tell us you love us literally every day,” is one of my favorite group dynamics. It’s even funnier because, besides probably Adaine and Fabian, the rest of the Bad Kids probably knew Fig (or at least had seen her around) before she started going through her emo phase. So they totally remember her in 8th grade wearing preppy clothes and carrying a unicorn backpack and listening to Fantasy Taylor Swift and all that.   

All ep they were calling Kalina a cat and I was thinking, “I feel like—in game—that’s gotta be offensive.” And then Aguefort straight said it. Wild for it to come from him since he’s the craziest person ever but I’m glad it came up.

“You seem simple to me.”/“Thank God.”

Aww at Ayda asking if Aguefort ever talks about her. Brennan, you gotta stop putting little emotional traps into otherwise funny scenes. I can only handle so much!

The gang did some experimentation with the photo in this ep with these results: Ayda and Aguefort both couldn’t see Kalina in the picture. They also took a picture of the picture but that picture had the same properties as the original picture. Weeping Angel rules I guess. 

There’s speculation in this episode about why Riz isn’t having nightmares. I have another question kinda on that topic. In episode 2/3, we see the lie/mirror/Baron thing that happened with Riz. And that was for sure super nightmarish. But it doesn’t match what happened to Adaine and Fabian. Both of them seem to have had more ephemeral experiences that quickly vanished. And they weren’t borne from lies so much as fears. Riz’s monster came from a direct lie and it didn’t seem to be a nightmare. It came out of the mirror and attacked not only him but his friends later. No one saw Fabian or Adaine’s nightmares besides them (although, that could just be because they got away). And no other lie-monsters have showed up as far as we know. I’m just wondering if there’s maybe something else going on or if it was a different NK follower who did that or just a different power of the same dude. Just something I wanted to note because it’s been bugging me a little and no one’s brought it up yet. 

Cool quirk of the sending spell Adaine learned: Because it was modified by pirates, curse words don’t count towards the 25 word limit. What I immediately thought (and what Aguefort actually ended up doing more or less) was that you could easily send very long messages with, say, Morse code. Just designate one curse as a dot, one as a dash, and one as a space, and you’re good to go. It’d be slow, but totally workable. 

Also, after watching Laura as Jester absolutely flying by the seat of her pants with every sending spell, it was wild to see the group take the time to carefully craft the perfect message. 

I said two recaps ago that I wouldn’t be surprised if Gorgug multiclassed into a casting class soon and boy do I hope this episode means he’s gonna do it for real. Adaine’s total disbelief at Ayda’s interest in Gorgug’s wizarding potential was sending me.

Oh also. Ayda has forbidden Gorgug from reading any wizarding books so he doesn’t lose is totally uncomplicated mind. I guess he’s supposed to learn everything the savant way? Imagine Adaine diligently studying her wizard books, trying to master some complicated spell and Gorgug is like, “I woke up and I guess I can use Mage Hand now? Neat.” Absolutely maddening. 

Besides Cathilda, Gorgug was the MVP in this episode. Dude has a knack for making friends that I think will eventually pay dividends. 

Also, speaking of, everything Brennan said during the secret shelf section was so good as to sound planned, however, how could you predict that that was a thing a player was going to ask to find? Brennan is just always 7 seconds of prep time away from giving an elaborate and super specifically themed speech about friendship I guess.  

Big ups to Kristen for not letting Fabian go off by himself again. Like, for the sake of the party of course but also the, “We almost lost you,” was sweet. She also helped buff him going into the coming fight with Warding Bond that means she takes all the damage he takes. I am SO glad they brought another healer with them because that’s such a risky move. Kristen is a LOT but she’s also very ride or die and all heart. I really love that the last time she used this spell it was on Gilear for a joke and now it’s getting used seriously. It’s a perfect establish existence of power to audience/bring back at plot relevant time setup. Improv storytelling is so inexplicably good. 

Technically, to cast Warding Bond, you’re supposed to have matching rings with the person you’re casting it on so imagine Kristen blinged out with a ring for each party member and each of them having a corresponding one in case she needs to cast it on them.  

Little bit concerned that Tracker still doesn’t know about Sandra-Lynn/Garthy. The longer it takes for her to find out, the higher the chance it blows up and becomes a Thing.

Fig: *Meandering philosophical question about why Ayda watches the stars*/Ayda: I study it so I can know where this big city is floating.

RIP to the Hangman. I don’t think he’s gone for good but it seems like he is for now. On my first watch, I thought that, on a 1, Fabian just fully thinks that the Hangman is gone but, the second time it seemed more like he’s just dead. Now, I’m not Brennan, but if I was in this situation, you know what I would do? I would have someone save the Hangman’s soul (or whatever he has instead of a soul) and store it in the Hangvan temporarily. Imagine how much he’d hate that. It’s full of potential for “roommate” shenanigans. 

Is there anything stopping them from just, ramming the Row with the Hangvan? Like, I know it’ll get them ganged up on, but will they be able to do much against a full van?

Also, if/when they hold the Ruction, I wonder what law they’re going to try and make. They didn’t really go in with a plan (understandable under the time pressure) so they’re really gonna have to improvise something on the fly. 

Also, I’m assuming Fabian stabbed the Hangman while he was asleep? I don’t think we were ever shown that scene, but Fabian must have been under some kind of compulsion since he woke up in the river (and the same happened to Ragh). 

Aguefort casually mentions that he has many children and this episode proves that Brennan can and will back up every single crazy thing that comes out of his mouth, so I’m excited to see if there is a single Aguefort out there that isn’t crazy.

Oh, also, the acknowledgement that occasionally that phoenix is a child is appreciated because that was def a question I was going to ask. Squicky to say the least but I guess that’s how phoenixes work so what are you gonna do?

Ally needing to roll a 10, rolling, being happy, checking Kristen’s modifier, and realizing it’s a negative 3 for a total of 9 is peak D&D.

Fig as Rollins: Look at how fast I can run!

I love Fig thinking Adaine could plausibly have 7 level spells. She’s like, idk bro. She’s the eleven oracle. She cares about school. She could know this too. Who knows? Certainly not Fig who thought she could buy wizard spells to use as a bard.

“Please speak more enthusiastically on my behalf.”

“It’s my brain guys.”

Fig mind controls Gilear into believing in himself and he fails his save. I wonder if this is could be valid therapy technique in this world. 

Aguefort mentions that a Wish spell can destroy a Magic Jar just fyi. That makes 3 pretty high level spells mentioned in this ep. Magic Jar is 6th level. Planeshift is 7th level. And Wish, basically the strongest spell in the game, is 9th level. We’re starting to deal with some serious magical mojo.

The whole thing with people in pictures that not everyone can see and memories that you know you once had but don’t anymore and information that should exist but doesn’t is hitting a very specific storytelling sweet spot for me. 

This is a little meta-gamey to be thinking about but I’m kinda wondering, why sideline Gorthalax? Obviously, it’s a good plot hook for Fig and that might be all it is. But I’m lowkey wondering is there something Gorthalax knows or can do that would solve the plot in 30 seconds if he was around? Like, was he roommates with the Nightmare King in hell or something?

Kristen finds it weird that the god’s name isn’t written anywhere but I’m sure that’s gotta be fairly common. Or at least not unheard of. Like, I know in Judaism you’re not supposed to do that. Anyway, watch the great unicorn be the Nightmare King just for the Nightmare/Night Mare pun.

Adaine being on brand no matter the situation: Everybody shut up I have to do my homework!

The, “Do you want a friend?”/“Desperately.” interaction killed me. 

“I don’t have any wizard friends.”/“I’m a wizard.”/(beat)/“I don’t have any wizard friends.”

Arthur cloned a woman, forgot to tell her, and then straight forgot. So business as usual from him. 

Fabian’s, “Nooooooo,” with the rising intonation every time someone made an assumption during his story and he had to correct him was amazing. Also, “He told me he was going to shit in my mouuuuwth.”

Ragh, Fig, and Adaine all crying about their parental issues at the same time. This has been, like, the longest week ever. I wonder if the 7 Maidens are unpacking this much trauma on their quest.

“Absolutely timbered.”

Lol at Brennan dropping the cool pirate sending spell “curses don’t count” detail and then being told from off camera that he needs to keep it PG-13. But then Cathilda needed to go beast mode so, like, what can you do?

Another cool worldbuilding detail is pirate clerics just keep shrines to every deity they’ve come into contact with to hedge their bets like Beni from The Mummy.

I know Lydia was attacked on orders from Kalina but I wonder if they knew about/had plans for the demon shard too. 

When Emily said she disguised herself as Rollins, I fully thought she was going to walk out the door the real Rollins was guarding and not go out the back door like she did. The idea of a back door didn’t even occur to me. I just thought we were in for some classic Axford insanity. 

Riz: You’ve gotta get better at talking to kids.

Riz: This is real Gilear energy.

Kristen: We brought one Gilear. We don’t wanna make that mistake twice.

Everything that happened with Fabian was really funny because there’s nothing I love more in D&D than players having a good time dunking on each other but, in game, Fabian is really going through it. Fabian low key has mom friend energy so to almost die and then for all of his friends to jump into the exact fight that almost killed him (including taunting the dude! Adaine!) against his advice must be giving him a level of anxiety and dread that I don’t even have the words to describe. Like, now is not the time for him to digging into that because things are life or death. Gotta save your life before you can fix it. But he def needs to at some point. Too bad Jawbone’s not around for a quick mid-battle therapy sesh like he had with Adaine during prom.   

Tracker suggested that Fabian might be depressed. I’m not an expert on depression. He could be depressed and, in any case, he definitely needs to see a therapist for a Lot of reasons. But having a breakdown because you saw 14 people die, almost died yourself, and were told that a man wanted to shit in your mouth less than 24 hours ago seems less like a sign of depression and more like the only rational human reaction.

Adaine calls the above, “a vaguely mediocre day”. Michael Scott Voice: Adaine you ignorant slut.

Also Adaine: You got that bike because you won it fair and square because we killed a lot of people.

This is the second time Adaine has said that Fabian’s lineage is actually the most annoying thing about him and these are the kind of tiny continuity details I live for.

Semi-relatedly, Fabian’s relationship with his parents v. Adaine’s relationship with hers is endlessly fascinating to me. Because they have such similar backgrounds but coming from, like, opposite directions of the same spectrum, you know? Can’t wait for those sweet, sweet parallels as we jump into her trauma! (What is D&D but group therapy interspaced with murder?)  

Speaking of Adaine’s trauma, it looks like we’ll be getting to it very soon as those FBI Falinel operatives have shown up to force her (and the plot) back to Falinel. This is Concerning to me for two reasons. First off, remember the Aelwyn fight from season 1? Remember how annoying that was? Now imagine that times three and also 2 separate pirate brawls are happening. That sounds like a Bad Time for our kids. They’ve leveled up some and they’ve been known to make some very clutch battle decisions, but this is gonna be tough any way you slice it. This is like two entirely separate encounters at the same time. A small good point: I looked up the language for teleportation and it can only be used to transport a willing creature. So they can’t just bum rush her and poof out. But they could give her an ultimatum to make her agree. The second reason this Concerns me is that Adaine high key doesn’t want to work with/for Falinel and they know this. The fact that they’ve resorted to kidnapping (fun international law fact: when a government kidnaps someone, it’s called rendition) tells me that they’re done playing nice which opens up two options to them they might not have otherwise used. They could coerce Adaine’s consent to be their oracle by threatening her life/her friends’ lives. Or, more troubling, they could just kill her. I mean, she became the elven oracle when the old one died, right? So, if she died, someone else would get the job. Probably someone less troublesome to deal with. I doubt they’re gonna go straight for that because they seem to want her alive, at least for now. But it is a concern. 

Of course, we’re assuming that what’s happening on the face of this is the whole story, but that’s not necessarily true. Iirc, all we heard was that they found the oracle and they were gonna bring her back to Falinel. For all we know, the elves could be working for Adaine’s mom. Of Adaine’s mom could be working with Falinel. Or she could be working with Falinel just as a way to get to her daughter. We really don’t know. The last person on this show that got kidnapped was Fabian and that was a friendly kidnapping. Anything is possible. 

Something that struck me as a possibility: This fight seems like it’s gonna suck. There is a world where the ideal move for Adaine is to pull an Evy (from the Mummy--two Mummy refs in one recap, did not plan that, I just love the Mummy) and agree to go with the Falinel elves if they help them instead (or at least stop helping Wicklaw) with the faith that her friends will come rescue her. I doubt they actually care much about what happens in the government of this pirate junk city. I’m curious about how they ended up together anyway. I’m guessing the elves clued into what was going on while scrying on the group and decided an alliance might be useful.

Brennan about both Ally’s Applebees Reference and Fig using a Leviathan phonebook: That is nothing.

Shoutout to Fruzzinoid in the chat who said Ally’s alignment is chaotic-chaotic. Accurate.

I love the laughing-squawk that Brennan does for Ayda as much as I hate the fact that he made the Choice to spell it that way.

Truly, the entire scene where Lou is recapping the fight from last episode and he’s laughing uncontrollably but Fabian is clearly crying and he’s expressing both of those things simultaneously is beautiful. 

A Fabian line that really hit but that I haven’t mentioned yet: “I probably have one follower running around. Never mind he’s my father’s just like everything else I have.” Ow. Such a deep cut but so off the cuff from Lou. As a writer, this show makes me so mad because that’s such a good line of dialogue that Lou just dropped out of his mouth like it was nothing. How dare he? 

Another good line I didn’t mention before, this tie from Riz: “We all draw strength from each other. You went in without your crew. What’s a pirate without his crew?” Ugh, Murph. Who gave you the right?

This episode has made me extremely curious about what Cathilda thinks about Hilariel. Because she sees herself as Fabian’s mom--which she essentially has been in a lot of the ways that count since Hilariel has been mentally out to lunch for the past however many years. To be clear, I do think Hilariel loves Fabian. She just hasn’t really been present even though she’s been literally present. The way Cathilda phrased some of the things she said and the way she seems to talk about Fabian’s dad so much more than his mom makes me wonder if she doesn’t...resent isn’t the right word exactly. Maybe, disapprove? It makes me wonder if she doesn’t disapprove of Hilariel’s parenting choices more than she lets on. 

Kristen’s, “Do you listen to music?” in the middle of actually useful questions for Ayda. 

Rich people sicknesses include having eaten too much caviar or smoked a cigar for too long in case you’re wondering.

“You want an orange, pal?”

On a practical note, we have two more episodes to go until the show breaks for the year so prepare yourselves from now people!

Riz, Adaine, and Gorgug each rolled one Nat 20 apiece. Fig, Gorgug, and Adaine each rolled a Nat 1 (but Adaine presumably cancelled out hers rolling with advantage because of Boggy). Fabian, who is still living his worst life, rolled three Nat 1s. Tragic.  

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #report card