#i wish he had some more complexity to him or really anything to catch a hook on

[dayurno]

#i will warn you only once: tsc spoilers #literally just finished it as i am drafting this its 5am where i live #so you may be subjected to some nonsense #that all being said i have thoughts.and feelings #the kevin was lovely and tasted delicious! jean defending him at every turn even when he swears to hell and back he'll kick his ass #the kevjean was surprising i was only half expecting that #the dog metaphors i have to say i need this one cashed in. nora run me my check #im joking of course dont quote me on it #jean taking kevins promise to the end and living on it is seriously so. well. #'be careful with him' 'take kevin's name out of your ignorant mouth' 'you promised me' #also kevin getting called the court's queen had me tender and on my back oml #jean's relationship with the trojans is sweet and he is very interesting and complicated #a character with many moving parts im sure #there were a few things i did not care for #namely jeremy and the trojans felt remarkably flat to me bar lucas (by far the most interesting) and catalina on occasion #i didnt quite enjoy jeremy's pov and felt like he spent perhaps way too much time worrying over jean? if that makes sense #i wish he had some more complexity to him or really anything to catch a hook on #all we know is hes attractive and smiley and gets along terribly with his family #so much of his character is sucked out by jean he didnt feel like much more than a plot device to me #which i wouldnt mind if jeremy wasnt the literal main character alongside jean #i was living for everything jean thought but had to drag myself through jeremy's pov if im honest #uuuuh what else. neil! funny. deranged. i have to love him #andrew couldnt give less of a fuck about jean which is funny as all fuck #two bugs placed in the same habitat ignoring each other #the thing with elodie i thought was complicated. i wish we knew some more about her or that shed been mentioned a little earlier #but im assuming thats a topic to be revisited #uuuuuuuh yeah so thats most of it. i think my first thought and the one that sticked out the most to me is that the book felt remarkably #pedestrian #not necessarily in a bad way #it lacked to me one of the main appeals of aftg which were the numerous interesting side characters

[drarrily-we-row-along]

October 1: "I've Got You"

Draco Malfoy had had more than his fair share of humiliating moments. There seemed to be no shortage of things in his memory that made him simply want to crawl out of his skin with embarrassment, but this had to be one of the most horrifically mortifying things to ever happen to him.

His bank card was being declined at the check out. Face and neck heating horribly, he looked at the items he had to try to decide what to put back; a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, a jar of apple sauce, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, and a container of yogurt. "Oh," he said, heart racing as he tried to get past his anxiety to make a decision.

"Here," the man in line behind him said, "I've got you."

He turned, ready to decline his help, but those words fell away in favor of a spluttered, "Potter?"

"Hey, Malfoy," the other man said, nudging him out of the way with his elbow to insert his own card into the machine.

"No-" he started, too late.

Potter looked over at him, then back at his card, "I've got it," he said softly. And somehow there was compassion and understanding in his voice without any pity.

"I-" he tried again, looking at the fresh fruits and vegetables, the rice and potatoes, meats, and other delicious foods that Potter had piled on the belt behind him.

"Don't worry about it," he said before Draco could get any other words out. "Seriously," he added, looking at Draco from under his fringe, looking like he was the one feeling embarrassed as he pulled his card out of the machine and a receipt was printed.

Draco took his bag from the cashier and all but fled the store.

He wasn't too far, though, when he heard a set of footsteps jogging to catch up with him. "Hey-"

"Thank you," he said politely, "I-"

"No," Potter said, shaking his head. "Don't thank me. I just-" he broke off and Draco stared, waiting for him to continue.

When no other words were forth coming, he said, "If you were wanting to make fun of me-"

"No," Potter said, shaking his head vigorously. "No. Shit," he ran his hand through his hair. "Look, come to my house for dinner."

He blinked, "Excuse me?"

"I'm just making up a stir fry," he rambled on, "Nothing fancy just some rice, peppers, snap peas, onions, broccoli, steak, and some teriyaki sauce-"

"I'm fine," Draco said, even as his stomach growled at the thought of eating some actual fresh vegetables.

"Please," Potter said, grabbing his wrist to prevent Draco from turning away.

"Why?" he asked and he wondered if Potter could hear all of the questions in his head why would you help me? What's in it for you? Why aren't you mocking me? Do you just want to mock me in your home? What will this cost me?

Potter swallowed and looked down at his feet, "I know what it's like to not have enough," he said softly. "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Just," he huffed, "Come on. Let me feed you dinner. Please."

"You have an insufferable martyr complex." he snapped but before he could go anywhere, Potter spoke up again.

"My aunt and uncle," he said, "they didn't feed me enough. I fucking hate peanut butter sandwiches. No one should eat them day in and out. Just," he shook his head, "let me make you some dinner. You don't have to stay to eat it, you don't have to talk to me, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"And that's it? You just want me to come to your house and eat your food?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah," Potter said, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm not going to drag you to my house or anything because that would be creepy," he said when Draco didn't reply, still weighing his options, "but I'd really like to do this for you."

"Alright," he whispered, still feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed but also a deep longing for vegetables.

Potter grinned at him, bright and charming, like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Brilliant. Come on then."

And that was the first time that Draco found himself having dinner with Harry Potter, but it certainly wasn't the last.

By the time he left that evening, with a full belly and a container of leftovers, he'd let himself be convinced to come back the following week. A weekly dinner on Wednesday became a Wednesday dinner and a Saturday dinner, which became dinner every other night. And then before he quite knew how it had happened, he was at his house every night for dinner, staying later and later like he never wanted to leave.

Because the truth was that he didn't want to leave. Harry listened to him talk about his dreams, about how hard he was working in the muggle nursing program he was enrolled in, about his shitty job that didn't pay enough. He loved Harry's cat, Milo. He loved looking at Harry's art and listening to him talk about the creative process of making it. He loved hearing about Harry's childhood and getting to talk about his own. He loved having someone to do the mundane things in life with like cooking, chatting, watching telly, even just having someone to sit on the other end of the couch while he studied.

Still it took him by surprise one evening when they were making waffles and bacon for dinner, Harry was at the stove and Draco was cutting up strawberries, when the other man said, "Hey, Draco?"

"Mmhmm?" he hummed around the strawberry that he'd popped in his mouth.

"You know how your job is shit?"

He laughed, "I do. Thanks for reminding me."

"Right," he said, glancing over his shoulder at him, "But what if you didn't have to pay rent, would that make things easier?"

"It would," he said slowly, not allowing his heart to rise, not allowing himself to hope.

Harry nodded, "Do you think you might ever consider moving in with me?" he asked. "No pressure or anything, but I have an extra room," he continued, "well, five, actually. And Sirius gave me the house, so I own it, and-"

"Harry," he said softly, fingers lighting on the other man's bicep to get him to slow down. "I would love to, but I can't take advantage of your generosity."

"You wouldn't have to," he said earnestly. "If you're not paying for rent, you could maybe help with the cost of groceries, if you feel like you need to. But I don't have a ton of expenses, and I have a stupid amount of money, and a ridiculously large house for one person," he babbled. "And I just really like you," he blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Draco blinked at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "You like me?"

Harry nodded, hand still firmly in place over his mouth.

"I like you too," he said softly. "But I don't want you to feel like I only like you because of what you can give me."

He dropped his hand, a tiny smile blossoming on his face, "I hoped you might." Harry reached over and took Draco's hand, "I don't think that you only like me for what I can give you. You see me and hear my words, you know me. I'd really like it if you stayed."

And really, who was Draco to deny Harry Potter anything that he wanted? So he stayed.

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

#flufftober 2023 #fluff #down and out draco #drarry #falling in love #soft #trigger warning for poverty #trigger warning for mentions of canon typical child neglect #moving in together #short and sweet

[g4yforethan]

favorite

pairing: danny brackett x male!reader

summary: reader moves in across from danny and after a movie, cute things happen!

warnings: smut, cursing

a/n: i don’t know who or what to write about :( my inbox is open for suggestions !

you had just moved in to your new apartment. you were in new york for college and needed a place to stay. you have found a good deal on a new apartment and went for it. after settling in, it was getting late and you decided to go to get some pizza. you walked out to the entrance of the apartment complex when you bumped into a guy on the way out. “ah damn sorry bout that man.” “oh no it’s all good don’t worry bout it.” he was cute. really cute and he thought the same about you. “you just moved in?” “yeah today was move in day. i’m apartment 2-C” “no fucking way dude. you’re right across from me.” you gave a poker face not wanting him to know you were extremely excited you lived right across from him.

“oh really. that’s so cool. well i’m going to get some pizza right now so i’ll be back. it was nice meeting tho you. i’m y/n by the way.” “well y/n i’m danny. i’ll let you do your thing. if you need anything, i’m right across.” you give him a handshake but he goes in for a hug unexpectedly. a few weeks pass and the two of you got closer. one night, danny was over for pizza and a movie. you chose horror so that if you got scared, you could get close to him and it worked. anytime there was a jumpscare, you grabbed onto his arm and he always laughed and held you tight. by the time the movie ended, danny asked if he could stay the night. it was almost 2 in the morning so you figured why not? "here i'll go get you some blankets and a pillows so you can sleep on the couch." "woah woah. i wasn't planning on sleeping on the couch tonight?" you're confused.

"then where else silly?" "i was thinking with you. but if not it's cool." he looked like he was wishing you would say yes and you did. he took his shirt and got into bed with you. you were shy. 1 because you had never had a guy in your bed before and 2 because your crush was in bed with you! "you know i think you're pretty cute y/n. something about you just gets me going." you blushed harder than ever. "well thank you danny. i mean i've kinda had a crush on you ever since we met." "me too i ain't gon lie. but right now what i really want is this." he pulls you onto his lap and starts to kiss your neck as you do his shoulders. he takes off your shirt and starts to unbuckle your pants.

you were rushed with the feeling of adrenaline and craved danny and his body more and more. you went down and gave small kisses on his belly and unbuckled his pants, revealing his big and pretty dick. you started to bobble your head up and down as danny grabbed your hair. "fuck yeah baby just like that. you're so good at this shit." his raspy, masculine voice turned you on even more and just like that, danny was ready."fuck bae i think i'm gonna-" you stick your tounge out trying to catch every last bit of what danny released. you get up and give him another kiss. "damn, i think ima have to stay over every night then." you laughed and kissed him, resting your head on his chest as you and him talked the rest of the night.

#scream vi #scream x male reader #malereader #male reader insert #male reader #gay smut #gay love #danny brackett #josh segarra #josh segarra x male reader

[specialagentlokitty]

Joey x reader - chance of a lifetime

Joey platonic friend reader where the reader is a Rachel's friend who ultimately gives him a film opportunity - @asherloki 💜

Sitting at the cafe, you were sipping your coffee as you were reading over the script in your hands.

“Oh my god… (Y/N) hi!”

Looking up, you blinked as you tired to remember the face in front of you, then it finally clicked.

“Rachel! Hi!”

Getting up, you lightly hugged her and offered her a seat in front of you as you ordered her your drink.

“It’s been a while, sorry I’ve been so busy!” You laughed.

“That’s alright!” She laughed back, “I heard you were in the city. What brings you by?”

“Work.”

You showed her the script and she read it over while you guys had a catch up.

You hadn’t seen in her in a while and wanted to know everything that was going in with her, how her life was going and what was new.

“Woah, this is amazing! When is it going to be made?” She asked.

You shrugged a little bit and stuffed them script in your bag.

“Not sure just yet, still a lot of stuff you know finding the actors and working out filming schedules and all.”

“Well if you’ve got time we’re having a party tonight I’d love for you to come.” She smiled.

“Sure thing, just let me know when and where.” You beamed.

She gave you her address and phone number, letting you know what time it started at and rushed away to work.

You stayed at the cafe for a little bit longer before you finally headed to your hotel room to rest before getting ready.

Rachel told you it wasn’t anything fancy, so you dressed in some casual clothes and grabbed a cab to their apartment complex and stood outside a bit confused on how to get in.

“Can I help you?” A man asked.

“Oh I’m trying to get to a friends apartment, Rachel green. Do you know her?” You asked.

You looked up at him finally and you gave a huge smile as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well if it isn’t little Ross Gellar.” You laughed.

“Oh my god (Y/N)!”

He laughed and hugged you, showing you up as he asked how things had been since high school.

“Woah, you’ve come a long way then Huh?” He chuckled.

“I suppose so, but so have you.” You smiled.

He led you into the apartment and introduced you to everyone.

You sat talking to those that were there at the time, and another two came waltzing in not long after you.

“That’s Joey and Chandler, guys this is (Y/N), a high school friend.” Rachel smiled.

“Nice to meet you guys.” You smiled.

“You too.” Chandler said.

“How you doin?” Joey smirked.

“Don’t even think about it Joey.” Rachel scolded.

“Sorry.”

You laughed as he frowned and sulked in the corner about being told not to even try and flirt with you.

The party soon began, and it was nice, relaxed and as you sat on the couch drinking Joey saw this as he chance to come talk to you.

“You’ll get told off again.”

“Not if you don’t tell Rachel.” He grinned.

You hummed, thinking this over.

“Sounds fair.” You laughed.

Joey grinned even more, sitting on the table opposite you.

“So what do you do? Rachel said she hadn’t seen you in ages because you’re always away for work.”

“Well, I’m a film writer and director, I’m always away filming or writing somewhere. I came to the city to finish a script and look for some actors.”

“You.. you know I’m an actor…” Joey said hesitantly.

“Oh really? What have you started in.”

He thought for a moment before replying.

“I played doctor drake remoray in the days of our lives.”

“Oh I loved that show! You were amazing in it!”

“Wow really? You think so?”

You nodded your head excitedly and told him what you liked about his work.

Finally after a while of talking you were getting tired and had to go home.

“Hey I’ve got to go, but it was nice meeting you all, maybe we can meet up again?” You asked.

“Of course.” Monica smiled.

“Yeah! It’s been fun!” Phoebe beamed.

You handed Rachel your hotel number and your personal number and turned to Joey.

“It was nice meeting you, and I wish you luck with your acting!”

With that you went home.

The next day, Rachel received something in the post, curious she opened it.

It was a letter and a copy of the script you showed her the day before.

She grinned as she read the letter and ran across the hallway, banging on the door.

“What?! What?!” Chandler yelled.

“Where’s Joey?!” She yelled.

“What’s going on?” Ross asked.

“Where’s Joey?!” She yelled again.

“He’s not here, he’ll be back soon.”

“When he gets back everyone come to ours.”

With that Rachel ran away again.

She was bouncing with excitement and an hour later everyone came into the apartment, confusion written all over their faces.

“What’s going on?” Monica asked.

“Yeah, you’re looking for me?” Joey said confused.

Rachel gestured for him to come over.

“Close your eyes.”

“Okay?”

She handed the script to him and told him to open his eyes and he looked at it in confusion.

“I don’t get it.”

“Joey, (Y/N) wants you to play the lead villain in her film.”

Everyone screamed with excitement, and Joey grinned from ear to ear.

“Seriously?” He asked.

“Yeah. She just sent it today, she wants you to rehearse with her until she sorts out some more actors, to give you a head start.”

“What if it doesn’t work out…” he mumbled.

“Joey, have you heard of her works?”

He shook his head and she walked around, grabbing some films from her room and dropped them on the couch.

“Wait, wait, wait, you mean she wrote these? These are huge films!” Phoebe yelled.

Joey stared in shock, and soon excitement started to build inside of him.

You were a huge director, a huge success, and he was getting the chance of a lifetime and he was going to work the hardest he had ever worked in his life

#friends #friends x reader #friends x you #friend imagine #joey tribbiani x reader #joey tribbiani

[izzyhandswhore]

ALRIGHT SO,SINCE REQUESTES ARE OPEN, I hope you'll write this. Izzy slowly falling in love with Stede's sister reader,and Stede's reaction to it

((Thank you so much for my first request!! Absolutely love this idea. I'm gonna split it into two parts since it got a bit long. So Izzy reacting to it, then Stede)) Izzy falling in love with a Bonnet. - Slowly is right. Izzy meets you at a very turbulent time in his life and he thinks the last thing he needs is more dead weight.. Though of course you prove yourself to be anything but that. - He'll never forget the first time he laid eyes on you. Just when he thought he'd seen every absurd thing The Revenge could throw at him.. There you were. The final and most complex puzzle. - Everything about you confounds him and winds him up because really, in theory, he should hate you the way he hates Bonnet, but somehow.. He just can't. When Stede wears finery it looks garish and stupid, but on you it's perfect. When Stede wears something more pirate-like he looks like a boy playing dress up, but you look different and daring. - Claims he won't go easy on you just 'cause you're a lady (and my GOD does he love teasing and making fun of you for being 'a lady') but the whole crew notices right away that he does. You're not sure if it's subconscious or not, but Izzy never really raises his voice at you, never demands to know what you're doing and putting you to work in your downtime, never threatens to take away rations and always makes sure you have time to eat.. The list goes on. - Basically at first he's a lot of bark and no bite. He refuses to call you by your name only ever sarcastically or venomously refers to you as "my lady" or "your highness" or, if you've really got on his nerves, "madam" or "princess". - The score stays even though. He is VERY easy to get flustered, especially since it's been a while since he's had female company. The smallest of things (the way your hair or skirt blows in in the breeze, your voice, your touch or even the way you look at him sometimes) often catch him off guard. - But then things start to shift. Izzy can be pretty observant and it doesn't escape his notice that you're not as useless as he first thought. The total opposite, in fact.. Slowly a mutual respect starts to form. He even starts calling you by your name and seeking out your company instead of only talking to you when necessary. - Instead of mocking you or discouraging you from taking part in things like sword fighting and the running of a ship, you find he actually becomes your greatest guide. The two of you take to sword training in the quieter moments and star gazing navigating under the stars at night, just the two of you. - In return you actually get him to open up and talk about his feelings (though he would deny instantly that that's what it was). He tells you about life on the Queen Anne and listens when you tell him about your own life before The Revenge. You slowly dismantle the idea that you and Stede had a picture-perfect childhood and the respect grows to admiration as he realizes how strong you actually are. - Stede and the crew have no idea what you did but they notice a change in Izzy after that. He's still, as Stede would say, a complete arsehole, but his edges seems slightly softer somehow. At the very least he doesn't seem as stressed out all the time. - It's hard, but eventually you can get him to start accepting some of your fancy gifts. He wouldn't be caught dead with any of them, but he has a ring on a chain around his neck, beneath his shirt close to his heart. - Secretly wishes to be married so you don't have to have the name "Bonnet" anymore. He's not convinced you are a Bonnet anyway. There's no way you could be related to that foppish twat.

#izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #ofmd #our flag means death #long post

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER NINE

Chapter Summary: With the weight of suspicion lifted, you can hang out with Bartolomeo in peace. Well, hang out... among other things... Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only, NSFW Chapter; PiV sex, lots of biting, eating out, coitus interruptus/pulling out) TW: Other than references to the stalking that's been going on, none <3 enjoy~ Ao3 Link: Chapter Nine (5,095 words)

Bartolomeo’s apartment layout was a mirror image of yours. The tidiness was anything but. While it was free of trash, likely thanks to the frantic clean-up he did before letting you in, it was still a bit of a disaster. The kitchen counter was overflowing with mail, some of it just empty envelopes. The pile was accompanied by a key tray filled with change, two lighters, and a set of keys joined together by a jolly roger keychain. Turning toward the living room area, you were greeted by the sight of various clothes scattered about. Some draped over the couch, others on the floor, while the majority was piled onto a battered armchair.

Then your gaze fell on Bartolomeo, who was scratching the back of his head as he picked up some of the discarded garments. “Sorry, it’s still pretty bad. I uh... I wasn’t expectin’ anyone over.”

You smirked. “You don’t strike me as the type to clean up for just anyone.”

As his skin flushed and he continued bundling clothes into his arms, you silenced the part of your brain that insisted he was the type to break into apartments. He was the one who offered to hang out after all, making it so you didn’t have to impose it upon him. If he really was the culprit, would he really risk letting you in where you could find evidence?

You let your eyes wander once more, this time landing on his TV stand. There were dust imprints from the consoles he had let you borrow, but he still had one on the bottom shelf with different games stacked beside it. To the left of his setup was a tall bookshelf with more games, and a few shelves of DVDs. Curious, you wandered over.

Bartolomeo was doing an exceptional job at not visibly freaking out. You were here. In his apartment. Alone with him. He wished it could have been better circumstances — if he’d had more time to prepare he would have better hidden his dirty clothes. And got his shit off the counter. Maybe even put clean sheets on his bed. You cooked for him, he could have probably made something for you. He wasn’t the best, but he could’ve made like... omelets. Those weren’t too hard. It was just a matter of not letting the fact you were finally in his apartment distract him.

He could do that. Easy. Totally. Definitely without burning the eggs.

He’d probably just end up burning the complex down instead, if the fact that he couldn’t stop staring at you was anything to go by. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you looked over your shoulder, catching him in the act. 

You giggled, “What? What are you looking at?”

Bartolomeo shook his head. “N-nothin’. You uh. You wanna watch something?”

You shrugged, returning your attention to the options. “I was just being nosy, but sure.” You then picked up Screamoff the shelf and stuck your tongue out at him, asking in your best gravelly voice, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A smile slowly crept across his face as tension rolled off his shoulders. He could do this.

After setting up the movie and a playful argument over who would pay for takeout (which Bartolomeo won, holding his phone out of reach with one hand and keeping you back with the other), you were next to one another on the couch. There was plenty of room to sit on opposite sides, but it somehow felt... right, sitting closer to him. You wondered if it was partially from guilt, and you wanted to be closer as a way of apologizing for your suspicion.

Deep down, however, you knew it was because despite that, despite being “just friends”, you still had it bad for him. You decided from the moment he was cleared of guilt to lean against that boundary, if only just a little.

For his part, Bartolomeo was trying to lean against it as well. The close proximity made his heart race, and he summoned up the courage to let an arm drape across the back of the couch, propping one ankle onto the opposite knee. The mere inches between his arm and your back was enough to send sparks through his nerves, and he resisted the urge to let his arm fall onto your shoulders. Not yet.

The hair on your neck stood, feeling his arm behind you. Slowly, you let yourself relax, the warmth radiating from him drawing you closer as you sank into the couch. When the food arrived you assumed he would retreat back into himself, but surprisingly no — he would lean forward for a bite, and every time he sat back his arm returned as well. Gradually, over the course of the film, you found yourself leaning even closer, your hand brushing against his leg.

Bartolomeo wasn’t entirely sure when his heartbeat became louder than the movie, but he knew it wasn’t from the rising tension on screen. He could feel you inching nearer, whether you meant to or not. He was determined not to make the same mistake he had before at the diner — if you were uncomfortable, he trusted you would correct yourself or say something. And if you did, this would be a rare moment that he’d get to be so close. At least while you were awake and aware.

By the time the movie was done, you were almost completely against him, your head near his shoulder and your hand pressed between your leg and his.

Both of you separated, faces beet red as Bartolomeo took the trash to the kitchen and you skittishly retrieved the DVD. You glanced over your shoulder before pulling out your phone and quickly texting Robin,

“Any chance you can bring my keys tomorrow morning?”

The response came quickly, “Having fun?”

“Maybe? We’re watching movies. He almost had his arm around me.

“Even if it doesn’t... go anywhere. I might just crash on his couch.”

Another moment passed, then, “Tomorrow works.

“Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Call if it changes.

“Have fun~”

Your heart skipped a beat. Hopefully you would, if you weren’t misreading things this time. Even if it meant you had to be the one to make the move.

Bartolomeo took in a deep breath, leaning against the kitchen counter. This was agony. It was nice, receiving the light physical contact that he did, but the pain of leaving things unspoken much longer was going to kill him. If he didn’t do something now, he never would, and he would spend who knows how long pining, and watching, and following, and breaking in...

And doing anything to keep other people from having you.

He took another deep breath, straightened his back, and turned around. Now or never.

“Well, Robin won’t be able to get my keys until tomorrow morning,” you sighed, turning your attention back to the DVD shelf. “Anything you wanna watch?”

He stepped out of the kitchen, feeling his heart beat heavier with each step toward you. “Nah, you’re the guest. You pick.”

You shrugged, running a finger along the titles, lingering on a few — Boondock Saints, Pirates of the Caribbean, Jaws — before pulling out Silence of the Lambs to read the summary. Half way through, you felt a warmth against your back.

Bartolomeo’s chest rose and fell as he wrapped his arms around your waist, bending just a bit to press his head to the top of yours. “Been thinkin’ lately. About you.”

You let out a shuddering breath, your heart racing. “W-what about me?”

His hold tightened, pulling you closer to him. “How I’ve been wantin’ to hold you like this for a while now.”

You gently put one hand on his forearm, swallowing. “How long?”

You felt his chest heave again and his breath huffed down your neck. “Since we got to talkin’, back when you first moved in.”

The movie case slipped from your hold and clattered to the floor. This whole time? As long as you have? Little moments began to creep into your mind. The way he seemed to flush at the slightest contact with you. How frequently he took time out of his day to talk to you. Every time he called you “sweetheart”. And then the bigger things — the creep at the bar and the jerk who harassed you on the train. Bartolomeo had gone out of his way to protect you. And when you were stood up by Cavendish, he was there to comfort you.

You suddenly felt ridiculous for having misread the signs.

Slowly, you managed to turn in his hold, his forehead now pressed to yours. His eyes bore into you, amber irises like crackling flames. Unable to stop their trembling, you lifted your hands to either side of his face, your thumbs stroking his cheeks as you tried to calm your rapidly increasing heart rate. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I dunno. Guess I was nervous. You’re so... you’re so cute. And good. And soft.” He averted his gaze, his cheeks turning warmer. “And I’m not any of those things.”

“Barto...” You tried to lean into his line of sight. “You’re definitely cute — you’re helping me harbor a cat, and I hear how you talk to him.” Your thumb traced the lines of his face tattoo. “You made a creep drug himself and punched some jerkwad’s lights out for me. If that’s not good, I don’t know what is.”

He cracked a lopsided grin. “Still not soft.”

“You don’t have to be.” You brushed your thumbs over his cheeks again. “Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I’ve been holdin’ back for a long time. Now you’re here, and I like holdin’ ya like this, and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

“How could you ruin it?”

The flames in Bartolomeo’s eyes flickered as he finally looked at you. “...’cause I wanna ruin you.”

Your heart fluttered, a sensation that rapidly descended to your stomach, then swelled to an ache between your thighs. With a deep breath to steady yourself, filled with confidence now knowing the truth, you were going to do what you had been wanting to since you met him.

Your hands moved behind his neck as you lifted yourself on your toes to kiss him.

His teeth made it a tad awkward at first, but after a moment, when he realized what was going on, he began kissing back — then his mouth fit perfectly against yours. He moved his hands to your hips, his grip almost too tight, and you felt his tongue push against your lips. You gladly granted access, both of you sighing between each other’s mouths as he slid inside. You let out a soft moan that ended in a squeak as he pressed his teeth into your lower lip. He then abruptly pulled away, leaving you dizzy and breathless as he leaned down and began placing soft kisses all down your neck, in between each one breathing out “please”.

Your core ached a little harder as you lifted one hand to thread it into his hair, the locks silky between your fingers. After he nipped at where your neck met your shoulder, you pulled at the base of his scalp, leaning into his ear.

“I want you to ruin me.”

You were swept up into his arms before you could utter another syllable.

With a startled shout you held tight to his shoulders as Bartolomeo carried you to his room, stealing another heated kiss from you, and another, and another, before he lowered you onto the edge of his bed. Your pants were gone all too quickly and discarded somewhere in the room as he sank to his knees between your legs, trailing more kisses down your right thigh, then the left, before nipping at the underside of your knee.

“I’ve wanted you so fuckin’ badly,” he sighed as he peppered more kisses on your skin.

You nodded, breathless. “I’ve wanted you, too.”

Bartolomeo’s heart clenched and he looked away, his voice wavering. “Don’t — don’t go sayin’ that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and tipped his head back. “I’ve wanted you since we met.”

You could swear you saw his eyes water, and he lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing your thighs again. “Please, please, please let me have you.”

Another flutter in your chest shot right down to your loins. “I’m yours.”

A soft moan rolled through his chest and he bit down on one thigh, making you throw your head back and cry out. He sucked on the skin there, his teeth pressing into the soft flesh and threatening to puncture, the sharp pain of a forming bruise sending pleasurable shocks through your nerves. When he finally let go, a dark hickey was left behind, trailed by a string of saliva and just the faintest bit of blood where his teeth managed to break through.

Bartolomeo then spread your legs just a bit further, stroking one thumb against your covered folds, his eyes shining in the dark room. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You giggled, “You talking to me or my cunt?”

His gaze flicked up to yours, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Both.”

The responding laugh quickly melted into a heady moan, your eyes fluttering shut as Bartolomeo ran his tongue over the outside of your panties. The barrier between his mouth and your core was torturously thin, the warmth and wetness of his tongue seeping through the fabric and mixing with yours. You felt the tip nudge against your clit, making you shudder and whine. He repeated the action, going slower and pushing harder against the fabric, just barely teasing your entrance.

Your grip on his hair tightened and he groaned, looking up at you. He only paused for a moment, before he pulled the fabric of your underwear aside and gave another long, languid lick to your folds. You bit back a shrill whine, falling back against the bed and holding his head with both hands, rolling your hips to meet each stroke and shivering every time the tip caught the edge of your entrance or pressed against your clit.

Bartolomeo relented, placing kisses along your hips and letting your legs drop from his shoulders. Agonizingly slow, he dragged your underwear off, his eyes flicking between your blissful face and the sight of the warm, dripping pussy before him. He could hardly believe this was happening — part of him was terrified he’d wake up and everything that had happened up to this point would be a dream. But the feel of your soft thighs in his hands, the smell of your slick, the dark hickey he left on your skin, all of it reassured him this was real. You were real. And you were right there for the taking.

He dove right back in, pushing your knees further apart as he devoured your cunt. His fangs dragged against your outer folds while he caught your clit on his front teeth, the sharp edges drawing forth a scream from you as your hips jerked upward. He lifted your legs over his shoulders again and held your hips down to the bed, pinning you in place as he teased the sensitive bud.

After letting loose another scream, you brought one hand to your face, biting your knuckle to keep from being too loud. A smart move, given you nearly screamed again when his tongue slid inside of you, his nose and the cold metal of his septum ring taking its place near your clit. With every arch of your hips, his grip seemed to get tighter, pressing you down more firmly to the mattress as he continued his onslaught, occasionally circling his tongue around the rim of your entrance before slipping right back inside.

Bartolomeo looked up after a particularly hard twitch of your hips, seeing you biting your knuckle. He growled softly, an action that sent pleasurable ripples up your spine, before pulling away, trailing wet kisses up over your hips and stomach. Stopping just above your navel, he released your hips to reach up and pull your hand away, pushing himself up onto the bed to straddle you. As he pinned your wrist beside your head, he took your chin in the other hand, looking down into your lust-hazed eyes with a mix of adoration and danger.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low, his grip on your wrist flexing. “I wanna hear you.” He then leaned down to your ear, continuing, “I want everyone for miles to know you’re my girl.”

You couldn’t help the sharp whine in your voice, “Barto, please.”

He chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

His nickname for you took on a whole new meaning, knowing how he’d meant it, hearing it in that husky tone. With a shuddering breath you said, “More.”

He released your wrist. “Sit up against the headboard.”

You nodded, scooting yourself backwards and upright, taking his face in your hands to kiss him again. He responded in kind, his mouth covering yours as he again slid his tongue past your lips, and you tasted yourself on him. You were so occupied with the kiss that you hardly noticed the hand drifting down between your thighs until his fingers circled your clit, making you throw your head back again with a needy cry. Electricity fired through every fiber of your being, your hips arching up to meet his hand and attempting to grind against it. All the while he kissed down your neck and shoulder, leaving soft bites in his wake and dragging his teeth across your skin.

It was only when your hands fell to his shoulders that you realized Bartolomeo was, annoyingly, still clothed. With a frustrated groan you pulled at his shirt, tugging it up to expose his midriff. 

A low laugh reverberated in his chest and he kissed your cheek. “Relax, sweetheart. I get it.”

He removed his fingers from your folds and sat back on his knees, towering over you as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head. Your heart leapt to your throat, your gaze drifting from the tattoo on his toned chest down to the dusting of happy trail peeking out from his jeans. All too eager to respond in kind, you whipped your own shirt off and tossed it aside, before pausing to make eye contact. His eyes were wide, watching you with utter fascination as you slowly unhooked your bra and let it slide off your shoulders, finally fully naked before him.

He looked you up and down, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his eyes getting misty again. “Fuck... you’re beautiful.” He nearly collapsed on top of you as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent. “How’d I get to be so lucky?”

You giggled, threading your fingers in his hair. You both would’ve been luckier if you’d known sooner, you thought. If either of you had actually said anything, maybe you could have been coming home to this every day for the past few months.

You could come home to it every day from now on.

With a desperate groan Bartolomeo shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips, kicking them off the bed as he pulled you down by the waist to lay fully flat against the mattress. He cradled your face in his hands and kissed you again, smothering you with more as he covered your cheeks and trailed them down your neck, each one gracing you with little scratches as his fangs caught your flesh. You dragged your nails down his back and he responded with a guttural moan, his hips bucking and pressing his length against you as a result. You gasped at the heated contact, looking down between your bodies.

Oh shit. He really was long. You couldn’t resist reaching down and taking his shaft in your hand, sighing at the weight and velvety feel. 

Bartolomeo let out a choked gasp, his eyes widening before squeezing shut as he bit down hard on his lip. Fuck, fuck your hand felt so much better than his, so small and soft in comparison. You gave him a squeeze and he practically yelped, burying his face in your chest to stifle the sound.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he whined, rolling his hips forward and making his cock slide in your hand. “You feel so good.”

You stroked along his length, the resulting moan from him vibrating your ribcage. You lifted your hips, pressing his cock between your body and hand, crooning, “You’re supposed to say that after you start fucking me.”

He smiled and lifted his head, caressing your cheek with the side of his hand. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

His other hand covered yours and helped guide himself down, slowly sliding along your slick folds. The pressure of his length against your core was torment, making you ache with each teasing stroke. You lifted your hips again, trying to catch the head of his cock on the opening of your cunt, whimpering with each attempt.

Bartolomeo bit his lip again, hard enough to draw blood. It was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to shove into you — he wanted to savor this moment, knowing you were as desperate for him as he was for you, drinking in every needy whine and frustrated rake of your nails on his arms and back. But he was also so much bigger than you... he thought he’d be fine girth-wise, but length? He’d likely bottom out before you even reached the base.

“Barto,” you groaned, digging your nails into his back, “stop teasing and fuck me.”

“Ohh, shit.” He slowed his hips, lining up his head with your opening. “Say that again.”

You put your hands on either side of his face, looking into his fiery eyes. “Fuck me, Bartolomeo. Please.”

“That’s my girl.”

With that, he plunged his cock inside.

Your scream caught in your throat, the burning stretch of your walls a sweet relief from the torture. He pushed in slow, inch by blissful inch, stopping just shy of your cervix. For a moment, you both stayed there, adjusting to each other and staring into one another’s eyes. Bartolomeo then pulled his hips back, then snapped them forward again, pushing in as far as he could go. He was right — he wouldn’t fit to the hilt. But he was going to be damn sure to enjoy as much he was able to drive in to the fullest.

The next thrust sent spots scattering into your vision, and you finally let out the scream trapped in your chest, clenching tight around him. His groaning grew almost feral as he picked up speed, once more burying his face in your neck and biting. You shrieked, unsure if the sharp pain was him sucking at the skin or his teeth breaking through it, but combined with the feeling of his dick bullying its way as deep as it could go, you were more than willing to endure anything he decided to do with you. Even if it meant letting him eat you whole.

Bartolomeo let go of your neck with a satisfying pop , laving over the dark bruise he left behind and tasting the traces of blood there. His hips stuttered — shit, he hurt you... you tasted so much better than he ever dreamed — but he couldn’t stop. From how tight you became when he released his bite, you weren’t letting go of his shaft any time soon, regardless. Good. He needed this. He needed you.

“Mine,” he rasped, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

You whimpered, your eyes watering as you met each thrust, hooking your legs around his waist to draw him in as deep as he could go. Your name fell from his lips with every thrust like a prayer, occasionally broken by the deep husk of “mine”.

The tension in your gut finally snapped and you saw white, screaming Bartolomeo’s name in his ear as you held tight, your cunt spasming around him. Fire flooded your veins, spreading across your back and down again through your legs. He wasn’t far behind, his prayer devolving, “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He abruptly pulled out, his orgasm ripping through him like lightning as he came, his seed spilling over your stomach and thighs. He quickly sat upright and took hold of his cock, pumping out the last of it onto your mound, unable to stop a bit of drool from dripping down his chin onto you. You whined and writhed beneath him from the sudden loss of contact, but in hindsight it was for the better, considering neither of you had protection.

Panting, Bartolomeo collapsed beside you, one arm draped over your chest and pulling you close as he peppered your face with kisses. Breathless, you returned some of them, struggling to keep up in the post orgasm haze, but relishing every time your mouths connected. 

After a few more placed to your forehead, he shakily stood from the bed, holding your face in his hands.

“Stay here,” he muttered, giving your cheeks a soft squeeze. “Please — please stay right here.”

You laughed, taking hold of his wrists. “I’m not going anywhere.”

This time he couldn’t help it. A few tears slid down his face and he kissed your forehead again before parting and rushing to the bathroom. He nearly tripped running back with a hand towel, truly terrified that you weren’t going to be there, that you’d fade away. But there you were, splayed out on the bed with your eyes closed, a pretty smile on your face.

When you opened your eyes and directed that smile at him, he melted, crawling atop the mattress to kiss you again as he slowly wiped away the mess he made on you. You sighed, letting yourself relax as he cleaned.

Once he was done he pulled his bedsheets over you both, staring down at you with wide, watery eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh again, stroking your thumbs over his slightly dampened cheeks. “Everything okay?”

Bartolomeo couldn’t stop the words if he tried. “I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you saw your smile reflected in his eyes. “I love you, too.”

He pulled you close to his chest as you fell asleep, holding you as tight as he could without hurting you.

He was yours.

You were his.

Finally.

You awoke to find you and Bartolomeo lying diagonally across his bed, with him holding you close to his chest. His teddy bear he didn’t want falling off. You let out a content sigh, at first tempted to snuggle down closer and enjoy the heat radiating from him.

Unfortunately, your bladder demanded release, and his hold was just a little too firm to wriggle your way out of.

“Barto?”

He hummed, burying his face into your hair.

“Barto, I need to pee.”

He sighed, his breath tickling your neck as he muttered, “So go pee.”

You snorted, tugging at the arms around you. “Kinda need you to let me go first.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’d rather I pee the bed?”

He nuzzled the shell of your ear, purring, “Sounds kinky.”

“Eugh, gross !” you laughed, now squirming desperately to get out of his hold. “Not even remotelyappealing!”

He chuckled and lifted one arm to release you. “Go piss, girl.”

It took an embarrassing amount of effort not to laugh too hard as you ran across the hall to the bathroom. When you returned, Bartolomeo was sitting on the edge of the bed, the blanket half-draped over his lap doing little to disguise his morning wood. Sunlight managed to peek through the curtains, outlining him in a warm glow. His hair was a mess, half of it hanging over his face until he pushed it back with a yawn. When his eyes met yours, he smiled. Even with his fangs, the expression was soft, and brimmed with adoration.

How did you ever think he didn’t love you?

You smiled back and moved to stand between his knees. He took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over them before he suddenly laid back, pulling you down with him. You squealed, giggling as he began peppering your face with kisses, trailing them down your neck and back up again. You pushed against him, fighting to sit back upright, but his arms kept you close, denying you relief from the onslaught of affection. He barely left enough room for himself to speak between kisses.

“I wanna—” chu “—spend every day—” chu “—just like this.—” chu “—Don’t wanna—” chu “—spend—” chu “—a single—” chu “—second—” chu “—without you.”

After a few more kisses, Bartolomeo paused, then sighed. “Now I gotta piss.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to spend just a few more seconds without me.” You kissed along his jawline. “Think you’ll survive?”

“I guess,” he whined, giving you one more squeeze before getting up. He gave you a wide, almost dopey smile at you over his shoulder as he left, then leaned back into the doorway and quickly said, “Stay right there. Gonna be right back.”

Another giggle bubbled forth from you as he darted off. With a happy sigh you shifted on the bed to lay on it properly, one hand slipping underneath his pillows. Your palm touched a different fabric than the pillow case, and your curiosity piqued. Curling your fingers you rolled onto your back and pulled the mystery fabric out, holding it over your head.

A small, light purple t-shirt, with the words “Bite Me” across the front in black, drippy font.

The bed fell out from beneath you. Everything in your periphery melted away. You sat upright, sliding your legs off the bed as you stared at the shirt in your hands. Your shirt. The one you lost not long after moving in. And it smelled like your perfume. How did it smell like your perfume? The shirt had been missing for months, it shouldn’t have still smelled like you.

Your stomach lurched. The world around you began to spin just a little too fast as a horrible chill crept up your spine. Movement out of the corner of your eye drew your attention to the door.

Bartolomeo was standing at the threshold, still as stone.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you asked a question you already knew the answer to.

“Why do you have my shirt?”

#ifdyokaat #one piece x reader #bartolomeo #bartolomeo one piece #bartolomeo the cannibal #bartolomeo x you #reader insert #i'll fucking digest you one kiss at a time #yandere #behold... the chapter i have lovingly called.... THE NUKE #for a couple of reasons #enjoy <3 #...while you can~

[vincess-princess]

trying to write original small-form works ended up in this. not exactly small, but it's finished, and that's something considered i haven't finished a thing since 2020

Genres: sci-fi, dystopia, a dash of cyberpunk Word count: 10 228 words Summary: The research facility personnel doesn't like Dex much. Not a single one of them hadn't suffered from one of his meltdowns, be that a bruise or a broken limb. But they aren't getting rid of him. They can't, really. He is the reason the research facility has been built. The military that sponsored it are very interested in a mysterious virus in his body. And Dex? Dex is interested in putting as many spokes in their wheels as he can. Warnings: not spoiling it to you but on AO3 this would have gotten a "creator chose not to warn" tag.

Dex could feel them burrow through his flesh, weaving complex tunnel systems underneath his skin that looked like intricate red webs from the outside. The tunnels healed fast, and the next day the webs would look completely different, each time unique, like a snowflake. All this healing and tearing produced so much scar tissue his skin was growing bumpy and uneven - but at least dead flesh didn’t ache.  

But so far there was still nearly not enough of it in his body to not ache, so much that constant pain fogged his mind, slowed his thoughts and jumbled his perception of reality. It was not so bad, really; pain could hardly break through the veil of fog, and only an occasional sharp spike of acuteness tore through it – but just for a moment, and then everything went thick and bland again.

The medassistant above his head detected Dex’s heartbeat change and awoke with a buzz. Its flexible tendril with a needle at the end began unwinding, aiming at his left arm where constant blood-taking left ugly bruises on the inner side of his elbow. This tendril was considerably faster than the previous three, but not enough that he couldn’t break it too if he wanted. But he didn’t. Not right now, at least.

The needle dug into Dex’s inner elbow and began filling a little vial with coppery blood. The more of them there were, the stronger was the color. His was the brightest in the lab fridge, more so considering that activity in other samples ceased long ago – they couldn’t live outside the host for more than 24 hours.

The tendril drank its due and withdrew. Next to the bed a drawer moved out of the wall. There were two small white capsules inside. Breakfast.

Dex sighed and pushed himself up on the bed. Lowered his bare feet onto the cold floor. Shivers ran up his calves. Would it really hurt the budget to put a rug in here? Anything, really, just to brighten the austere, sterile containment cell, dilute the grey and white with some color.

But the management didn’t like him enough to fulfil his wishes. They didn’t like him at all, to be frank. It was probably all the equipment they had to replace and the new workers they had to hire after yet another of his meltdowns.

Through great effort Dex rose to his feet and shuffled over to the sink in the other corner of the cell. When he waved his hand before the sensor, water poured into his mug – thankfully, he had no restriction on it, because the infection made him really thirsty.

He washed tasteless pills down with water, then climbed back to bed in hope of catching some more shut-eye. The rough fabric of the bedsheet grinded against his skin, inflaming his sharp senses. His brain, flooded with signals of distress, instantly jumped into overwhelm, forcing a groan out of his throat. This was the worst of his illness: lights too bright, sounds too loud, surfaces too uneven, smells too strong. Doctors tried to reduce the sensory input – with limited success: Dex still had at least one meltdown on a biweekly basis. At least not every other day like in the beginning, though.

Just as he wrapped himself in a thin blanket, he heard the elevator on the other end of the hall open and familiar heavy steps approach. The man was limping slightly – seemed like his leg was still healing. Was the management really so short-staffed as to call Mike from his sick leave early? Modern medicine could heal broken bones very fast, of course, but for fuck’s sake, give the poor guy some rest.

Because Dex surely wasn’t gonna do that. As steps grew closer, he stood up and grabbed his mug from the sink, and when the door opened, flung the mug into the figure looming in the doorframe. A thump, an indignant yell and the clatter of the mug rolling across the floor that followed were music to his ears.

“You motherfucker!” Mike yelled. His stubbly face reddened – he was always quick to anger. “I’m so sick of you, you chinch-infested asshole. Can’t wait for them to eat you alive.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Mike. How’s the leg?”

“One day I will get to kick your corpse with it. And I’ll do it. I’ll be the first in line.” Mike promised, kicking the mug with such ferocity it could as well be the aforementioned corpse.

“I sure hope your leg heals by that time. So you can give it your all.”

“It better does.” Mike walked inside, grabbed him by the arm and tugged at it. “C’mon. You’ve got some tests to do.”

“Can’t wait.”

They walked down the hall. It was squeaky-clean, as always – a government research facility had to meet the standards – but there were still crumbs and dust that stuck to Dex’s sensitive feet. Walking everywhere barefoot didn’t help much when that “everywhere” was the lab, the gym and the shower.

Mike led him to the elevator and towards the lab. Dr. Forester waited for them at the door.

“Good morning, Dex,” he said.

Dex ignored him. Dr. Forester didn’t look too upset about it.

“Come in, come in. Mike, I’ll call you when it’s time to escort Dex to the gym.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Mike said to Dex acidly.

“Thanks, I will.”

The guard left. Dex listened to his steps getting quieter until Dr. Forester closed the door.

“Sit down.” He waived at the chair in the center of the lab. “A chair” was not nearly enough to do it justice, though. It was a throne of woe – for the sickest and the damnedest, with cuffs on the handles and at the footrest, a collar where the neck should go and a crown of a neuroscanner above the head. Too much time had he spent on his throne of woe – more than anyone else, as far as he was aware. The longest any other infected lasted at the facility before Dex was four months and eighteen days.

Dex was here for over a year already. He wasn’t sure how much exactly – as time passed, things began to blur. Now his life before the facility seemed a distant memory, a splash of color among the monotony of black and white.

No. He won’t drag those memories to the surface. Burying them again would be too much work.

“I’d really prefer not having to strip you into this.” Dr. Forester patted the throne handle. “That’d do good both to the research and to your well-being. You agree?”

Dex ignored him again. They’ve been through that countless times, and Dr. Forester was right – it hurt no one else but Dex.

Still, he would do it again, and again, and again, until they had to take his body apart limb by limb, but not today. Today the pain was worse than usual, and he didn’t have it in him today. One day wouldn’t change anything anyway.

“Seems like you are. We’ll see, though.” And Dr. Forester picked up a tonometer.

The usual tests followed. Blood pressure, glucose, urine sample, weight, height (Dex added half an inch over his stay at the facility), blood oxygen, ECG, brain scan and he forgot what else. His blood analysis had been completed by that point, and one of Dr. Forester’s assistants – Turner, if Dex remembered correctly – was putting the data into the database.

“Hm. The ironphage concentration is higher than usual today. Another growth period?” Dr. Forester mused at the chart of Dex’s ironphage concentration in the blood. It spawned the entirety of his imprisonment at the facility and grew in spurts: a period of fast growth, a plateau, growth, plateau. Every time Dex hoped a yet another spurt would be the last one, and every time it wasn’t. And it seemed now that another spurt was coming. Not good news for Dex and doctors both.

“It is within acceptable fluctuation, though…” Dr. Forester kept talking, but the sound of his voice faded into the background as another one pushed its way ahead. It was Turner banging on his keyboard like it was his mortal enemy, and the repetitive, annoying clicking rang in Dex’s ears, overpowering everything else. Though not exactly loud to anyone else, it rumbled through Dex’s body, making his muscles tense up and his head hurt. He barely suppressed an urge to cover his ears and instead clenched the handles of his throne so hard his knuckles went white.

“What is it?” Dr. Forester frowned. Damn, he noticed. “Dex, I sure hope you’re not scheming something up. We both know that tranquilizers aggravate your sensitivity.”

“Make it stop,” Dex exhaled. Words came out through great effort. Please, not another meltdown. Triggered by keyboard clicking would be the new low for him to hit.

“Stop what?”

“The banging. Keyboard.”

“Keyboard? Turner!” Dr. Forester quickly identified the culprit. “Tone down that clicking! Or better put it off until Dex leaves. The data won’t go anywhere.”

“Yes, doctor,” Turner said, shooting Dex an unfriendly gaze. Considering that once Dex threw a tonometer at him, leaving a sizeable bruise, Dex understood why.

“Is that better?”

Dex nodded.

“Good. Now, we’re done here. Off to the gym you go.”

Mike and Turner walked him down the hall to another door. There was a corner right behind it, but Dex didn’t know what was there. He never went farther than the gym.

A massive steel door, like that of a bunker, was controlled by a fingerprint lock, and, as Dr. Forester warned Dex, did not react to fingers that were for some reason separated from the body. Not that Dex ever tried, but the warning did change a couple of his plans. All the weapons in the gym were, of course, just training versions of real ones, and couldn’t kill a man, or so he was told – but they were still weapons.

Inside the gym was brightly lit, as always – they never listened to Dex’s requests to tone down the brightness. The rubber-covered floors were squeaky clean – not a trace of blood left from the last time. He’s gotta ask Mike about Trevor – they should have sewn his arm back on already.

The door behind Dex slammed shut. He looked around. The broadaxe he used the last time was missing, and toned plexiglass separating the gym from the observation room replaced. Pity they took away the broadaxe, even a training version. It was heavy enough to leave a good dent and crush a couple of bones.

A robotic voice began reading instructions from a speaker by the ceiling. They were the same from Dex’s first day in the facility, and he could recite them by memory now. The damn white coats kept putting them on every time he came to the gym.

“Shut up!” he yelled at the ceiling. The voice kept reading monotonously. Dex stopped listening.

He headed to the weapon rack and picked up his favorite rifle. It lay heavily in his arms, warm to the touch, like it had just been shot out of. A precise replica of a real-life SVD-X1 shooting rubber bullets. The bullets were real at first, but after the doctors saw enough of Dex’s temperament they replaced all the weapons with their training versions. Still, even the training version of SVD-X1 was light, portable, quick and precise, and reliable like a Swiss watch.

It's been a while since he held Glasha in his arms, and it felt like being reunited with an old friend. It did exactly what Dex wanted from it, didn’t manhandle him and perform tests and experiments on him – what’s more to ask?

Yeah, a bitter thought flashed through Dex’s mind, the facility had really lowered his standards.

The observer – Turner, most likely – must have seen him cradle the rifle and seized the chance. The robotic voice changed its tune mid-word and launched a “precision check”. On the opposite sides of the gym, a good 300 feet away, three targets were lowered from the ceiling. One was about 20 inches wide, the other – 7, and the smallest one – barely 2.

Oh, so they returned to the basics. Out of caution, probably – they didn’t expect him to show his top results after a week of solitary confinement – but Dex could already feel boredom wash over him. He hit those targets during his first month in the facility, why go back to it?

He took his earmuffs off the weapon rack – the gunshots deafened him for good five minutes otherwise – returned to the position and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He felt Glasha’s buttstock nest comfortably against his shoulder, leveled the scope against his eye. He closed his eyes, inhaled and called to the ironphages. Here’s a job for you.

The red webs on his hands filled up and reddened. Adrenaline rushed through his body, overwhelmed his mind with unexplainable confidence, almost like Dex had already seen everything happen. His fingers grew stronger, his hold – more even, Glasha seemed weightless. He narrowed his eyes.

Bang, bang, bang – the three targets fell back and rose ashamedly to the ceiling.

“Boring!” he yelled to the plexiglass, rubbing his shoulder where the recoil hit. SVD-X1 was nearly not as bad as, say, Barrett M72-V1 (not to say lighter), but it was still a sniper rifle. Precision and strike strength came with a price.

Turner must have been annoyed at his expression of boredom: the targets began moving, then doubled in numbers, then sped up. Dex kept shooting methodically, almost without thinking: ironphages didn’t need him to. They granted his arms balance and strength, kept up with the speed, postponed muscle fatigue. Dex reveled in this thoughtlessness, this utter concentration on one thing only: it gave him relief from his thoughts and even lessened the pain.

When the routine was over, Dex was almost disappointed. But then Turner launched the next program – melee. Dex liked it less than precision shooting, but he took what he could get.

He went to the weapon rack, took off the earmuffs and picked a nylon knife. He weighed it in his hand, reminding the ironphages of the weight, the shape of the handle, the point of balance – and then he heard a voice.

Dex was going to brush it off - Turner was speaking on the intercom, probably, - but then another voice joined in. It was low, booming. Then spoke one more person – a woman, judging by the higher pitch. Dex couldn’t make out the words, but could distinguish the intonation quite well.

And it was very telling: both unfamiliar voices were measured, authoritative, commanding. Soldiers spoke like that.

Oh, come on. Dex told them numerous times he would rather die than work with the military, and they never listened. His fingers clenched the handle of the knife. His answer was gonna be the same, and he would show them that.

The knife collided with the glass and bounced off it so hard it landed far behind Dex. It left a shallow dent – they may have reinforced the glass specifically for this kind of Dex’s tantrums, but his growing strength eventually outgrew it, and they couldn’t afford to replace it every couple weeks.

“I ain’t joining the army!” he yelled. His voice echoed all over the gym, rumbled in his ears. Dex winced, but continued.

“Fuck your army and fuck you!” He picked up a heavier knife and flung it at the glass. This dent was noticeably deeper. The ironphages clearly banded up in there to help him convey his point.

The voices behind the glass went quiet for a moment and then began gabbering with growing intensity. The male voice boomed, the female sizzled. Turner could barely be heard – these two must have completely overpowered him. Dex felt no pity for him.

“Fuck! You! Fuck! You!” Dex chanted as he grabbed Barrett M72-V1 off the weapon rack and fired the whole magazine into the glass.

The recoil was so powerful his shoulder exploded with pain, making him drop the rifle with a groan. But it was worth it – the bullets, though rubber, dove deep into the glass and nestled there snugly, framed by snowflake-like halos of cracks.

The glass didn’t break, but his demonstration of discontent sure had an effect on the observers.

“Stop that right now!” Turner’s trembling voice demanded over the loudspeaker.

“Or what?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Turner tried to be ominous, but sounded desperate instead.

“You for real? I’m supposed to be afraid of something I don’t even know about? You’re a horrible negotiator.” Dex picked up another knife and twirled it between his fingers.

“It’s gonna be worse than anything you’ve had before.”

“Really? Now I’m interested. Roll out your new punishment.” Dex flung the knife at the glass again. Turner’s breath audibly faltered at the collision.

“You don’t wanna go through it. Just stop that and you won’t get it,” Turner tried one last time. But Dex was unimpressed.

“Come on! How many guards is that gonna be this time? Ten? Twenty?”

Turner emitted a short laugh. “None.”

Then a hiss came from somewhere above. Dex’s sensitive nose caught a whiff of something bitter and acrid. Then a yellowish gas began blowing into the room, painting everything in vomit-colored residue.

They were sedating him!

Dex couldn’t not agree that this was something new. He’d rather have ten guards. At least those were breakable. He couldn’t break a gas’s leg, try as he might.

“Cowards!” he yelled to the glass, hoping to provoke Turner, but no more sounds came from the loudspeaker. Dex kicked the weapon rack with frustration, but it hurt his toes, so he left it alone. He sat by the wall, coughing as more gas entered his lungs. His head felt heavy and foggy; ironphages, detecting something fishy in the system, rushed to remove the harmful molecules, but they were soon overpowered. The gas was so dense by that point Dex couldn’t see the opposite wall of the gym. It was the first time Dex wished there were more of the phages.

He succumbed to the sedative a couple minutes later. The blissful darkness came abrupt and quick like a hammer to the head.

***

Dex didn’t know how much time he slept – his cell had no windows – but when he woke up, the lights were out. Must be nighttime then.

A headache so bad the hammer might as well have been real kicked in. Moving also didn’t bring much relief: the ironphages were hard at work cleaning his body of toxins and were more active than usual. Combined the pain was so bad Dex could barely move a hand.

He needed to pee, but not badly enough to attempt getting up, so he turned to the other side, pulled up his blanket and fell asleep again.

The next couple days were the same, except he did force himself to pee at some point: they wouldn’t change his sheets with him still in the cell, and he didn’t want to sleep in a wet bed. Dex was thankful for the residual sleepiness that helped him fall asleep hard and fast every time. He wouldn’t be able to bear all that pain while awake.

Aside from the medassistant taking his blood samples, nobody bothered him, or he slept right through it. He was undoubtedly watched – Dr. Forester would never leave his test subject unobserved while on a new drug, because the ironphages’ reaction was unpredictable. They rejected the mildest painkillers with such ferocity Dex thought his insides were burning and limbs torn off piece by piece. Then they healed his broken arm in a matter of days. If at first Dex confidently labeled them parasites, now he was not so sure.

He did wish he never got them, though. As miserable as his life was before the facility, it was still life. This was just existence.

He finally awoke at night, his throat parched and his eyes dry, but the headache was gone and the phages calmed down a bit. He let medassistant take his blood and, looking at the coppery liquid in the vial, realised how hungry he was.

There were six breakfast capsules in his little drawer. So he missed three mornings.

He didn’t have to wait long for someone to remember about him. Mike thumped loudly down the hall and unlocked the door.

“I did not miss you,” he announced from the doorframe.

“C’mon, you’re glad to see me alive and well.” Dex highlighted the last word, smiling.

“The only time I’d be glad to see you is when I get to see your dead body.”

“You’re so rude. Did your mama not teach you manners?”

“Shut up and walk.”

Mike escorted Dex to the lab and handed him over to Dr. Forester, who seemed unusually invigorated. Got another questionable medicine to test on him?

“Dex! How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dex grumbled. He didn’t like talking to Dr. Forester, but he had a request to make. “What was that crap you made me breathe? Could at least tell me beforehand.”

“A new sedative the QC came up with. For larger groups of enemies designated for capture. Our intel has got ahold of its composition, so we recreated it to see it in action.”

“Bet you tested it on regular humans already.”

“That’s right.” Dr. Forester seemed neither surprised nor indignant. He talked about the subject with his usual ease, which did not, in turn, instill ease in Dex at all.

“And?”

“Let me say… the QC chemists have got a load more brainstorming to do if they want a healthy labor force.” Dr. Forester smiled. “Just another proof of our superior technology. Now, as you’re the only remaining test subject,” – Dex winced, - “would you mind describing what inhaling the gas felt like?”

“I might,” Dex began carefully, “if you fulfill my request.”

“Taking advantage of me, huh?” Dr. Forester said light-heartedly. “You’ve got your charm, I’ve got to admit. Ask away – within reason.”

“I want new clothes, these have been worn to bits. And a rug in my cell.”

“Your room, you mean?” Dr. Forester politely corrected him. Dex grimaced. God, who all that farce was for? “Well, that can be done. What color?”

“Pink. And fluffy.”

“I’ll put in an order. Say it’s for science purposes.” Dr. Forester winked at Dex, and he felt like a bucket of sewer water had been upended over him. “Now, let us proceed to our usual tests, and you can tell me about your experience with the gas along the way.”

That day was shower day, and after gym (the plexiglass had already been replaced, as if Dex never shot at it) Dex got to wash off all that sticky, smelly residue of the gas off his body and change into new clean clothes – simple white T-shirt and pants again, but at least without holes between the thighs. No shoes, though – the management believed it could somehow stop him should he make up his mind to escape. Dex could tell them that he would walk on white-hot nails barefoot if it would get him out of the facility, but he knew how paranoid the management was by that point. They could easily make him walk around naked for all he cared.

He sat down on his bed, combing through his hair with his fingers. It had already grown to reach his shoulders, and he didn’t care enough to ask to have it cut. Dex hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in a long while, but he was sure he now looked just like Luke in his rockstar phase, only without that stupid heart tattoo. The girl dumped Luke three weeks after he had it done. Oh how Dex laughed at him.

He missed him. He missed him so much it hurt.

***

The next day he woke up from the pain. It hadn’t happened in a while: as the phages began multiplying and pain increased, so did his body’s adaptability. He cried and screamed on day one and slept soundly on day twenty. This seemed to be day one of another growth spurt, as Dr. Forester predicted.

Every time they believed a spurt would be the last one – a human body simply couldn’t host that many phages – and every time they were wrong.

When Mike came, Dex threw his hand over his forehead in a “dying Victorian maiden” style.

“You’re gonna have to carry me. Bridal style, please.”

“No the fuck I ain’t.” Mike bared his teeth in a smile. “Get up, princess.”

He dragged Dex out of the bed by his leg, forcing him to get on his feet. Then they headed to the lab – five minutes late because they had to fix Dex’s bedsheets that he dragged with him to the floor.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dex told him as the door closed. “See, you can be a very nice guy when you want to.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Mike replied almost endearingly.

He had been working here since the beginning, and stayed as some left and others came. He stayed even after Dex broke his leg – on accident, of course. He didn’t want that chair to hit the guard.

“A bad day?” Dr. Forester greeted him sympathetically as Dex climbed onto his throne of woe. “Your blood tests show a spike in ironphage activity. We will, of course, conduct other analyses, but it’s pretty damning evidence that we’re having a growth period upon us.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dex said.

“Your analyses have shown a slight spike in activity even before the gas, but today it’s much steeper than usual. Could it be prompted by the gas?” Dr. Forester mused over the chart. “If it could… we could force ironphages to replicate by making the host breathe the QC gas. Or- no, I don’t think it’s the gas in particular. We could try other intense experiences and see how they react.”

Of course they could. And who was the only available test subject?..

“Don’t look so grim.” Dr. Forester must have noticed Dex’s face change. “There is nothing the ironphages can’t fix. Or rather,” he added reluctantly, “there has been – so far.”

“This is not a consolation.”

“That’s the only one I can offer you,” Dr. Forester shrugged. Oh how Dex wanted to claw his eyes out.

But Dr. Forester was the head of the research department. Whatever he saw fit to do, he did. The high-ranking military assholes that sponsored him gave him a “freedom of research”, since he was the first one to keep an infected person alive for more than a few months. It wasn’t really his achievement, but who cared what Dex had to say about it?

“Relax,” Dr. Forester told him. “It’s just a hypothesis, and the one I do not intend to test any time soon. Today we have something else to try.”

“Oh, come on,” Dex groaned.

“No-no, it’s not as bad as you think.” Dr. Forester took a small pill box from a table and opened it. A lone red capsule lay inside. It didn’t look remarkable in any way, but the doctor and both his assistants looked at it… almost reverently.

“We’ve been working on a new kind of painkiller for you – the one that would not trigger ironphages – and I have a reason to believe we’ve been rather successful this time. At least your blood samples didn’t react as violently as they did during earlier trials. They didn’t react at all, in fact.”

“Wait, so you got a reaction off my blood tests to all the previous pills and you gave them to me anyway?”

“Of course. Blood tests are not a be-all-end-all. The body might react completely differently. This time, however, we harbor hope for a much better result.” And he handed Dex the pill box.

Dex hesitated for a moment, thinking of throwing it in Dr. Forester’s face. What was that, the sixth painkiller they told him would totally help him?

They would force him to take it anyway, though. Strip him down to the chair and shove it down his throat, or sedate him with the gas and inject it, whatever.

The box cracked in half in his hands – Dex clutched it too tight without even noticing. Then he heard buzzing coming from Dr. Forester’s hand. He was branding his favorite shocker that Dex had become too well-acquainted with for his own liking.

“Don’t make me tase you, Dex,” he warned. His pleasant demeanor slipped off like a mask. A mask it was, in fact. “Just be a good boy and take the pill. I promise you, it’s not worth it.”

Dex knew that. He had learned that resistance it pointless long ago. It never stopped him before, but now… he was tired. Tired from the pain, the brain fog, the constant sensory overload. And this – this was a potential relief, feeble as it could be.

“Fine,” Dex said grimly. “But if it’s another blow-“

“It’s not.” Dr. Forester was growing impatient. “Need water?”

Dex threw the pill into his mouth and swallowed it in a big gulp. It slid down his throat effortlessly.

“Very well.” Dr. Forester looked relieved. “It should take effect in about half an hour, and then you’ll do a regular training routine at the gym. We need to ensure that the pill doesn’t affect your performance.”

Dex did not reply. He listened to his body, and even ironphages seemed to slow down in anticipation: what did this idiot take this time? Should we show him it’s bad to take meds from shady scientists?

Dex waited for more pain to come. He waited. He waited. He waited. The scientists around him returned to their business, paying no attention to him at all. Only Dr. Forester cast an occasional look in his direction – to catch the moment when Dex falls to the floor and starts thrashing and screaming, probably. At least that’s how it went the previous five times.

Then the pain began to fade.

No way, Dex thought. No way had they finally made a drug that could help him. It was impossible. Nothing could help him, least of all these white-coated rats. He had already learned to live with it, in a way. And now in half an hour a little red pill crushed the wall of his indifference he spent a year erecting around his pain and misery.

“Dex? What is it?” Dr. Forester, an observant asshole, noticed his face change and approached. “Do you feel something?”

“No. Yes. No. Not sure,” Dex said hoarsely. “Gimme some time.”

“Alright.” Dr. Forester returned to his work, but Dex could see he was mostly watching him instead of his papers.

And Dex waited, and the pain decreased until only a sore aftertaste of it was left in his muscles.

He forgot how it felt. He stretched his legs, tilted his head, waved his arms. Nothing.

“Well?” Dr. Forester practically ran towards him. At any other time Dex would laugh. “Any effects?”

“It’s gone,” Dex said. “The pain. It’s gone.” His voice came out so much clearer he could barely believe it was his. “What the hell is it?”

“We call it “The Soother”,” Dr. Forester said, smiling. “The best minds of the Federation worked on it for months. All so that you could feel better, Dex.”

“The military paid them,” Dex huffed, but he couldn’t remain skeptical when he could think and feel clearly for the first time in more than a year.

“That too,” Dr. Forester agreed lightly. “A little financial incentive never hurts, you know. Now, we’ve got to take some more tests and you’re off to the gym.”

Dex reveled in sharp pain from the needle in his skin – it didn’t just add to his main pain now, no, it highlighted the contrast between then and now. Then he went to the gym. With a decrease in ironphage activity his reflexes and strength were lacking, but his mind was clearer than ever, and that evened out his performance a bit. Overall, he did pretty good, even though the military rats behind the plexiglass were not quite as satisfied.

Of course, he could hear them – they didn’t particularly try to be quiet. In fact, they were discussing something – not hard to guess what exactly – with great fervor.

The pill worked really well. And Dex really didn’t want to be sedated again. But he hated the military more. So he lay down on the floor, crossed his arms on his chest the way dead people about to be cremated had their arms positioned and closed his eyes.

“Dex?” Dr. Forester said into the dynamic. “What are you doing?”

“Resting.”

“Please continue your training routine.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I ain’t a monkey in a circus.”

“Dex.” Dr. Forester heaved a heavy sigh. “They are our sponsors. They have to see the results of our work.”

“You’ve got your tests. Show them those and leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t.” Dr. Forester’s voice hardened. “You like the effect of the pill, right? Must be nice to not be in pain all the time. Well, it takes money to produce. A lot, in fact. And unless our sponsors see the results, we won’t make any more of it.”

Dex sighed and dove deeper into the feeling of his body. Felt every ironphage, traced every little tunnel they burrowed, tasted the metallic copper of the blood the little tunnels filled with. The phages moved like in slow motion, like they were poisoned roaches that were at the brink of death and didn’t react to humans’ presence anymore. The drug lulled them into sleep, instilled the sense of calm in them, weakened the connection to the hivemind. They still moved, driven by the energy from his blood and fat cells, but now just barely.

Yes, no pain felt good, almost too good to be true. But the relief came from the people he hated most, and it was nauseating.

He got up and continued the routine with cold, slimy shame coiled up in his stomach.

***

“It slows the phages down.”

“That’s right.”

“Ain’t that counterproductive? They won’t help in battle.”

“Oh, the drug isn’t supposed to be taken less than two hours before any intense action. But a couple hours of pain in exchange for a painless rest of the day – isn’t it better than nothing?” Dr. Forester scribbled something on his tablet. “Of course we still have to test for side effects. But what we have now is already promising.”

“And of course I’ll be the test subject.”

“Of course. You have something against it?”

“I…” Dex hesitated. Sure, they ain’t doing it out of the kindness of their hearts, but no pain is no pain. And it’s not like they wouldn’t just make him take the pill by force if he refused. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Dr. Forester made a surprised face. He didn’t really pull it off. “Except the usual tests and daily accounts of your well-being.”

“And how long is that gonna last?”

“Of course, it would be best to conduct a long-term research of five plus years… but we don’t have that time. So, a month.”

A month. It was nearly not enough, but Dex would have time to think.

“Alright. I agree.”

Dr. Forester smiled triumphantly.

“I knew you’d come to the right decision, Dex.”

***

The next month was simultaneously the best and the worst month of Dex’s life. The pain was now present only a couple hours a day, when he was training. His stats did lower, but were still way above those of an average human’s. But now he didn’t have to endure constant pain to get there.

And the military didn’t even try to hide now. The guy with a booming voice was often studying Dex’s tests in the lab with Dr. Forester, and the woman spoke loudly on the phone behind the plexiglass in the gym, perfectly aware that Dex could hear her.

He didn’t do a thing to them, They were the ones paying for his meds that kept the pain at bay. No compliance – pain. The funding had already shrunk by that point – the military didn’t like that it was taking so long. The drug was a breakthrough, though, and now Dr. Forester sported new eye implants and Turner had his crooked – not without Dex’s fault – nose fixed. The activity in the lab picked up, new guards appeared in the corridors (though Dex still interacted primarily with Mike), and the equipment was massively getting replaced with newer one.

“You’ve been on particularly good behavior,” Dr. Forester told him once. “Do you want something?”

“Beer,” Dex said. “And a smoke.”

Dr. Forester frowned. “We don’t know how the ironphages would react to that, and we can’t have a flare-up right now. Anything else?”

“A burrito. With jalapeno.”

That evening Dex was choking on his burrito, his mouth burning. A once adored taste was now unbearable. Maybe it was the phages reacting… but Dex was on the pill. And now that he could feel his inner processes much more acutely, he couldn’t blame ironphages for everything anymore.

He flushed the burrito down the toilet and ended up flooding his cell. He had to spend the night in a different one, on the other end of the hall, and the pillow still retained the smell of a previous resident. Weird – the last time Dex saw another infected was half a year ago. But maybe that were just his sharpened senses.

The medassistant was now drawing three vials of blood a day, and by the end of the first week Dex was feeling weak and dizzy. The ironphages rushed to replenish the blood loss during training hours, and it worsened the pain so much taking a pill after it was like breaking a cold turkey withdrawal. Dex grew even more dependent on it, and despised himself for it. But he couldn’t go back to a 24/7 pain. He just couldn’t.

Then one night he heard an unfamiliar voice. It was crying. “Please stop it. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Please-“

The voice was cut short, but it imprinted on Dex’s brain and didn’t let him go. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew Dr. Forester was capable of anything in the name of “science”.

He was infecting others with Dex’s blood. Ironphages could be transmitted only through blood contamination, which is why the disease was rare. But once infected, the body couldn’t adapt to their activity and the infected was dying a slow, excruciating death over the course of months. Infection could only be transmitted through fresh blood. So that’s why they needed so much of it.

In the morning Dex broke the medassistant. Its details were scattered all over the cell when the guards arrived. Dex spent the night in another cell while the medassistant was being replaced. He didn’t get a pill that day. If anyone was somewhere near, he couldn’t hear them over his own screaming and wailing.

The new medassistant was sturdier than the previous one, but Dex didn’t test it anymore. The next day in the lab he told Dr. Forester outright:

“You infect other people with my blood.”

Dr. Forester didn’t seem surprised. “You’ve always been quick on the uptake, Dex.”

“Why?”

The doctor looked at him tiredly. All that money he was now getting obviously couldn’t buy him some rest: he had dark circles under his eyes and always held onto a cup of caffeine stimulant.

“Dex, you’re a smart boy. You can figure it out yourself.”

Dr. Forester was right. Dex knew it for a long time, just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. “You’re trying to find suitable hosts. Hosts like me.”

“See? You got it already.” Dr. Forester took a sip from the cup. “We still haven’t figured out what it is that makes you so unique. There’s nothing abnormal about your body that can explain your resistance to ironphages. So we decided it’s time to move one from studying your body to finding someone with similar characteristics. The more subjects, the easier to figure it out.”

“Found anything?”

Dr. Forester’s frustrated face was a clear enough answer. Dex always wanted to be special – who didn’t? – but fate was cruel to him: he never imagined what would make him unique.

“Where are all those people coming from?”

“Volunteers.” Dr. Forester shrugged.

“Bullshit. Nobody would agree to that.”

“Some people are desperate, Dex. And the money is good.”

“Why’d walking corpses need money?”

“Well,” Dr. Forester smiled his uncanny smile, “they don’t know they’re walking corpses.”

That was pretty in line with the military – promise lots of money, sign an NDA, and then the person disappears, never to be seen again. Everyone knew the biochemical companies they hired did human testing. Yet there were still fools hoping to get rich quick. Or provide for their families, who the money was automatically directed to once the person “disappeared”.

Dr. Forester was not in the mood to answer more questions that day, and the lack of answers kept Dex awake all night. How many have already been infected? Why did he never see a single one of other test subjects? On early stages the infection was almost unnoticeable – until one day you woke up with your entire body hurting like hell. But months had to pass before that. He couldn’t forget the voice he heard one night. How could the symptoms surface so soon?

Then he remembered Dr. Forester’s offhanded remark about the QC gas triggering growth periods. They used the gas to speed up the process. They used everything they could get out of Dex to infect more and more people.

But they helped him. They soothed his pain, banished the brain fog, dampened his too-sharp senses. He could think and feel clearly again. One considers it a given, something not worth to be grateful for. Not Dex – not anymore.

Days passed. The side effects of the pills turned out to be dry mouth and occasional mild diarrhea. Dr. Forester was content. As it turned out, the pill also slowed down growth periods. The always steep lines on the chart went down. The white coats could now both speed up and slow down the progression of the illness. Only a reversal hadn’t been yet developed. Dr. Forester said they were working on it, but he was lying through his teeth. Dex didn’t expose him. Let him think Dex believed him.

“The pills seem to be working well,” Dr. Forester said casually a few days later. “You look fresher already.”

Dex shrugged.

“We are thinking of extending the trial run for you. But the bosses are not so eager to provide funds, and the pill is expensive to produce.”

“Maybe if you didn’t waste so much money infecting people you would have enough funds for it,” Dex said sharply.

Dr. Forester laughed.

“Oh, son. Those projects they are ready to sponsor. The pill is produced exclusively for you, though.”

“I feel so special.”

“You think you’re joking, but you are, Dex. You are. The sponsors care greatly for you.”

“Well, I don’t care for them.”

“And that’s a shame. There will be no training today. Tomorrow is an important day for us and you both. You better rest, clear your head.”

“What? What day?” Dex pricked up, but Dr. Forester said no more, just made an impatient gesture. Mike led Dex back to the cell.

“All these new guys are absolute dickheads,” the guard complained on the way. “They don’t know nothing yet they think they’re hot shit. Who do they think they are? They imagine the military academy made them all high n’ mighty. Well, a bit of work here will take them down a peg or two. You gotta show them, Dex. Treat them like you treated me. Make them go through hell and high water.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dex heard himself saying. “Sorry, dude. For breaking your leg. You didn’t do me no bad thing. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Eh,” Mike waived him off light-heartedly, “the past is in the past. It healed fast anyway. The BIS treats its workers well - I didn’t pay a single byte for it. Got to spend some time with my family for once, too.”

Yet again Dex spent the night wide awake. He knew what was going to happen tomorrow. Another attempt to recruit him, make him join the army. The army that murdered Luke in cold blood.

All the previous times his refusal was firm and confident, decision made without a second thought. But this time was different. Now he had a major weakness. And they would surely exploit it.

In the morning Mike escorted him to the interrogation room – Dr. Forester called it “negotiation room”, but he couldn’t fool anyone with it. It looked exactly like those interrogation room in cop movies, handcuffs included. They were added after Dex tried to hit an officer. This time, though, he wasn’t cuffed.

“Good luck, buddy.” Mike patted him on the shoulder. Dex smiled weakly.

He had to wait quite a bit for the officer to arrive. She was a tall, strict-looking woman with a perfect bun on her head and cold gray eyes. She was escorted by two Special Forces agents with their fingers on the triggers of their assault rifles. One wrong movement – and they’d season Dex with lead.

The woman sat on the other side of the table and looked Dex right in the eyes. Goosebumps ran down his spine. This one will be hard to deal with.

“Hello, Dex. My name is major Wright.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Cut to the chase." Dex tried to sound firm, but a bit of a tremble did leak into his voice.

“As you wish,” said the major. “You probably know why I’m here. My colleagues have contacted you with our proposition earlier.”

“I do. And they have.” Dex felt that if he looked the woman in the eyes, he would eventually fall for her hypnosis, so he stared at the table.

“Let me repeat it in case you forgot some details. We in Special Forces are always in search of new candidates-“

“Turnover rate too high?”

“It’s actually lower than in other units. That’s because we only work with professionals.”

“I’m no professional.”

“Who are you fooling, Dex? I’ve seen you in action. The best SF snipers could only dream of your skill.”

“That’s not my achievement. Before the infection I couldn’t throw a bottle into the trash can three feet away.”

“What was before the infection doesn’t matter,” major Wright said harshly. “Forget that part of your life. It’s here and now that matters.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For you too. It’s never coming back. You are never coming back.”

Dex knew that already, but at these words something cold turned in his stomach anyway.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“You need to accept this, Dex. The ironphage infection is incurable. You will live with it for the rest of your life.”

“Which, as you might know, may end soon.”

“Maybe – or in a couple decades. Dr. Forester has no prognosis on this. But you’ve survived four times longer than any other infected, and that says something.”

“That just says that I’m lucky. Or unlucky. Depends on the point of view.” Dex clutched his fists under the table. The major poked into his every vulnerable spot.

“Sometimes one lucky soldier draws luck to the entire unit.” The major was disgustingly upbeat. She spoke friendly, but not familiarly. Previous recruiters all pretended to be Dex’s best friend, and it was nauseating. Not this time.

“I’m no soldier. Will never be. I’m just not built this way.”

“No one is born a soldier. But with enough discipline, everyone can become one.”

“You mean – everyone can be brainwashed into killing innocent people for the corpos’ gain?”

The major smiled. “That’s a rather… exaggerated way to put it. Corporations are valuable allies, but they’re not the beneficiaries of this war. The regular people are.”

Dex laughed in her face. It turned out too strained to sound plausible, but did convey his point anyway.

“Regular people are never beneficiaries of the war. They either get recruited, are promised riches and die like cattle on front lines while officers sit in their headquarters strategizing, or they get bombed and killed or displaced. There’s no other option.”

“They can go through the war, come out of it with several medals and not know poverty until the rest of their lives,” the major said. “Get free healthcare, a monthly pension, social benefits, free education for their children. That happens more often than you think.”

“And are all those soldiers in the room with us right now?” Dex said acidly.

“Funny.” The major smiled dryly. “Did you consider that maybe you just mix in with the wrong people?”

“The only wrong people I mix in with are you and the likes of you.”

The major rolled her eyes. “You truly are as stubborn as I heard.”

“My pleasure.”

“Then why do you think so many people enlist? If the army was that bad, people would avoid it like the plague, wouldn’t they?”

“They are idiots,” Dex said sharply.

The major smiled. “So your brother was an idiot, too?”

Dex’s stomach sank. They never mentioned Luke before, though he didn’t doubt a bit knew all about him. Maybe they thought it was too sensitive a subject. Regardless, that changed. And this woman, this soldier, would undoubtedly use him to their advantage.

“Yes. He should have never enlisted.”

“But he dragged you out of poverty. He sent your family quite big sums of money for a while, didn’t he?”

That was true. When Luke enlisted, the family finally had food on the table and paid bills. They even managed to move out of a communal roach-infested room to a small but cozy two-room flat. All while Luke was risking his life on the front lines.

“He should have never enlisted,” Dex repeated.

“It was going well, wasn’t it? His contract was almost over, and he even thought of prolonging it. His squadmates liked him, his commander praised him.”

“That praise was worth nothing.”

“In the ranks it is worth quite a bit. He could have been promoted within a year.”

“He could have been killed a thousand times over that year.”

“But he wasn’t, right? The enemy didn’t kill him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dex hissed, his anger rising in his chest – anger mixed with grief, as he could feel tears well up in his eyes as well, and the last thing he wanted right now was cry in front of the woman tearing his heart to bits. “War would have killed him sooner or later.”

“You’re rather pessimistic. Do you know that only 15% of active duty personnel die within first two years of service?”

“And how many die later?”

The major smiled a tight-lipped smile. “They have more experience, so even less. But that doesn’t matter – your brother didn’t plan to stay for much longer anyway. He could have waited for the end of his contract instead of going AWOL, though.”

“All the senseless violence must have gotten to him.”

“By that time soldiers are already pretty desensitized to it.”

“Not Luke. He was always… compassionate. Too much, even.” Dex remembered Luke’s calls from the army. When parents could see him, he was always smiling, but when he was left alone with Dex, his face always turned grey and tired.

The major smiled. “You’d be surprised at how quickly “compassionate” people forget about it on the battlefield. It’s you or the enemy, and no one chooses the latter… except your brother.”

“You’re talking bullshit. He didn’t defect. I know he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Whatever the reasons, he was found on an enemy territory alone – so, a defector. And we do not stand them in our ranks. Dex, it takes a lot to sentence the soldier to death. We don’t kill our people left and right with no rhyme or reason. But what Luke did was not a simple misbehavior – it was treason.”

“It’s just a convenient excuse to punish those not in line with your views,” Dex croaked. His throat was dry – from medication, surely.

“It’s the army,” Wright said harshly. “Soldiers who act out of line disrupt the service of whole squads. We cannot let that happen.”

“So Luke was just a scapegoat to scare others into obedience.”

“The “scapegoats”, as you call them, eventually reveal themselves with their own actions. Thinking differently is not a sin. Sawing unrest between others is.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” Dex shook his head. “You killed my brother. Whatever he did, he didn’t deserve death.” Dex was growing tired of this senseless talk. Whatever he said, major Wright always found a reasonable counterargument. He knew she was wrong, but he couldn’t prove it to her – and he feared soon he wouldn’t be able to prove it to himself.

“If you fear the same fate, Dex – you needn’t to,” Wright said unexpectedly softly. “He was an average soldier. You – you are special.”

Dex hated how often he heard that. He never chose a body that could resist a mysterious, 100%-lethal infection that also happened to turn people into supersoldiers. He never wanted that.

“So you will just imprison me for the rest of my life instead of killing?”

“What, are you planning something bad already?” The major smiled dryly. “Just hear me out, alright? And then make up your mind. No pressure.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dex murmured skeptically, but the major didn’t hear him – or pretended to.

“Here’s what we can offer you. Free food and lodging at one of the SF outposts – with personal rooms for every agent, each with a bathroom. Medical and life insurance – any injury, we’ll pay for treatment in full. Your family members are included in the insurance. In case you die, they are paid a significant sum of money. You will keep receiving treatment for your infection – a pill three times a day except before ground operations. And, of course, your salary… starting wage is 50 000 bytes a month.”

Dex couldn’t hold back a surprised gasp. This was more than his family earned in a year. This could pay for 50 of their monthly rent.

The major clearly enjoyed his reaction.

“Sounds compelling?” she said.

Dex ignored her, ashamed that he let his astonishment through. Now she knew how much the sum shook him.

“What about the phages?” he asked after a minute of stunned silence.

“We will keep working on a treatment,” said the major. “But we’ve got no guarantees that we’ll find it – if it’s even possible to create.”

Of course. They were interested in keeping the infection going – to get more supersoldiers into the SF. No matter that they would only last a few months – if someone would be as unlucky as Dex, maybe a year, - they would milk them dry and then silence the family with a fat check and a postcard with condolences.

He could feel the cold touch of her gaze on his skin. She was waiting, convinced of her success.

“I need to think about it,” he finally said – almost whispered.

She didn’t betray her satisfaction by a single gesture, but Dex could see more than other people. She won. Or so she thought.

“Of course,” Wright said. “I will come back tomorrow to hear your answer.”

She got up, waved to the guards and headed to the door. “See you tomorrow, Dex.”

Mike soon came to pick him up.

“How’d it go? You don’t seem too excited.”

“As usual.” Dex shrugged.

“You refused again?”

“Said I’ll think about it.”

“Wow, really?” Mike grinned. “That’s progress. What changed your mind?”

“I didn’t say it changed.”

“Alright, alright, you secretive motherfucker. I’ll find out everything eventually. You know, as much as Dr. Forester tries to stop it, everyone here knows everything about you. All the news spread fast.”

“You are all filthy gossips.”

“And you are our favorite subject to discuss. Now live with it.”

Dex rolled his eyes. “I feel like a micro-celebrity already.”

When they neared the cell, Mike’s face grew serious.

“If you didn’t just say that so they’d leave you alone… give it some thought, really. Being in the army is not as bad as it seems. Pays well too.”

“Indeed it does,” Dex murmured as the cell door closed behind him.

He shuffled over to the bed and lay down on his side facing the wall. He already knew what he had to do. He just needed to wait till night.

***

Eventually he fell asleep, but then awoke abruptly, as if someone yelled in his ear. The lights were out, and only faint light from the hall seeped through the small window in the door, a smidge of white on black tile.

Dex opened the pill drawer and took out the Soother. Swallowed the pill and lay back on the bed, waiting for it to take effect.

This time the phages resisted longer than usual, as if their little brains sensed something. They couldn’t read Dex’s thoughts – he checked – but they knew his body’s reactions to them. Didn’t matter, though – the pill overpowered them at any rate. Eventually their rushing slowed down to bare crawling, and the buzz of their nanomotors grew almost silent.

Time to act. This was his last pill on the trial – whether he would get a refill tomorrow depended on his answer.

He grabbed his mug from the sink, poured water in it and drank anxiously. Cold water slid down his throat and into the stomach. Every cell on its way reveled in its blissful coolness and smoothness. The true pleasures of this world were simple, really.

The mug was ceramic – a gross oversight on the management’s part. It survived multiple collisions with Mike and the ground, so they were kinda justified in not taking it into account. Dex kept it for a vague “occasion” on purpose. And the occasion was now.

He flung it into the floor with all his might. The mug cracked audibly. Then Dex jumped on it. Ceramic broke into large, sharp shards under his bare feet. Pain spiked up his calves, but the Soother quickly blended it in with the rest of the pain it was keeping at bay.

Dex picked up one of the pieces and placed it on the sink, then swept the rest under the bed. He raised his gaze and looked over the silent medassistant hanging over his head.

“Time we check your durability, pal.”

The tendril did not give up easily. When Dex finally tore off the needle, his face was sweaty and his arms hurt. The cruelly dismembered medassistant hung over the bed disapprovingly.

The needle was good three inches long. Just enough for Dex’s plan.

When he picked up the shard again, his hands were shaking. But the phages, sleepy as they were, came to his rescue even now, giving his fingers much needed strength. He pressed the sharp end to his inner arm and unflinchingly dragged it down, tearing the skin.

The gash quickly swelled with blood. Dex licked some off, tasting the copper. The infection changed even the taste of his body. It changed everything in him. There was no real Dex left. Just a host carrying around the most precious virus on earth.

And the military wasn’t gonna get it. At least from Dex.

There were other hosts, of course. The white coats would continue their work using their blood. But it would no longer be Dex’s. His phages will die after 24 hours, and their lifeless bodies would not infect anyone else. Nor will the doctors be able to learn what made Dex so different. No learning – no replicating. No replicating – no long-lasting supersoldiers. And with such a high turnover rate, the SF will dump the idea soon enough.

He sighed and dragged the shard across his right inner arm. The blood from the left arm already stained his clothes. Were Luke here, he would have made a stupid menstruation joke.

Luke wasn’t here, though.

Dex bit his lip, watching the blood run down his arms onto the floor. He waited for a small puddle to gather at his feet. The phages tried to make up for it, of course, but they were slow and sleepy like flies in the hot summer sun. They couldn’t do much about it.

Leveling the shard against his neck, Dex inhaled sharply. He was scared, of course. He never died before. (“You only die once, stupid!” said Luke in his head). Well, everything must happen for the first time.

He pressed the shard into the skin until he felt blood trickle down his neck. This was deep enough, then.

With a sharp, precise movement he cut his own throat.

His mouth filled with the taste of copper, blood streamed down his neck. He could no longer speak; he could barely see, his vision darkening.

But he had to make sure the phages wouldn’t bring him back to life.

With one last desperate move he drove the needle of the medassistant through his eye straight into his brain.

#writers of tumblr #writeblr #sci fi #dystopia #cyberpunk #my writing #bloodeaters #work has been going slow since february so i wrote there when i had nothing to do #and a small sketch turned into...this #please read and tell me what you think. i havent posted a lot of my original writing on here and want to know your opinion

[jennycalendar]

upside-down-y

“What do I do?” said Willow. She sounded so little in that moment. Suddenly, Jenny wasn’t imagining that woman in a clean-cut black suit and heels, but the little girl in striped sweaters and white tights. “If there’s no—word—for it? I like being a lesbian, or I thought I did, but I can’t call myself that if I like Oz. And I think I do.” “You don’t need a word for it,” said Jenny simply. “I need a word for it,” said Willow, a stress on the pronoun. “Maybe people in general don’t, but I do.” “Maybe there isn’t one.” “I need—” Willow’s breath hiccupped. “I need the words, a-and the rules. To make sure I don’t—” Abruptly, Jenny knew who Willow needed to be talking to.

decided that, in lieu of tonight's blogging, now might be a nice time to post a tumblr-only exclusive that i've not yet figured out how to work into the canon of what you make! i would like to write a larger fic about willow's adventures at some point, & also figure out when this development will happen within the timeline, and once i do, i think i'll understand better how to work this thing in. (but it is definitely what happens.)

this requires no knowledge of my sprawling fic 'verse except for: it's an everybody lives/nobody dies au, jenny and giles are together with their eight-year-old son, this is a few years post-series.

read for -- giles and willow having frank and very loving discussions about sexuality, jenny calling willow "baby" because she's now a mom who does that kinda thing, briefest sleepiest calendiles child cameo!!!

~~~~~

Willow called at some godawful hour, late enough for it to be edging towards early-morning and for Jenny to be too tired to check the time. She happened to have been pulling an accidental all-nighter that had spun out from a few lines of code that just would not cooperate, so she managed to catch the phone before the second ring, hoping that it hadn’t woken up anyone upstairs. The shrill tone felt impossibly loud to her tired ears. “’lo?” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

Anxiously, Willow said, “Jenny!” and then didn’t say anything else, her breathing nervous and rapid on the other end of the line.

“Willow.” Jenny was too sleepy to think. “You. Need something?”

“I don’t know! I just! Something happened and I can’t tell Buffy about it, and I can’t tell my mom, because she’ll think—well—she keeps saying she approves of the political implications of my lesbianism, so I feel like this is going to go over like a lead balloon, but I don’t know—I mean, I don’t think I’m straight again! It hasn’t—”

Jenny felt very much like this was a conversation that required her to be more awake than she was. Shuffling over to the kitchen table, she took a long sip of coffee. “The political implications?” she repeated skeptically.

“It’s just—we—” Willow took a wobbly breath in, then, in an exhaled confession: “I kissed Oz!”

For one bizarre, sleep-deprived moment, Jenny was convinced that she’d somehow been thrown back in time to 1997. “Oz?” she repeated. “Like, Oz, Oz?”

“Like Oz Oz!” Willow confirmed tearfully.

“Like your high school boyfriend Oz?”

“He was in Istanbul for some—thing—I don’t remember—and I wish I could say that we got drunk or high or something, but I was really only a little buzzed, and he was completely sober, and we were talking about everything we’ve been up to—he was the road manager for this really cool Eastern European band, and, and he’s been doing some networking with other werewolves, and oh, that’s part of why we met! We were talking about all of the complexities of connecting werewolves to resources that will help, and the stigma, and he’s really—well—he never really did much in high school, which I used to have such a complex about because I felt like he could do more than he was doing, but I guess I’ve changed because I just felt, I was so happy to see him doing things that mattered to him! And then that they also have a positive impact! And he’s still got that, that smile where when he looks at you, you sorta feel like you’re the only girl in the entire world! He still looks at me like I’m just the same, and I thought at first, you know, maybe that was why I felt all fuzzy and warm around him, because I’m a horrible person who gets off on validation, but then I started looking at him too and seeing that boy and—and—remembering—”

Jenny had absolutely no idea why any of this was a problem, but her ability to assertively interrupt the Willow-babble was significantly impaired when she was inches away from nodding off in between sentences. “Isn’t that good?” she tried, but Willow had not at all stopped talking.

“—and then we kissed and we actually did a little more than kissed, like, there was some over-the-clothes action and some grinding, except then when we stopped all of that, he walked me to my hotel! Like a gentleman! And he kissed me on the cheek and said he was really happy to share this moment with me, and who even does that??? What do I do now???? What if I’ve just—but I loved Tara so much! I still love Tara! I mean, I have NC-17 dreams about Tara, those wouldn’t happen if I’m straight! And I haven’t been with a guy since Oz, and I haven’t wanted to be with a guy since Oz, but now I want to—to call up Oz and be with him! Which, hello, so clingy, it was just one really nice month and then a whole bunch of kissing—”

“—wait, you’ve been spending a month with Oz in Istanbul and it’s only now become romantic?”

“WE WERE AT A CONFERENCE,” said Willow, as though this explained anything at all.

Jenny sat down at the kitchen table. “Willow—” God, she wanted to be asleep. “People can be bisexual,” she managed.

“But I’m not!”

“So you’re not into men?”

“But I am!”

She was going about this all wrong. “Baby. Are you into men or are you into Oz?”

A long silence. Then, timidly, “There’s not a difference, though, is there? You can’t be a real lesbian if—”

“Please God don’t turn into one of those witches,” said Jenny, who did not have the energy to be tactful. “Willow, there’s no way to be a real lesbian. There’s no manual. We define ourselves with the words that feel best for us, that’s what the queer community is about. What’s the word that feels best for you, right now?”

Another long silence. “I don’t know if the word is lesbian,” said Willow uncomfortably. “I don’t—I didn’t—really—question it? When it happened. It was Tara, first, and then Kennedy, and then a whole bunch of other girls, y’know, on account of the traveling, and then nobody at all for a little while, so I just—I wanted to kiss girls and I stopped looking at guys, and the only guy I ever noticed before Oz was Xander, and Xander, I didn’t know he was everything. They don’t tell you in high school what to do with someone who’s everything, they just say you should marry him if he’s a guy, but I don’t—I’ve never really wanted to marry Xander. We’re not like that. So I figured, Oz, he was just a fluke! Especially because of how everything with Tara happened, and I never thought any guy was pretty like I think girls are pretty, but—I don’t know. Oz is different. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Jenny leaned back against the wall, listening.

“I don’t know if the word is lesbian,” Willow repeated. “But—it doesn’t feel right to say that the word is bisexual, either. I’ve dated more girls than guys, now. I’ve built my life around imagining a girl there.”

“But Oz is different,” Jenny prompted.She was met with a tiny sigh in response. “Is that bad?”

“What do I do?” said Willow. She sounded so little in that moment. Suddenly, Jenny wasn’t imagining that woman in a clean-cut black suit and heels, but the little girl in striped sweaters and white tights. “If there’s no—word—for it? I like being a lesbian, or I thought I did, but I can’t call myself that if I like Oz. And I think I do.”

“You don’t need a word for it,” said Jenny simply.

“I need a word for it,” said Willow, a stress on the pronoun. “Maybe people in general don’t, but I do.”

“Maybe there isn’t one.”

“I need—” Willow’s breath hiccupped. “I need the words, a-and the rules. To make sure I don’t—”

Abruptly, Jenny knew who Willow needed to be talking to. “Baby, can you just stay on the line?” she asked gently. “Just for a second, I gotta—” and she set down the phone, stepping quietly out of the kitchen and into the unlit hallway, halfway up the stairs to the little landing between the first and second floor, where the bedroom door was still ajar.

Her baby was asleep in the middle of the bed, curled against Rupert like a little puppy; his dozing father’s arm was round his shoulders. Jenny leaned over the bed, carefully untangling a drowsy Art from Rupert. Art, always cuddly in slumber, whined; she ran her fingers through his hair, and he settled. “Rupert,” she murmured, shaking her guy awake. “Rupert.”

“Mmh?” Rupert stirred.

“Rupert, it’s Willow.”

Rupert’s eyes flew open. She saw the panic and gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze, pressing her forehead briefly to his. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay. She’s okay. Nothing bad. She just needs to talk to you.”

~~~~~

Willow waited on the line, listening to the crackly static, trying not to breathe too loudly for fear it would tumble into crying before Jenny came back. She heard rustling on the other end and held her breath, waiting, until Giles, his voice all rough and sleepy like it got during those old early morning research sessions, said, “Hello, Willow.”

“Giles,” Willow all but sobbed, feeling a rush of relief. “Did—did Jenny—tell you?”

“Some of it,” said Giles. “Just the loose pencil sketch, really. But I’d like to hear it from you.”

Maybe the Oz stuff wasn’t really why Willow had called Giles. “How do you know when to stop playing by the roles you made up when you were twenty-two and trying not to be the kind of asshole who destroys the universe?” she said, all in one breath. “I, I didn’t decide I was a lesbian because of the magics, but I decided it while I was in the magics, and I wanted to be good at being a lesbian, but now I’m worried that I’m not, if, if I kissed Oz and I liked it. I don’t know what the word is for that.”

“Bisexual?” said Giles.

“That’s what Jenny said but it isn’t that!” said Willow tearfully. “And lesbian doesn’t feel like it’s right either, even though it did for years before this!I don’t know what it is! I like girls and I like Oz, but I don’t like—I don’t want—I don’t think I want, but I don’t know—I wasn’t trying to look, after Tara, because I thought it was simple as—”

“Does there need to be a word for it?”

“That’s what Jenny said!”

A soft, tender laugh, the likes of which Willow hadn’t heard since she was in high school. She loved that laugh so much. It always meant that Giles knew the answer, and really, the problem wasn’t anything to be that afraid of, and five minutes from now, the world would feel okay again. “Willow,” said Giles. “Nothing in a person’s heart is ever finite. We are always—always—growing and changing past the words we used to describe ourselves five, ten, fifteen years ago.”

“But what if I—” Willow swallowed. “What if I change wrong?”

Giles didn’t answer for a couple of the worst seconds of Willow’s life. Finally, gently, he said, “Then you right yourself, if you can. Lean on others, if you can’t. We’re all muddling through. There’s no certainty that I can give you, as much as I wish that I could, but I can—” Now it was his turn to pause. A heavy one. “I can tell you that I love you,” he said, finally.

She had never heard him say that to her before. Not that directly, anyway. “I love you too, Giles,” Willow whispered. The whole thing felt faintly unreal: that she could say those words, and not snatch them back. Not watch his face contort uncomfortably as he tried to wriggle out of genuine emotional expression. “I just don’t wanna do what I did to everyone. And I don’t—if I was wrong, if I’m not—”

“I don’t think that you were wrong,” Giles countered. “You used the words that made sense to you at the time. Those words might not make sense with who you are now. Who you’re growing into. This is good, Willow. You questioning this is good, and healthy. I think…you need to become comfortable with the notion of not having that neat answer, or that label, if the notion of a label has become…restrictive.”

“I don’t want to not be a lesbian,” said Willow unsteadily. “It made everything make sense, when I found out about that word—”

“Does it help you now?”

Willow exhaled. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know. I don’t want to not kiss Oz. It feels like I got turned all upside-down-y again.”

Giles was quiet again. Then he said, “When I was in my twenties, my group, it was all men, save one. Diedre. It hadn’t been intended, her being a part of the group. We’d all wanted a place to…to be ourselves, free of societal expectations.”

Willow’s heart flipped over. This was not something Giles had ever talked about. She’d known, of course—pieced it together through Ethan, and what she’d learned, later, about the kind of magic Giles got up to, but to hear it from him was completely different. She wanted to say something, affirm that she was there on the other end of the line, but she was halfway afraid that he would change his mind if he remembered that she was listening. She held her breath.

“I…didn’t mind the notion of including women within our group, even then.” Giles laughed softly. “It wasn’t something I talked about with the rest, but I wasn’t—I’ve never really—it’s always been about the person, for me, you see. Ethan and the rest, though, they…it wasn’t usual for them to, ah, prefer the company of a woman. They abhorred the very notion. But that was simply how special Diedre was. To, to all of us.”

Something tight and knotted in Willow’s chest was beginning to loosen. She sat down on the hotel bed, curling her fingers around the phone, listening like her life depended on it.

“You, you don’t need to have the right words for it, Willow,” said Giles gently. “Lord knows we didn’t know any of them. And I’d never—endorse—the other sort of things I got up to back then, but I, I think I’ve spent a lot of time refusing to engage with the parts of my life that have been…joyful. All because I was ashamed of the person that I was then.”

Willow wasn’t ashamed of high school Willow, exactly. It was just that sometimes it was hard to reconcile Willow-then with Willow-now, and that wasn’t even getting into the Willow-in-between. “So, for them, it was…guys plus the one exception,” she said uncertainly.

“Do you need to know what it was?” Giles’s tone was mildly pointed. Instructive.

“If I don’t—”

“What if you don’t?”

“I mean, that’s why I’ve been traveling,” said Willow, halfway timid. “To learn stuff.”

“And what have you learned?”

Willow closed her eyes, half-afraid of the answer. Oz had smiled at her in the light of the full moon, unencumbered, gentle. He’d listened to stories about Tara and Kennedy and everyone with thoughtful patience. He hadn’t made a single move. The kissing had happened by accident, and because she’d initiated it, and the nice thing about Oz was that he didn’t question that. He didn’t have a whole bunch of things to say about whoa, hold on, didn’t you go gay and change your mind about me? He just smiled at her, like he saw her, saw right down into her bones, and like what he saw was good.

And she’d missed him so much. The pinwheeling way he talked about things had baffled her when she was in high school, but now, after years of traveling, it was nice to be with someone who had just as many strange questions and quiet observations as she’d been collecting herself. She liked hearing him tell his stories. She liked him. She liked the person he’d become, and the person that she was with him. The people that they could maybe be together.

“I think I’ve learned that I wanna kiss Oz again,” she said, barely a whisper.

She could hear the smile in Giles’s voice. “That’s lovely, Willow,” he said. “I’m very happy for the both of you.”

~~~~~

Giles went back to bed. Jenny and Art had taken up just about all of it, making it nigh impossible for him to lie down comfortably. An attempt to nudge Art a bit further towards the middle was met by an unhappy, half-awake whine that positively tore at his heart, so he resigned himself to sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed for three minutes before Jenny, half awake, said, “Honey. Are you being stupid again?” and pulled Art against her like a teddy bear, clearing space for him in the middle.

“Don’t solve all of my problems for me,” said Giles, lying down and reaching to squeeze her shoulder. Their arms encircled Art, who turned his head towards his mother, soft dark curls against her sweater.

#fic #never mind the years of wasted time #giles and willow #jenny and willow #AND: #willoz #BUT only in the background!!!! #this is a fic that truly belongs on ao3. but i have to work some stuff out first

[olliandre]

10 TOP RANKED THAI BL ON MYDRAMALIST

+my opinion, since I’ve watched all of them for this post

1. I Feel You Linger in the Air (8,9/10)

DESCRIPTION: Jom is an architect responsible for the renovation of a historic house alongside the Ping River. There he discovers a wooden chest packed with old drawings, drawings that look strangely familiar. The contents are intriguing. However, Jom doesn't have time to concern himself with them; he has plans to reunite with his boyfriend. For years, Jom has been counting the days till his boyfriend would return from his far away studies, only to find him engaged to someone else on his return. Heartbroken, Jom comes to a place of acceptance as he mistakenly runs his car into the river. In the cold darkness, Jom catches the sweet scent of fresh frangipani flowers coming from the stream and in the distance, he can make out a deep, gentle voice pronouncing clearly, "Pho Jom."

MY TAKE: Well deserved first place. It’s the best Thai drama I’ve ever seen and I really hope we’ll get more like this one in the future. Everything was on point - the costumes, the acting, the cinematography. The relationship between the main characters felt real and absolutely believe, especially thanks to P’Bright (Khun Yai), who delievered everything well through his eyes. The story made me emotional to the point I cried like a baby at the end, which didn’t happen for a really long time. To be honest, I could rewatch this series without ever getting bored because of how unique and heartwarming it was. If I were to criticise anything, I’d choose the fact that Jom seemed quite bland during the first few episodes and also the way Khun Yai wasn’t cautious at all with their relationship despite living around the 1920s. However, it can be explained by some things from the novel, which I’m considering to write a post about. Aside from the romance plot, IFYLITA discussed the topic of women’s opression and offered a lesbian sub-plot that made the story even better. I recommend everyone to watch it, it’s ridiculous how little recognition the series got from the BL fandom!

2. The Sign (8,6/10)

DESCRIPTION: For as long as Tharn can remember, he's had premonitions about those around him, sensing both the good and the bad. Partners on a team of special investigators, when kind and cheerful Tharn met clever and charming Phaya, it felt as though they'd known each other for a long time.

MY TAKE: Another gem showing that the industry is slowly heading to a new, better direction. The plot contains lots of action scenes, investigations and Thai mythology elements, which I don’t think have been used in any series before, at least not in a well known one. I’m a sucker for reinarnation and soulmates motives, I wish Tharn and Phaya believed in each other more though. It was frustrating to see them fight so much. Some of the comedy scenes made me cringe, too. Still, the story was solid and engaging, especially thanks to Tharn and Phaya’s relationship complexity. During some scenes CGI was used and I have to admit they must have spent some budget on it. It’s the third Idolfactory’s drama and they definitely get better with every project. More series like The Sign!

3. Last Twilight (8,5/10)

DESCRIPTION: Burdened with heavy debt, Mhok, a technical college student, applies for a high-paying job as a caregiver to Day, a badminton player with partial blindness due to infectious keratitis. Day hires Mhok who—unlike other applicants—seems to take no pity on him. With so much time spent in each others' company, the two develop a deep bond. When Day learns he'll have approximately 90 days until he loses what vision he has remaining, how will the two weather the trials ahead?

MY TAKE: I’m gonna be honest, I fell in love with Last Twilight very quickly. The acting was top-notch - I think P’Sea portrayed a blind character really well despite having vision and P’Jimmy… P’Jimmy was just on another level of greatness. Just like P’Bright, his eyes told everything. Every emotion could be seen clearly and he efortlessly made Mhok the viewer’s favourite. Mhok itself was a mature, selfless person, but with Jimmy’s portrayal I think it’s even harder not to love him, not be enchanted by him. I found the story heartwarming and moving, beautifully culminating in the last scene of the 9th episode. At that moment I’ve felt that both Day and Mhok’s journey found some sort of an ending, maybe terribly sad, but also with some sweetness in it. Throughout the whole series it was Mhok teaching Day how to live again after losing his sight and encouraging him to stand on his own legs again. In the 9th episode though it seemed like the dynamic shifted somehow, showing that Day reached some maturity that Mhok haven’t had yet, and that he could help him with his grief too. The whole message of Last Twilight was delivered fully then. However, what happened later completely ruined it. I understand that P’Aof wanted LT to be realistic and because of that he decided to face the fact that Mhok can’t be Day’s caretaker forever. But all of this was handled poorly, seemed rushed especially after 11 episode and I couldn’t bear to watch one of my favourite series trashing itself. After that it was also imposible to ignore the issues I had with Mhok and Day’s relationship anymore, especially the August plot. I hated how although Day showed huge interest in Mhok on the beginning, he suddenly revealed his crush on other boy and he seemed really bothered by Mhok’s confession, too. What a mess. Porjai and Night’s subplot was great though, I liked both the characters and their relationship. I recommend everyone to just watch episodes 1-9 despite some disappointments on the way.

4. Not Me (8,5/10)

DESCRIPTION: Black and White are twins with a powerful connection. After their parents' separation, though, White’s father took him abroad, and their family effectively severed in two. It isn’t until fifteen years have passed that White—now grown—returns to Thailand. One day, seemingly from nowhere, White feels an agony like death. He recovers in the hospital, but they’re unable to determine the cause. Then he picks up a call from a childhood friend, Tod. Tod tells him that Black is in a coma following a vicious attack, and he learns that Black is in a motorcycle gang. Unable to endure the harm done to his brother in silence, and suspecting it was one of Black’s close friends—Sean, Gram, or Yok—who betrayed him, White disguises himself as Black to root out the traitor. But White doesn’t know his brother as well as he thought; he’s not behaving like the Black Sean knows, distrustful and uncaring about the feelings of others. Sean's suspicious. The difference gets under Sean's skin and makes him feel things he shouldn’t.

MY TAKE: I’ve actually first started watching Not Me around the time it was coming out, but I became bored around the half of it, so I’ve seen the rest of the episodes just recently. It’s refreshing to receive a politics and society problems oriented BL, this series without doubt was mature and one of a kind. Not Me took on many issues the modern Thailand still faces, struggling with democracy, human rights and equality. The relationship between White and Sean was another difficult thing here with its complexity, as they faced their opposite ideas for making a change - Sean being more reckless and hotheaded, while White more rational and fragile mentally. They went through many stages and although they were allies, it’d call it an enemies to lovers dynamic. I felt connected to both of them - to White because I agreed with his methods more and to Sean because of his abandonment issues. What they had was not pretty, no, it was raw and even rough at times, however, they managed to build mutual trust and the ending was satisfying. Definitely recommend!

5. A Tale of Thousand Stars (8,5/10)

DESCRIPTION: After a volunteer teacher Torfun dies in a tragic accident, her heart is transplanted into Tian. Tian learns about his donor’s life through a series of diary entries that reveal her secrets and interests. Included is her promise to count a thousand stars with Chief Forest Officer Phupha. Tian decides to follow in Torfun's footsteps and fulfill her promise. Now a new volunteer teacher himself, Tian attempts to befriend Phupha who initially gives him the cold shoulder. As the two grow steadily closer, Tian notices his new heart beats quickly whenever he's near the officer. Much like the heart’s previous owner, Tian cannot help but fall for Phupha. Treading on dangerous ground, can he still go through with the thousand-star promise?

MY TAKE: It’s such a classic that I don’t know if there’s anyone who hasn’t heard of it yet, but let’s proceed! 1000 stars for years took a special place in my heart, as it was one of few good Thai BL during the time it came out. I loved the rural atmosphere of Pha Pun Dao and the process of Tian adapting to life in the village. The story was slow, warm and sort of pure, although the tension and chemistry were there. Big kudos for the scene in which Tian came to the conclusion that his feelings for Phupha mean he likes men, since that wasn’t a standard in the „I don’t like men, I only like you” era. Another thing is, P’Mix (Tian), who was a rookie back then, played his role so well that I would never suspect it’s his first time acting! Recommend for anyone seeking comfort, even if it gets sad by the end.

6. My School President (8,5/10)

DESCRIPTION: Student body president Tinn has a secret crush on Gun, the head of the music club and lead singer of the middling band Chinzhilla. The son of the principal, Tinn is instructed to axe any clubs that don't boost their school's reputation. The music club tops that list and Tinn is therefore Gun's number one enemy. Desperate to save his club, Gun will do anything, even pledge servitude to Tinn. When Tinn learns Chinzhilla has a rule that band members aren't permitted to date until they win the Hot Wave Music Contest, he vows to do whatever it takes to help them do just that.

MY TAKE: At first the fact that the story takes place in a high school setting put me off, as I prefer watching young adult stories, but I gave it a shot because of the good reviews. And after watching it I can say it was definitely worth it. My School President is a silly rom-com that delicately touches some more serious issues. Nevertheless, it was a light watch. N'Gemini and N'Fourth delievered an excellent performance, accurately and realistically portraying the main couple. Maybe it’s because they are just slightly older than the characters, so it was easier for them to understand them. I also still listen to MSP soundtracks. Aside from being simply good pieces of music, they make me feel positive and refreshed everytime I hear them. It’s like an energizer.

7. Bad Buddy (8,4/10)

DESCRIPTION: Ever since they were young, Pran and Pat's families had a deep and raging rivalry, trying to one-up each other on everything. This also extended to their sons. Comparing their sons' achievements and merits,—whether it be academic or extracurricular—the two families leave no stone unturned to outshine and gloat in front of the other. The rivalry was passed down as a family heirloom and the two boys become rivals in turn. Until... they grow tired and become friends. Really good friends. However, because of their families' rivalry, their friendship has to be kept under wraps. And so began a journey of secret friendship... and then perhaps a secret romance?

MY TAKE: This is another series I’ve dropped in half and picked up just recently. Although the entire enemies since birth plot seemed a little bit Wattpad-ish to me, I’ve still enjoyed Bad Buddy a lot. The relationship of Pat and Pran was fun and realistic, they also had good chemistry together, probably due to the actor’s long-lasting frienship. There was something about them that just seemed so natural. Big plus for verse rights and lesbian sub-plot. The only thing I’m not content with was that instead of working things through with their families, the scriptwriters decided to just make Pat and Pran lie and avoid the topic. It could have been handled in a better way.

8. Moonlight Chicken (8,3/10)

DESCRIPTION: Jim is an ordinary guy running a Hainanese chicken rice diner. One night, he meets breezy Wen when he stays past closing drunk. Brought together by fate that night, intangible feelings arise. Neither can stop thinking about the other despite Jim's efforts to remain unattached. Working at the diner are Jim's nephew Li Ming, Saleng, and occasionally chicken supplier Kaipa who doesn't mind having an excuse to see him.

MY TAKE: I’m a Chinese learner and liked P’Earth and P’Mix’s performance in 1000 stars a lot, so I was looking forward for Moonlight Chicken to come out. The relationship between Jim and Wen disappointed me a bit, as it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They started off from a one night stand and Jim was doing everything he could to keep things this way, with Wen persistently trying to change his mind. I’m still happy though, because the series maturely portrayed real life problems of Thai people. Jim, as an adult, was a person tied by chores and responsibilities of a restaurant owner and legal guardian for his teenager nephew. It’s understandable for him to take more things than just his feelings into consideration, especially since he was older than Wen. The problems between them made the series even more realistic, but N’Gemini (Heart) and N’Fourth (Li Ming) undoubtebly stole this show from the main couple. Not good for people wanting to watch something romantic and fluffy, nevertheless, still good.

9. Triage (8,3/10)

DESCRIPTION: Third-year emergency medicine resident Tin has to cope with a deluge of different patients every day. Up until the eighteenth, that is. Tin's life is transformed when university student Tol's car is overturned, and he's rushed to the emergency room in serious condition. That night doesn't end when Tin fails to save Tol's life, though. When Tin next wakes, he finds himself in a time loop, a loop he won't be able to leave until he's altered Tol's fate.

MY TAKE: Triage was a slowburn and it took quite a few episodes for the main couple to start developing feelings, as the time loops didn’t help in building any kind of closeness. They had good chemistry though and I really liked the performance of every actor in this series. Also! The! Plot! It was truly a masterpiece. It turned out that Triage novel is another work of Manner of Death’s author and that those two are actually connected. Doctor Bun and Tan appear in one episode of Triage and if MoD season 2 actually happens, it will be a continuation of the mystery after Triage’s ending. About the ending itself, it wasn’t satisfying. Also, why do I feel like they got some inspiration from the movie Bruce Almighty?

10. To Sir, With Love (8,3/10)

DESCRIPTION: The Five Dragon Guild is under the leadership of Jao Sua Song. He's skilled and in control in business, but things in the family have become chaotic. By his main wife Li, he has his eldest son Thian. He has a secondary wife Jan with whom he has a son named Yang and he has a mistress named Bua. In a Chinese family, masculinity is prized. Thian is the face of the family, the one who will eventually succeed Song, who will carry the power his father has built. Khun Chai is not a position just anyone is suited to. The love between two men is obstructed by Chinese society.

MY TAKE: Everthing was good here - the acting, the costumes, the setting... a high quality series indeed. I especially loved brotherly bond between Tian and Yang, as it was the purest and the most wholesome thing in this drama. The murder plot was interesting too. However, all of this was simply too prolonged. Because everyone for 17 1-hour episodes straight was running around and trying to find that Tian’s homosexual, they may as well just name the series Tian’s secret. I got sick of it around 9th episode and there were still 8 more. It’s a pity that it completely ruined To Sir, With Love for me. Tian and Jiu, the main couple, didn’t receive many screentime, so it was quite unsatisfying too.

[there will be a link to 11-15 in the future]

#thai bl #last twilight #bad buddy #moonlight chicken #to sir with love #i feel you linger in the air #my school president #triage #a tale of thousand stars #the sign bl #not me the series #bl recommendation #mypost

[chardou15]

Shattered Memories - Ch. 1

Chapter summary: Nuyia helps Miles to recover from his wounds and Quaritch noticed he could use her for personal circumstances.

[1,412 words]

Pairing: Na'vi Quaritch x Na'vi Fem OC

Skxawng – an idiot; a moron

Prologue |

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

TW: blood mention, killing, manipulation, cursing

A/n: This story takes place after the ATWOW so it contains spoilers. I don't have any beta for that fic so I'm sorry if you find mistakes. English is not my native language (I wish).

She went to a small lake where she could catch some fish for dinner. Nuyia aimed her bow again that day and saw a movement in the water, then she get loose an arrow that hit an animal. She jumped into the water, kill the fish, thanking to Eywa and giving some of its energy to the Great Mother. She did the same with the three other fish.

Nuyia took them all into the house where she began to bone them. When the girl finished she wrapped the fillets in edible leaves and took them to the hearthstone where the wraps could be cooked. She heard a strange, injured man muttering to himself, but she paid him no attention. After all, she's thinking about him. What is he doing here? What happened to him and of course, who is he? She knows that he was an avatar with demon blood, a dreamwalker, but she didn't know why he was here, not only in her house, but also in her world. Nuyia wasn't happy about these thoughts. She knows she was supposed to help him and take care of him, nothing more. If he recovers, she'll kick his ass out of her home and her life. Nuyia didn't want to go wrong, make an aquaintance or anything like that. She couldn't. A few years ago, she got in trouble for her actions. That was the reason why she lived alone, far away from the nearest village of the Tipani clan.

She was stupid as fuck. An idiot, an now she didn't want to make another mistake. No more and no less than that.

Nuyia turned over the wraps and waited patiently. When the food was ready, she took it from the fire and put the wraps on a wooden plate. She went into the house, approaching the stranger, and gave him some food.

"Eat." She said, taking a wrap and began to eat.

"Don't tell me that's a damn fish..." He moaned and rolled his green-yellow eyes. Apparently, he didn't like the fish, but that wasn't Nuyi's problem. He has to eat.

"Shut up and eat the fuckin' fish! You’ll recover faster and I'll finally kick your demon ass out of there." She looked at him irritably. "Don't look at me like that, the food isn't poisoned as you can see." Nuyia pointed to herself and took another bite.

"I won't eat that." He replied, lying down on the sleeping mat. "You'd better gimme somethin' else."

She giggled.

"I don't think you'd have made it hunting on your own. Not with that wound." She pointed her chin to his muscular torso. "So... you have to eat what I give you. For how long? That depends on you." Nuyia shrugged her shoulders.

Finally he sat up, took a wrap and began to eat. In a short period of time he ate two fish.

"It was quite good."

"Skxawng. You really are a skxawng. When you're done, you should rest. You're hurt and exhausted."

He nodded. Nuyia stood up, not looking at him, and walked to the table where she'd been making drugs, ointments, and poisons. She heard every movement of a man, even if she didn't want to hear it. She was squeezing a plant to isolate an extract when he said:

"I wanna say somethin'..."

"What?"

"I... I wanna thank you. For saving ma life." Apparently he was unfamiliar with thanks.

Nuyia spat out.

"You don't need to thank me. It wasn't my wish, it was Eywa's. To be honest... I wanted to kill you." She didn't say she wanted to kill him from the beginning. Nuyia has a lot of poisons in her house that she could use. One of them instead of an ointment. If she had done that, the demon would be dead now. But she respected Eywa's will. Even if she didn't understand it.

He laughed painfully.

"You, Na’vi, really have a goddess complex."

She turned her head toward him and hissed.

"Show some respect, demon!"

"Easy there, sunshine." He replied, smiling at her. She could tell that her anger amused him. He provoked her with stupid comments and she let him do it like a not-so-smart child. "Are you gonna answer me who you are or not?"

"Let me think... I don't see why." She didn't pause from her work; her hands worked automatically.

"I still wanna know the name of my savior. And who I've been messing with. I'm Miles."

She didn't want to say her name. Why did Eywa want to save him so badly?

She sighed.

"Nuyia Te Isna Rrrta’awä'ite" She introduced herself, looking at him.

He was puzzled and confused.

"Like... Like what?" Miles tried to repeat her name but gave up. "Holy shit what a slatey name you have, woman."

"I don't have another one."

"Then how should I call you? Maybe 'sunshine'?”

She hissed at him, her ears twitching downward.

"I'm not your 'sunshine', dreamwalker. And I'll never be. My name is Nuyia. Nuy-yi-a, do you understand? Not 'sunshine', 'sweetie', or anything like that. I have a name and I'm not a pet of yours."

"Okey-dokey. You don't seem like a nice person, do you? Rude, vulgar, and aggressive as hell. You have a problem with yourself. The mental problem, y'know.

"Shut the fuck up!" Nuyia yawped; Miles laughed when he saw and heard that.

"I told ya. You've got a pro-" He stopped talking because she threw a small arrowhead at him. He twisted himself, moaning in pain. Miles looked at his wound and cursed. "Fuck..."

Blood seeped through the bandage Nuyia had wrapped around his torso.

"You're really such a moron." She shook her head, took a new bandage and ointment, squatted down next to Miles, and rendered aid.

"It wasn't my fault!" He groaned again. "You have a problem with aggression, not me."

She gave him a look that he shut up at the end.

Two days later

"Tell me one thing, Nuyia." Miles took slow steps toward her, watching how she was preparing her arrows. His wounds have been healed up quickly and without any complications.

"Great Mother Eywa, give me strength to that skxawng..." She mumbled. "What do you want from me?"

"You know English quite well, do you? Who taught you? Augustine?" He asked.

Nuyia looked at him.

"I don't know any Augustine. My mother taught me, why do you ask?"

"I had an idea. You could teach me the Na'vi way. You know - language, hunting, bonding with an animal. That phrase 'I see you'.

"No."

"No? But why? I'm a Na'vi, you're a Na'vi. We are both Na'vi."

She turned her head to him.

"No. You're not a Na'vi. And you'll never be. Why do you ask me that stupid question? Did you understand? Sky People cannot be one of The People. Never. You're too stupid. Behave like babies. You've never seen, heard, or felt. You don't even try to understand our life. People like you do only one thing - bring death, pain, and nothing more. You're killing us. For what?! What have we done to you? To Sky People?” She grabbed his arm where he has a tattoo, looking at his unusual eyes. Miles looked down at her, seeing hate in her golden irises. She was angry. Angry as hell. But he has a reason to learn the Na'vi way.

"It wasn't an offer, sweetheart."

"I am. Not. Your. Fucking. Sweetheart! I said NO!” She took her knife from the table. "What do you want to do with that knowledge? Answer me, Miles. You want to save someone, right? Or kill. Just give me an answer."

He sighed and swallowed then licked his bottom lip. Nice idea, Nuyia, he thought.

"Yes... I must save someone."

She blinked a couple of times.

"Save? I thought..."

"I know what you have thought. But no."

"Then... whom?"

He sighed again.

"My son."

Nuyia froze. She stood up and paced back and forth. A few minutes passed, then she stopped. She looked at him again, finally saying:

"I went over that. I'll help you, Miles. I'll teach you our way and how to be one of The People. And... I'll help you save your child."

You're just off the boat, sweetie, He thought but smiled at her. Such a naive woman. How cute.

"When do we start?”

"Morning. Of the dawn. But I warn you - I'm not an easy teacher. And not patient."

He smiled at her in response.

#avatar fanfic #avatar quaritch #recom quaritch #na'vi quaritch #oc na'vi #na'vi quaritch x na'vi oc #avatar the way of water #fem na'vi #quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #avatar 2

[saturdaykru]

Birthday wish - J. Murphy x reader

﹒✚﹒ masterlist ` , request﹒✚﹒

I don't know how many 'The 100' fans are left but one can only hope there are more than 4 on Tumblr

John Murphy x reader - Modern AU

In which you and your friends plan on throwing Murphy a surprise birthday party, what will happen when the guest of honor is late to his own birthday?

cw: kiss scene, sfw

"What's the theme gonna be?" I ask, excitedly.

Octavia, Bellamy, Clarke, and Lincoln sat next to and across from me in the university lounge. Jasper and Monty were in their respective classes but we'd text them the details after the discussion.

The discussion in question is Murphy's birthday party. Well, it was a secret birthday party.

Murphy hadn't been fond of birthday parties, or secret ones, or anything happy in general. It took a while for him to even come out of his shell around us. His snarky comments always bring a smile to my face.

"I didn't know you needed one for a birthday party," Lincoln stated, Bellamy nodding in agreement while I rolled my eyes.

Lincoln and Bellamy only seemed to be here for Octavia and Clarke, the rest of the friend group besides me didn't really know him- it's not that they didn't care for him perse; it's just he's only with us when we're all together. Nobody really gets to sit down and talk with him one-on-one.

"He doesn't even like parties, let alone surprise parties," Clarke spoke up from beside Bellamy. "Let's just get him a present from all of us and leave it at that."

Clarke has always tried to get the group to do what 'benefits' us most, or at least that's what she says when she gets called out on occasion.

But nobody is perfect.

What she had said struck something in me, we'd always thrown parties for everyone in the group so what made Murphy so different? Just because he isn't as social with everyone? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Bellamy agreeing with her.

"C'mon guys, were his friends, why do I have to constantly remind you all of that?" I stood up abruptly, catching everyone's attention and the eyes of passersby.

"She is right, it'll be fun Clarke," Octavia added, if I could count on anyone it'd be Octavia to have my back. I smiled when I saw Clarke's small smile, signaling she agreed. If Clarke was going then Bellamy was too. Same with Lincoln and Octavia. Jasper and Monty wouldn't pass up a good time with friends, Monty could even bring Harper!

"Alright! My place, tomorrow night at 6! Don't forget presents!" I say, a little to enthusiastic. I was already picturing the bright smile on Murphy's face, imagining how happy I'd be making him.

I grabbed my bag from the side of the beanbag and made a B-line to the parking lot after noticing the time. I hoped Murphy wasn't mad at me for being late. Murphy had a car, I didn't, he also had a license, I didn't. So he offered (I pleaded) to take me home after classes since we lived in the same apartment complex. It made things easier, I got to have small talks with him, and he... well he got a friend.

Opening the glass doors I saw Murphy's car, I was surprised he'd waited 40 minutes for me.

Opening the passenger door I tossed my bag behind me into the backseat, it landed on a pile of random clothes- thankfully only his. Murphy's car was decorated in my things, hair ties on the shift gear, lipgloss in the change holder, a car freshener I got him in the shape of a bow, he protested it made him look girly but he never tried to give the things I left back.

"You're lucky I waited." Murphy started the car up. "What were you even doing? I know your schedule so don't try and lie." He finished, pulling out of the parking space. He knows my schedule?

Looking over at him I examined his face, like I do every time I'm in the car with him. It's like I can never get enough like I want his face engraved into my brain. His not-so-slicked-back hair, his dark blue eyes, his prominent nose. The imperfections he saw I didn't. Even with his tough guy act I could tell, there were some things he wished he could change. Though I wouldn't change them for the world.

A cough from Murphy snapped me out of my trance, he must've noticed my staring. I shook my head and brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

"Just talking with the others at the lounge." I tried not to reveal too many details about the conversations prior.

Looking out the window, unable to see the frown on Murphy's face, "Of course, cause who wouldn't wanna spend 40 minutes in a university lounge." The stop light turned green and I felt the car pick up speed.

"You should really try talking to some of them more, and I mean like really talking. Like how we are now!" I say, turning back to look at him, realizing how... sad? he looked. I wished everyone could see what I saw in Murphy.

"Yeah, well, I only talk to them for you, so." His hand turned on the radio once he was finished speaking, the sound of Frank Ocean 'Ivy' filling the car shortly after, soon filling the silence. It was my favorite song that I had introduced him to, and ever since then, it's been his favorite too.

He only talks to them for me? As in he only talks to them for me? or for me? I had wanted to ask more questions but I decided to take the hint and leave the topic alone for now.

The song had started to get to me, "I feel a song coming on!" I say, turning up the radio. Murphy knew what this meant, as it wasn't his first rodeo.

"You better not! I will leave you on this highway!" Empty threats he was spewing.

"I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me!" I sang loudly, with no care in the world. Unbeknownst to me, Murphy was admiring me from the driver's seat, how I was so effortlessly beautiful to him. A smile found its way onto his lips, a rare occurrence to most, but a common one with you.

"The start of nothin'..." He grumbled through a smile.

"Had no chance to prepare, I couldn't see you comin'!" We both sang along, his smile growing bigger with every lyric.

It was amazing to see him like this, without his usual frown. His smile was beautiful, and I wish I had the guts to tell him.

Pulling into a parking space near our complex I leaned into the backseat to grab my bag. The sudden dread that the moment before would be cut short. Murphy seemed to feel it too as his smile returned to his normal scowl.

"Murphy?" I look at him before opening the door, catching his attention quickly.

"Yeah?"

"Come over tomorrow, at 6ish. And happy early birthday!" I hoped that didn't reveal too much about the party happening tomorrow. And with that I hopped out of the car and made my way into the complex, leaving Murphy with his thoughts, of me.

I had already gotten his present a week prior, it was a build-a-bear plushie. A big green frog, dressed in an outfit similar to what Murphy wears, but the best part is the voice message when you press his hand. It, well I, say, "yu laik ai raunon" meaning, you are my person, its trigdasleng. Few people know the made-up language, Murphy included. I just hope he likes it. It's also my way of saying, I like you.

It's been 30 minutes past six. Everyone was growing doubt Murphy would even come, but I had faith. I was staring out the window when I overheard Octavia and Lincoln talking.

"Why would you tell him? It's supposed to be a surprise Lincoln." Octavia whispered, crossing her arms in disapproval.

It was obvious now why he didn't show, but if he knew we were all coming why not just make an appearance?

Staring back out the window I saw Murphy's car pull up, joy flowed through me but was slowly dispercing the longer he sat there, unmoving. Why wasn't he getting out?

I made my way to the door with the plushie in hand.

"I'll be back guys," I state, not turning back to get their answers.

"Alright!" Jasper and Monty yell, too busy mixing together concoctions of drinks and making Bellamy taste them.

Coming up to his car I see his head resting on the steering wheel, I knock on the door and I see his eyes peek out to see me, he still made no motion to move.

I sigh and walk to the passenger side door and get in.

"Murphy?" I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder, making him sit up to face me.

"What." He blankly stated. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a little hurt over his tone, but I pushed on for him.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are you here, y/n?" It was a genuine question, a dumb one, but genuine.

"What do you m-" He cut me off.

"Why are you here, acting like you care." His words stung, but it's now or never.

"I'm here for you, I'm here because I love you, Johnathan." I hadn't meant to say the last part with full confidence, and the look on his face turned into one of shock, the previous emotions long forgotten with my newfound confession.

Moments of silence passed and I took that as a sign to leave, I began opening the door but was stopped by his hand, it sent a chill down my spine.

"Did you mean that?" Murphy questioned, staring into my eyes, looking for any signs of deception or regret.

"I meant every part.." My voice wavered, becoming fully aware of the situation and how vulnerable I felt under his strong gaze and grip.

Before I even knew it his lips were on mine, the kiss was passionate and loving, full of months pent up with love, like it's what our lifelong goal was, to be here, in this car, with each other. No other care in the world.

I pulled away for air and fully examined him, the dusty pink that lined his cheeks, if I could take a picture of this I would.

"I love you too, but what is that?" He asked, pointing to the frog in my lap. I had completely forgotten about his present!

"Its for you!" I excitedly say, shoving the frog practically into his face

Murphy took it into his big hands and examined it all over, with a goofy grin on his face. He discovered the button and pressed it, my voice filling the air for a few seconds. He took a minute to translate the sentence in his head, but when he did he had the biggest smile as he kissed me again, and again, and again...

"Shall we go to the party, birthday boy?" I say in between little kisses.

"We could stay here, in the backseat." He replied, suggestively, I giggled at this

"Don't tempt me."

﹒✚﹒ masterlist ` , request﹒✚﹒

feedback always welcomed

#john murphy #john #octavia #octavia blake #the 100 #t100 #the100 #the 100 x reader #x reader #john murphy x reader #murphy x reader #john x reader #john murphy fluff #fluff #oneshot #the 100 oneshot #bellamy #clarke #fanfic #the 100 fanfic #the 100 fanfiction #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #murphy fanfiction #murphy fanfic #skaikru #birthday #lincoln #the 100 fic #the 100 john murphy

[phantatrix]

My preconceptions of Ace Attorney before actually playing the games

[Based on the whole franchise rather than any individual games since I don't know what happens in what game specifically]

I only remember like 3 character names but it seems like everyone has the weirdest sounding names imaginable

Before checking if The Great Ace Attorney was on the switch, I thought it was a sequel series to Ace Attorney and that Apollo Justice was the protagonist but it turns out it takes place in the late 19th century so never mind on that

There’s something heartbreaking that happens just before Christmas even though this is meme by the fandom every year. I think someone important to the main cast dies or something

Refining my new take on Apollo Justice (since I was wrong about what The Great Ace Attorney was) is that he’s actually in the first series and he’s Phoenix Wright’s nephew (either biological, adopted, or a found family situation)

The magician girl is Phoenix’s adopted daughter and she’s bffs with Apollo Justice

There’s a racist vampire. I think he’s in TGAA but either this series is an urban fantasy or there just happens to be one vampire who’s there for some unknown reason and everyone rolls with it

Phoenix went to art school but discovered that his childhood friend Miles Edgeworth (whom he hasn’t seen in years) had enrolled in law school so he also goes to law school so he can catch up with him

There’s this one guy who has a huge mental breakdown from law school and he goes through major depression but his friends try to help him through it (I’m sorry I can’t be more specific I really don’t know any of these characters names, I just recognize him from angsty fan art my friend has drawn before)

This Tumblr post does a great job summarizing how I imagine Phoenix and Miles to be like during the trials https://pauladrawsnstuff.tumblr.com/post/720025716031356928/audio-from-themornal

This is less of a preconception and more of a wish. But, like in danganronpa v3, I really hope that there’s an option to lie in court cause that’d be so funny. Let phoenix have a little perjury as a treat

There’s straight up a dude named Herlock Sholmes. I really wish he was the protagonist of one of the games but I know he's a side character more than anything

It turns out that there is a trilogy for Apollo Justice so I was super wrong about him showing up in the ace attorney trilogy (I guess I have no idea who Apollo is in this franchise)

Apollo is somehow going to be the most normal protagonist not because he's actually normal but because everyone else is so much more ridiculously eccentric and weird

Oh my God is there a sentient magical hat named Mr hat??? Out of everything I most want this to be true. I'm begging (but for real is ace attorney an urban fantasy?? I thought this was about a normal ass lawyer??)

Omg one of the characters does the ghost trick death pose and I can't wait to learn these characters names cause I super don't know

There's some sort of martial artist who's part of the cast and I think hes quick to square up with people, like he has a super short temper except around his friends

Ace Attorney games 5 and 6 are straight up bad it turns out (I'm hoping these aren't part of the Apollo justice trilogy cause he looks like such a neat guy and he deserves everything good in the world)

Phoenix canonically calls Edgeworth "daddy" (this isn't a preconception, my friend straight up told me and this convinced me even more to play the games)

I know ace attorney predates ghost trick and danganronpa but I bet there's gonna be some of the most complex murder schemes known to mankind that'll be uncovered in the trials like the two games I mentioned (I have heard danganronpa described as ace attorney meets battle royale so I'm super stoked about the mystery investigation sections of aa)

I don't know how much later the Apollo justice trilogy takes place from the aa trilogy but phoenix is gonna pretend that he's not really phoenix and there's gonna be some big plot twist where reveals himself and he tells Apollo how proud he is of him to solve a near impossible case

#ace attorney #just bought the first aa trilogy to get this ball rolling and im so stoked to play #making a list like this is something that i meant to do with undertale and danganronpa before i started playing #since ive heard about them for years before i finally sat down to play #but hey i remembered to do this before ace attorney so thats something #this list is stuff thats come to my head recently as ive thought about aa and theres probably more stuff ive heard over the years #but this is a good enough list cause i just wanna jump right in and see how much of this is canon or fanon/ headcanon #or just straight up a massive misinterpretation from what ive learned through osmosis from fans over the years #its funny how i dont know anything about the plot of the games despite how much fan art and character discussions ive seen

[ryuichirou]

What's your suice headcanons? Also how would the other Nordics react to their relationship??

Anoooooon, did you catch my whining telepathically? Because we were discussing how I want the next ask to be about SuIce headcanons just yesterday… Always there when we need you the most.

Sooo SuIce headcanons!

1. I’ve already mentioned it in another post, but Ice is really really really crushing hard on Sweden. He feels super comfortable around him, but also kind of hopeless, because he can’t do anything about his crush: he thinks that confessing would only ruin things. Ice kinda has a complex about being younger than the rest of the Nordics, but Svi especially. He doesn’t mind the age gap, it’s just as if he’s afraid that Sweden will never be able to look at him as someone other than “Nor’s little brother”. He also doesn’t want Sweden to think that his feelings towards him are just a childish, immature crush. At the same time, Sweden respects Iceland’s opinions and tries not to treat him differently – he knows that it troubles Ice. Doesn’t know about his crush though lol

2. Ice really likes watching Sweden when he’s working on something (furniture, for example). He can sit there for hours, looking at his hands and thinking about stuff. Ice wishes he could do it more often, but he doesn’t get to hang out at Sweden’s place very often.

3. Unlike apparently everyone else in the world, Iceland doesn’t think Sweden is all that creepy looking. He doesn’t get scared by his “heavy glare” thing and is actually pretty good at noticing when Svi (despite him not really changing his expression) is having a good time.

4. Every time Iceland gets touched by Sweden in any way (like a shoulder pat, hand grabbing, maybe even a hug), he dies inside so obviously that it’s ridiculous that Sweden didn’t notice that for so long.

5. Sweden didn’t really think of Iceland “that way” before he found out that he had a crush on him. But once he started thinking about it, he realised that Iceland surprisingly sort of fits his type. He tends to like cute looking “round-ish” guys, after all.

6. I don’t know how Ice’s confession would go, but now that I think about it, Sweden might confront him himself one day… What a scary situation for Iceland.

7. So, about the other Nordics. Norway and Denmark are pretty good at reading Ice’s mood, so it’s not a secret to them that he likes Sweden, but they might not really understand the nature of his feelings at first. Same with Fin actually, he might notice the way Ice looks at Sweden. But it’ll still probably surprise them that he has an actual romantic crush on him. Out of all of them, Nor would be surprised the least though.

8. If SuIce were to start dating, other Nordics’ reaction would probably go like this: Fin would be kinda confused (not opposed, but confused, because that came out of nowhere), Denmark would have a blast teasing both Iceland and Sweden (and get punched by Sweden repetitively until he stops), and Norway… I don’t think he would mind Sweden (he knows him well and respects him a lot), but he likes to act like a protective older brother, so maybe he’d at least pretend that he’s ready to fight Sweden if he does something wrong. But then again, that might be just to mess with Ice…

9. A couple of spicier ones. Before they got together, Ice used to fantasize about Svi a lot. He also might’ve thought a bit too much about how their first time would go. A lot of different scenarios.

10. Although Sweden’s initial instinct was to be careful and gentle with Ice, Ice really doesn’t like that treatment: he doesn’t want Svi to act like he’s going to break or something. He is a bit too eager when it comes to that, both because he doesn’t want to be perceived as too young and fragile, and because he is too darn horny and desperate for Svi to act so careful around him. At some point he would either ask Svi to stop holding back or try to provoke him.

11. When Svi finally stops holding back though, it’s going to be like things are happening on a whole different level, because he is much more passionate, physical and straight-up horny than one might think. He’s also pretty desperate and starved when it comes to this kind of intimacy. So Ice’s “do you worst” would end up in a pretty unexpected scenario for him (not that he complains, of course, he’s one happy boy).

Well, these are some long-ass headcanons lol, I’m sorry, I got carried away. I could say more, but once again, let me know if you’d like to hear about anything in particular.

#replies #suice #headcanons

[a-menaceinpink]

i literally just finished reading ta6 so i have a lot of thoughts about it, in no particular order:

Callum irritates me. he's portraying himself as a cackling supervillain and yet rarely if ever does cackling supervillain things. mostly he just complains about everyone being too boring for him to bother with (meanwhile he's a white south african heir of greek royalty ... sir your inner monologue is classist in the extreme)

Tristan also irritates me, but for different reasons. he's incredibly whiny. and not like sopping wet pathetic little meow meow like just whiny and pathetic. complains about not knowing about himself or his powers but never does anything about it or searches for answers. no spine. refuses to give even a hint of a tragic backstory.

Reina my aroace queen <333 she was so undeveloped here it's insane but EYE saw her crazy powerful abilities and burgeoning god complex. EYE love her. everybody who didn't, skill issue. wish she had more screentime but i do remember liking her plot in the next one. also the plant monologue to her is really fun bc i too would be crazyyyyyy annoyed by that

Nico straightforward king. liked him less this time around than the last time but i think its bc he has less like. depth? mystery? than some of the others. sweet charming king tho, i love him and gideon

Parisa oh my god. oh my GOD. do i want to be her or be with her. unclear. both. she could kill me and i'd thank her. telepath, ruthless, ambitious, manipulative. what's not to love (except for her fixation on dalton like .. girl get up you can do better than this i know his mind is a puzzle but still :/)

i love libby (maybe a little too much, rip me) and i wish yall would stop talking ab her damn hair is NOT that big of a deal!! get a life!! don't yall have murder to be worried about, why are you so worried that libby likes to ask questions!!

this is very much a character-driven book. it runs on vibes and sexiness alone (i'm being so serious here). if you like a plot-driven book, now is the time to bow out because it only gets worse

the science in this book is kind of fun but very fantasy, if you catch my drift. very much, using science principles in the service of explaining the magic system (which is still very... undefined? world-building could use some work tbh)

ultimately, i am seeing how this book both did and didn't set itseulf up for success in the second book. it has a good cliffhanger, it introduces a unique setting and unique, fleshed out characters, but it fails to introduce an overarching plot problem. something that warrants this being a trilogy and not just a magical murder mystery.

it's also incredibly up its own ass about EVERYTHING so if you're really anti-pretentious writing you will dislike this book

and again, this is just the story of a love-hate platonic-romantic queer polycule that may or may not kill each other. and the book rides off that pretty heavily

#the atlas six #tas #i want to be clear i LIKED this book i LIKE morally gray characters #i just don't think that it's necessarily set up well for a trilogy #duology might be better #or even a standalone #libby rhodes #nico de varona #parisa kamali #reina mori #tristan caine #callum nova

[divine-donna]

are you on the square?

as i wrote in an earlier post, here is a shitpost about which ghost songs i’d assign to the hotd cast. i am a massive ghost fan outside of hotd and have written my fair share of fics. :)

all of these songs tend to have catholic references (as is the nature of ghost). but some of them fit really well with ghost especially since the faith of the seven is based off of christianity.

ser criston cole

from the pinnacle to the pit - meliora

in reference to criston soiling his white cloak, the man quite literally has a fall from grace. which i find aligns with the imagery present in this song since it involves an angel being cast out of heaven. but unlike the angel, criston has a savior to catch him.

“you are cast out from the heavens to the ground, blackened feathers falling down. you will wear your independence like a crown.”

daemon targaryen

darkness at the heart of my love - impera

daemon loves the people around him. but in a literal sense, his love is tainted. there’s something dangerous about his love (seen with rhaenyra). it’s only befitting to give him a song that mirrors the complexity of his love whether it’s love for his wife, for his brother, for his children.

“there’s a darkness at the heart of my love that runs cold, runs deep. the darkness at the heart of my love, so bold, so sweet. and all this time you knew that i would put you through the darkness at the heart of my love for you.”

rhaenyra targaryen

deus in absentia - meliora

deus in absentia is a song that questions the state of the world (and is part of the whole theme of meliora which interrogates a world without god). since rhaenyra has plunged westeros into war, it’s a song that fits with her worldview being challenged and for her to have to interrogate a world without her father.

“you’re so goddamn frail, failing for a change. you had just begun to explore the dark in the urban night. the world is on fire and you are here to stay and burn with me. a funeral pyre. and we are here to revel forevermore.”

alicent hightower

witch image - prequelle

alicent opened pandora’s box when she wore that green dress to rhaenyra’s wedding celebration. and arguably, she is responsible for the death of many people (even if done without her knowledge and whether or not she wanted it to happen). however the woman is willing to do anything to protect her children even at the cost of other lives.

“while you sleep in early delight, someone’s flesh is rotting tonight like no other to you. what you’ve done, you cannot undo. while you sleep in early delight, still your soul will suffer this plight. but like a mother would save her own child from digging a grave.”

aegon targaryen

absolution - meliora

as the oldest son, aegon has responsibilities. he has responsibilities of assuming the throne despite rhaenyra’s position as heir. he hates having these expectations and personally wishes that his sister would ascend faster. the meaning of the word absolution is a formal release from guilt, an obligation, or a punishment. and well, aegon wishes to be free from his obligation as prince.

“ever since you’ve been born, you’ve been dying. every day a little more you’ve been dying. dying to reach the setting sun. as a child with your mind on the horizon, over corpses to the eyes you kept your eyes on, trying to be the chosen one.”

aemond targaryen

spillways - impera

ever since losing his eye, aemond has felt anger and bitterness for most of his waking hours. it never goes away. and it all builds up over the years until it eventually begins to seep out and affect the people around him. it affected vhagar, it affected his mother. and he just lets his emotions continue to fuel his body and soul.

“all your faith, all your rage, all your pain, it ain’t over now and i ain’t talking about forgiveness! all your faith, all your rage, all your pain, it ain’t over now. it’s the cruel beast that you feed. it’s your burning, yearning, need to bleed through the spillways, through the spillways of your soul.”

helaena targaryen

ghuleh/zombie queen - infestissumam

queen helaena is a figure revered amongst the smallfolk. she is beloved by them. they see her as the rightful queen rather than rhaenyra. of course, her death becomes a morale boost for the greens and enhances aegon’s claim. she becomes a figure that lives in the smallfolk’s mind even after her death.

“the moon is full and shines. an evil blinding light. under a monolith, her likeness, marble white. zombie queen! zombie queen! black light guides you. ghuleh! ghuleh!”

jacaerys velaryon

hunter’s moon - impera

when he received news about the death of his younger brother, prince jacaerys swore vengeance on luke’s grave. he swore he would kill aemond. and the dance of the dragons is the perfect time for him to achieve that vengeance. he’s quite literally hunting for aemond.

“it’s been a long time coming, i’m coming back for you, my friend. to where we’d hide as children, i’m coming back for you, my friend. though my memories have faded they come back to haunt me once again! and though my mind is somewhat jaded now, it’s time for me to strike again. tonight, it’s a hunter’s moon!”

#this is not to be taken seriously #hotd #hotd shitpost #house of the dragon #aegon the usurper #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #ser criston

[persnicketypomelo]

I've had this idea for a while for a yandere James Norrington with a fem pirate reader. I got a bunch of ideas and prompts for it.

It would follow the plot of the movie with some minor changes to better fit the concept.

To make this easy, I skipped over stuff in the films if I didn't really change or add anything.

The reader would be an ex crew mate of Jack's. She would have left before the curse. After Will and Jack steal that boat at the beginning of the movie to rescue Elizabeth. The governor and James, as a last resort, decide to use an ex crew mate of Jack's, the reader who was currently being held at port royal awaiting execution. She agrees under the condition that she'd be pardoned of her execution.

So the plot would continue with her aboard the dauntless kept in brig. Being questioned by Norrington. Who, as said in your post, would notice the readers' own sense of honor and loyalty. (Perhaps they're surprisingly loyal to Jack and only ever give info about Barbosa and his crew instead). Slowly, he convinces himself he can rehabilitate the reader. That she's simply been mislead, that with the right help(him) she could steered down the right path, that she could be saved. That must be the reason why she occupies him mind the way she does (He's most definitely in denial about possibly being attracted to a filthy pirate).

Before he can finalize his plan however they find Jack and Elizabeth marooned on that island. Like in the film, Elizabeth kisses James and promises to marry him if he saves Will. (Norrington tries not to think about how the idea of marrying Elizabeth doesn't excite him as much as it used to. She's a perfect fit, the daughter of a governor, an acceptable lady of high standing. ( No dig at Elizabeth. She's pretty cool in the films. I always wished she got a different ending, though, just waiting around for Will on an island. She had way too much agency for that. Should have had her break the curse instead of her and Will's son.

The big climax of film happens. ( You can decide where the reader is in all of this, I can't really decide what fits) ( I kinda like the idea of her some saving James in battle from something somehow)

When Will rescues Jack from his execution, the reader escapes with Jack and the rest of his crew. Norrington, with his savior complex, believes the only reason she left was her misplaced loyalty to Jack, that once again must have been mislead and sets out not only to catch Jack but to "save" her. So like in the film James still gives up Elizabeth to Will and when governor swan gives his blessing to them to wed he thinks deep, deep down he thinks perhaps just maybe, just maybe he could turn her into a proper lady and they could be together, in love just like Will and Elizabeth. (cause you know Will and Elizabeth are of different standing but they are still given the blessing to marry by governor swan (someone James respects), so if they can be together maybe if he saves her, he and his lady pirate can be together.

And that's about it for the first movie. If you like it and are interested, I have more ideas for the second and third, and maybe more. If this doesn't interest you, or if it's too much, I understand. I'd love to see it turned into a real fic, but I get if you don't want to (it would be kinda long). Thanks again. Sorry this kinda long.

I'm definitely going to make a story about this if you don't mind--very good idea!

Also one of my Halloween specials coming up soon!