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thebirdsandthebats · 7 months

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Okay @s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e I’m sure you know plenty BUT I’m going to use your wonderful and hilarious comment on this as an excuse to talk about Bernard, bc I realized recently that there are plenty of ppl who haven’t read most of the comics he’s been in. So get ready for my long overdue:

UNPACKING BERNARD DOWD + HIS TRAUMA (for those who cannot keep up with comics but want to get to know him)

So to start, Tim met Bernard years ago ofc, when they were in high school. It’s established pretty quick that Bernard is an extremely Unserious guy LMAO, the first thing he does is literally circle Tim and try to feel him out socially, see what kind of guy he is. He’s the kind of guy who gets himself in trouble with his big mouth, and seems to enjoy poking at Tim and testing his patience. By the time we meet Bernard again in the recent years, he’s grown a lot, but at his core he’s still the light-hearted, fun, goofy guy with very strong opinions. Just less stand-offish, maybe

Throughout the time Tim spends at this school though, Bernard does experience some wild shit. He lost Darla (somebody he really cared about), he experienced a shooting at his school, and then Darla came back from the dead, kind of scared the hell out of him, and used him to contact Tim again. It was kind of played for laughs, but like. That’s gotta fuck you up. (Robin #140)

Obviously this is the kind of thing that maybeee has a lasting effect on you. And BECAUSE Tim Drake: Robin got cut so short and the writer had to rush to wrap up the series, we’re left to fill in a lot of gaps and draw conclusions about the years we didn’t see Bernard ourselves. But we absolutely get some insight as to his life after Tim left that school and we stopped seeing him in the comics. Spoiler alert: it was hard.

In TDR, Bernard discusses the the cult that he’d been in that Tim saved him from in Urban Legends. He says that “he’d accepted himself”, but others hadn’t. Obviously there’s the natural reading that he means his queerness (which has me chewing through drywall), but I think that he’s speaking very broadly too. Bernard is a very odd example of a civilian, because he’s always getting dragged into things much bigger than him. And even before that, he had his big ideas, his conspiracies, his loud personality. He tended to rub people the wrong way in high school. Then in issue #7 of TDR (the Bernard pov issue my most beloved, weird pacing aside) Bernard refers to this “oozy, sticky feeling” that he ALWAYS feels when Tim isn’t around. He says when he’s alone it’s harder to put one foot in front of the other. To keep GOING. To wake up every day.

I think that Bernard has always felt like an outcast. (Robin #121, he doesn’t fit into any clique). He wasn’t as okay with it as he acted. And I think he wasn’t getting any attention from his parents. (Batman: Urban Legends #5, Bernard’s parents nonchalance to the days leading up to his kidnapping)

So just like Bernard explained to Tim, that feeling got bad. and he wanted to let go. The chaos monsters, the cult, all of it was a means to an end. But then Tim agreed to see him again, and I think that sparked something in him. Because he started learning to fight. When he was tied down to that alter and Tim was saving him, I think it fully sank in to Bernard that he didn’t want to die. Reconnecting with Tim gave him hope and made him really feel something good for the first time in ages.

So now that they’re dating after the cult fiasco, we get to know this current Bernard. A less goading, maybe calmer Bernard. But he’s still himself, of course, rambling about his ideas and making bad jokes and sticking to his guns (he has NEVER been a pushover, no idea where people get that idea?). I think a lot of people complained that Bernard mellowed out too much in terms of attitude, but I think if he seems “nicer” it’s because 1) he’s grown now. It’s been a while since we last saw him, and he’s clearly changed a lot. And 2) because he’s dating Tim now. He likes him a lot, and he’s an affectionate partner. He wants to lift Tim up.

But the fact that he was pulled into a cult still remains. And as lighthearted as Bernard tries to be, that traumatic experience still happened. It said in Urban Legends #5 while Tim was searching for him that Bernard had welts on his arms and legs and had been acting different, so it’s not like he was just snatched up on a whim. He’d spent significant time there. For those who haven’t read much abt the ways cult trauma specifically can fuck you up, I recommend doing a search if you’re in a good headspace for that and want to understand him more. because it’s pretty bad.

And then! yeah. you guessed it. Bernard gets kidnapped again. Chained up next to a BOMB that’s counting down. RIGHT WHEN HE’S WORKING ON HEALING FROM ALMOST BEING SACRIFICED BY A CULT.

And surely this can’t get crazier. He’s almost died twice in the past 6 months. except, remember his parents? In TD:R #7, we really see a little more of his relationship with his parents. He doesn’t live up to their standards, and his dad specifically seems to just want to argue with him. The restaurant they’re at is attacked, and everything goes to shit, and. you know, I think these panels really speak for themselves.

And for the record, when it’s revealed that everyone is seeing their worst fears, Bernard’s parents fears are not about him.

So now Bernard has to deal with that. And we start to see that Bernard is really not as okay as he’s tried to be. He keeps a baseball bat by his door because he’s been kidnapped twice now. And just when he’d likely thought things couldn’t get worse, he heard the Chaos Monsters were back. I can’t imagine he feels safe. He lashes out for the first time since all this has happened and yells at Kate and Tim, because while they’re doing what they feel is necessary to save more people (AND I DONT BLAME THEM AT ALL), Bernard can’t talk about it.

And I will forever be sad and insist that TD:R got cancelled too soon, just before we could get into the really juicy stuff, because things had to be wrapped up pretty quick and this was the only comic Bernard was consistently appearing in. But when Tim is giving himself up to the chaos monsters, Bernard goes out and rallies anyone he knows can help. Things were rushed because there was no more time to flesh out the story the way it could have been, but I’m including these panels just because I love Bernard Audacity Dowd using a fucking flashlight and shadow puppet to call Batman. geeking out for a minute. And then leading the battalion to save Tim with a SLEDGEHAMMER. gay people rule.

So yeah! While I see the vision of how a lot of Bernard’s trauma was meant to be semi-resolved and let him come to peace after saving Tim back, we just didn’t have the time for him to heal properly. I’d give anything to get inside his brain again. UHH IF YOU READ THIS I HOPE YOU LOVE BERNARD NOW and don’t come at me if I left something out, some of my comics aren’t with me rn. Bonus TimBer for the road:

#WHEW IT TOOK A WHILE TO ORGANIZE THESE PANELS #Hes NOT BORING he is SO FASCINATING TO ME #i think his character is just not being utilized the way it could be #I didnt source every panel so just ask if you want to know where something is from!#bernard dowd #batfamily #dc comics #tim drake #timber #timbern

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starsandhughes · 8 months

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Didn't Know What Love Was— Quinn Hughes

summary: you were somewhat of a cynic when it came to love. you didn't believe in it, and if it was real, you didn't want it. that is, until your best friend sets you up with a certain hockey player named quinn.

warnings: swearing, fade to black smut (like extremely fade to black), fluff

word count: 3.9k+

MASTERLIST

this is inspired by the song 'didn't know what love was' by kane brown!

You weren’t expecting to feel this way.

You didn’t think this feeling was real.

Love.

You’ve said it, you’ve been told it, but all of those instances weren’t real to you. You get to a certain point in a relationship and someone says it first and you think, yeah, I guess that’s what this is. It was nothing like how it was portrayed in the movies, because they were just movies. Movies are fake, so you thought love was, too. It always ended. It always included drama. And then you’d find someone new.

You’ve never been more wrong.

February 20, 2021

“Mack, have you ever thought of the fact that I’m just not meant for a relationship? It’s all bullshit anyways,” you grumbled. You were laying on your back horizontally on bed with your feet hanging off the edge, settled on the floor. Your best friend, Mackenzie, was once again setting you up on a date. “You’re single now! Find yourself a date!”

Mackenzie rolled her eyes and sat next to you, “I’m not ready to get back out there! It’s only been two weeks since Jason and I broke up and we dated for seven months. You, however, have been single for almost a year!”

“You’re only proving my point, Mack!” you said, sitting up. “Relationships end. They’re messy and leave us heartbroken. And maybe the magic blinds you for a while and you get married, but I’ve met more people with divorced parents than married ones. And I’ve seen so many loveless marriages that the couple only sticks together because they wouldn’t know what else to do. I’ve seen couples break up in restaurants. I’ve seen couples fight and scream at a public park. Love isn’t real. And if it is, I can live without it.”

Mackenzie looked at you with the most pity filled expression you’ve ever seen. She believes in love. She believes in the shitty romance novels and shitty movies. But you’ve picked up her pieces too many times to even contemplate believing in it.

“Love is real!” she exclaimed. “How else could people have written sonnets and movies and books and songs about it?”

“People write stuff about monsters, too, but you don’t see any people bursting into flames in the sunlight,” you said.

“In Twilight they sparkled!”

“I don’t give a shit what they did, they’re still made up,” you laughed. “It’s called fiction for a reason.”

“You can’t make up a feeling. You can’t make up being so enamored by someone that you miss them so bad it hurts when they’re not with you!”

“You’re just repeating things you’ve heard in movies about love!” you argued. “You haven’t even been in love. Not truly. You told me so when you broke up with Jason.”

“So go on this date, and if it all works out, you can tell me what love is. They even call oxytocin the love chemical! You believe in science! And I believe that this guy is the perfect match for you,” your best friend continued to beg. “Think of it as a science experiment.”

You ended up caving, more so to get Mackenzie to stop begging. It’s not like you were against dating, you’ve had plenty of relationships, but after so many failed ones you stop seeing the point. You could get your needs met without being tied down and risking becoming attached. That’s all that “love” really was. Attachment. Sure, it’s nice to have one person that’s somewhat of a best friend to spend your life with. But adding all of that “girlfriend and boyfriend” stuff to it is destined for failure. And you were done with it.

When you found him at the restaurant, you were taken back. You’d seen pictures of him so that you’d know who to look for, but he looked so much better in person. His hair looked unbelievably soft, and he somehow made the locks seemingly out of place look perfect. His soft eyes were to die for, and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up made the veins in his arm visible. All you wanted to do was trace them.

“Y/N?” the boy asked when he noticed you staring. He stood up to greet you, helping you slip off your jacket to hang on the back of the chair as he pulled it out for you. He waited for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. “I’m Quinn.”

“So I’ve heard,” you chuckled. “I’ve been told that you’re the sweetest guy Mackenzie knows and are bound to change my mind about my stance on relationships.”

“I’ve heard you don’t believe in love,” Quinn countered.

Your eyes widened, and if you were taking a drink, you would’ve choked on it.

“Wow,” you said amused. “Mack jumped to the nitty gritty then? I take it this means that you do believe in love?”

“I do,” Quinn confirmed.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Not yet. But I’ve seen it. My parents have the purest love I’ve ever seen. They spread it to everyone they know and everyone my brothers and I know. They make it hard to not believe in it.”

You couldn’t help but feel soft at his statement. You’ve never heard anyone tell you that they believe in love because of their parents. Hell, you haven’t really had a guy firmly tell you that he believes in love. It was always your girl friends swearing up and down that “the one” is out there.

“Are you going to teach me how to love, Quinn Hughes?” you said flirtily, placing your hand under your chin.

Quinn reached across the table and grabbed your other hand, “I’m going to show you what a romantic date is supposed to be like. And if you like it, I’ll take you on another. And another. And if we get there, I’ll show you how a real man acts as a boyfriend. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll fall in love. And I won’t say it until I know it’s there.”

“How will you know it’s love?” you asked. He already had you melting at his advances.

“I’ll know when it’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. I’ll know when it’s a feeling that can’t be described as anything but love. Are you in?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Quinn was serious. He didn’t want a fling. He wasn’t here to get sex at the end of the night. He was here to see if he can find the real thing with you. He was here for a challenge.

“I’m in.”

Over dinner you two did the usual small chat about yourselves, but that quickly developed into telling full out stories. It wasn’t awkward with him like it had been on some other first dates. You were strangely very comfortable with him.

He told you about his summer at his lake house with his family and friends, you told him about your trip to London with your cousins. He told you about how he first met Mack when she was drunk off her ass at a party back when she was still dating Brock, the only ex she ended on good terms with and is still friends with, and you told him about how she was not her drunkest at that party, and that one time you two snuck out of a party to have a lightsaber fight but didn’t have lightsabers so you used traffic cones.

“You did not!” Quinn laughed.

“We did!” you shouted over your laughs. You were definitely getting stares, but you didn’t care. “I beat her ass, too.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah. I totally had the high ground.”

Quinn walked you to your car at the end of the night. You two shut down the restaurant, neither one of you desired to leave. You boldly grabbed his hand as you started walking and were relieved when he looped your fingers together in response.

“Did you have a good time?” Quinn asked you when you arrived at your car.

“I really did. I’m not sure I want it to end,” you admitted.

You wanted so badly to ask him to come over. But he told you that he wanted to give you a romantic date, not a pre-sex affair. He’s looking for something real. Something that isn’t just sex.

“Me either,” he smiled.

As you two looked at each other, your eyes started flickering from his to his lips. He noticed, but you knew that he was doing the same.

Your hunger ended when Quinn finally leaned in. His hands slid down your waist and settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Yours went up and around his neck, happily content feeling the ends of his hair.

Quinn kissed you in a way that you’ve never been kissed before. It was soft. Sensual. It had you aching for more. The feeling that people describe as “sparks flying?” You were pretty sure this was it.

The kiss wasn’t rough; it wasn’t filled with primal need.

It left you breathless. Lightheaded. Warm.

It was the type of kiss that told you there was more to him. And all you wanted to do was learn.

“That was—“

“Don’t describe it,” Quinn cut you off in a whisper. He reached his hand out to cup your face, “Just feel it.”

All you could do was nod your head. You felt your entire body quivering at his touch.

Quinn smiled and opened up your car door for you, “Tell me when you get home?”

“Y-yeah. I will,” you stammered. You couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Drive safe!”

“Goodnight, Quinn,” you smiled.

You watched him walk away in your rear view mirror, smiling madly. Quinn left you feeling like a giddy little girl. It was something that no one else has ever done.

March 16, 2021

You were going on your fifth date with Quinn tonight, and Mack was swearing up and down that Quinn was going to make things official.

“Y/N/N, trust me!” she said while dramatically shaking you by the shoulders.

“I want to!” you laughed, shoving her off of you. “I just don’t want to get any hopes up. We’re going out to have a good time and that’s it!”

“Hopes up you say?” Mack asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Does that mean you want Quinn to ask you? Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, WANT a boyfriend just mere weeks after saying you were done with dating forever?”

“I didn’t say forever!”

“Alright!” she surrendered. “I’m keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to jinx anything, but just know that I am a very happy girl right now!”

You shook your head at your best friend’s nonsense. Okay, maybe you were hoping what she was saying will turn out to be true tonight, and maybe you were liking the goodnight calls and good morning texts and mid day updates. And maybe you relish in the smile Quinn gives you when you stand at the glass during warm ups at his games while you wear his jersey. And maybe you’ve never felt like this before, and it was making you the happiest you’ve ever been. But you weren’t sure if it was love. Love was still a weary and scary concept for you at this point. But maybe… maybe this is pre-love? Maybe this is the build up. Maybe this is the jump before the fall.

You weren’t scared of jumping.

Whatever it is, you’re pretty positive it’s too early for love. You’re just now open to the idea of love because of Quinn, so you certainly were skeptical at the notion of “love at first sight.” Although, it’s been a little too long to count as “first sight.” Love at fifth date? Love at hundredth facetime? Call it what you want, but it still felt way too soon.

You were still doing your makeup when there was a knock at the door, signaling that Quinn was here.

“Mack, could you—“

“I’m already on it!” she cut you off, rushing down the stairs to open the door.

You tried to finish up your mascara really quickly, but that only resulted in your dropping it and smearing some across your cheek.

“Shit!”

“Shit?” you heard Quinn ask. You gasped in surprise, and he just laughed as he approached you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed the top of your head before taking a look at you, “Ahh. I see the source of the shit.”

“It’ll wipe off, it’s fine,” you shrugged. “I’ll just need five more minutes?”

Quinn smiled, “Take all the time you need to feel happy.”

If you were alone and that was a text, you’d probably be kicking your feet at Quinn’s comment. He didn’t say anything teasing that you take forever, he didn’t use the cliché “you look pretty without makeup” or whatever, he said that he wants you to feel happy with your appearance. You didn’t know why that felt more romantic than a compliment; it just did. He was focusing on your emotions and confidence. He was validating you. Validation and understanding feels a lot more intimate than a compliment about your appearance.

“I’m ready!” you sing-songed as you climbed down the stairs.

Quinn was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands behind his back and a soft smile on his face.

You jumped from the fourth step down to the second step. You reached out gently to tilt Quinn’s face towards yours and leaned down to crash your lips against his. You stepped down to the final step to become level with when he deepened the kiss. He released one of his hands to place it at the small of your back in order to draw you in, but the other remained.

“Whatcha hidin’, handsome?” you asked cheekily.

Quinn’s other hand quickly whipped around in front of his center and revealed a bouquet of daisies and lavender. You gasped and kissed him quick, taking the bouquet from him and inhaling its sweet scent with a smile after your lips parted.

“They’re beautiful,” you told him.

“They’re not the only thing,” he whispered.

“You flirt,” you blushed.

You both bid your goodbyes to Mackenzie and walked out the door. Quinn rushed slightly ahead of you to open up the passenger door for you before making his way to the driver's seat. It was a quick drive to the mini golf place, and it was filled with you two goofily singing along to the radio.

When you got there, you were surprised at how many people and families there were. It was a Saturday night, but still. You didn’t know this many people went mini golfing at any given moment.

You picked out a pink club, and Quinn grabbed a green one. He held out his hand for you to take, and for once, you didn’t feel weird holding somebody’s hand in public. It was a small act, but it was still a big deal for you. You used to do it with previous boyfriends, but that was because you felt like you had to in order to try and feel like you were in a normal relationship. You want to hold Quinn’s hand. You love the way your hand fits in his and how warm his hands are. You love how rough they feel compared to your soft ones. Just this simple action made you feel safe and less overwhelmed by the amount of people. It made you feel like it was just you and him.

“Ready to lose, Y/L/N?” Quinn taunted you.

“Don’t be so cocky,” you teased back. “I’m a pro at this.”

“You said you haven’t been mini golfing in years!” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m trying to speak me winning into the universe, Quintin!”

Needless to say, you were terrible, but Quinn gave you two extra puts each round to try and get you more points. It didn’t make much of a difference for how badly he was beating you, but it made you feel good.

“What ever happened to letting the girl win?” you groaned. “Some gentleman you are.”

Quinn softly smiled and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the small of your back, he kissed you gently, “I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t fake sucking.”

You dramatically threw your head back, groaned, then gave him a pout when you looked back at him. Quinn laughed and kissed you again, effectively wiping the pout off your face.

This was also something big for you– kissing in public. PDA. You’ve never done that. You always pulled away or forced the kiss to be a quick peck instead. You were worried about people staring and judging. But not with Quinn. You didn’t care who was around, you wanted them to know that you were happy.

Unsurprisingly, Quinn won. He cheered with his club in both hands being held above his head, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Stop parading around like you just won the Stanley Cup!” you shouted.

Quinn whipped his head towards you in mock offense. He walked towards you and kissed you again, much more firmly this time, “I’m sorry you sucked.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled.

“I do believe me winning deserves a prize!”

“Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind?” you smirked.

You were expecting his answer to be something along the lines of another kiss or going out for ice cream, but what he said proved your best friend to be correct.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked you softly. He was confident in his question. He had the biggest smile on his face that was filled with so much hope and admiration.

“I’d love to,” you answered.

Now Quinn really looked like he won the Stanley Cup. His eyes lit up brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and his smile looked like it hurt. You should know, because your smile was so big that it did hurt. Quinn hugged you so tightly that your feet kicked off the ground and he spun you in a circle. When he put you back down, he kissed you passionately. It was different than every other kiss you two have shared, given that is a small number since this was only your fifth date. This one meant more. This one said more.

When he walked you to your door and kissed you goodbye, you reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned around slowly, and you knew that the look in your eyes said all that you wanted to say.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Positive.”

Mackenzie was already in her room for the night, much to your relief. You and Quinn kissed all the way up the stairs and into your bedroom. The second your bedroom door closed; clothes began to be thrown off. He threw you on your back onto your bed like it was nothing, then he climbed on top of you and began to pepper kissed up your stomach, through your neck, across your jaw, until he finally reached your lips again.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he said low.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please don’t stop.”

April 14, 2021

You were pretty sure you were feeling it. No, you knew you were feeling it.

Love.

You were feeling just like the movies and love songs and poems said– you were enamored by Quinn. You missed him so bad that it hurt when you weren’t with him, especially when he was on roadies during the season (you were selfishly glad that it’s over for the time being). You felt like the best version of yourself when he was around. But you were also learning that your definition of love was so much more than that.

“OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN! I KNEW IT!” Mackenzie screamed when you told her.

“Alright!” you giggled. “You knew it, you did it, congratulations! Now how do I tell him? Do I wait for him to tell me? What if it goes away and I don’t–”

“Are you sure it’s love?” she cut you off.

“I am. It’s new, and it’s freeing, and it’s–agh! It’s perfect. It has to be,” you said, covering your hands over your face so that she couldn’t see how wildly you were blushing and grinning.

Mack grabbed your wrists and yanked your hands off your face, “I don’t think that’s going away, babe! Now tell me! The deal was that you’d tell me what love is! Spill it! And don’t quote the movies!”

“I think love is different for everybody. I’m feeling the stuff that they say in the movies and the sonnets and the songs, but it’s so much more than that. Love is… wild. Love is like a never-ending joy ride with the windows down and your favorite songs blaring on the stereo. Love is like that feeling you get in your body when you hear a new song, and it absolutely consumes you to where you heat up and feel like you're vibrating. Love is feeling like you could do the impossible as long as your person is right there beside you. Love can feel like you’re flying.

“But love can also make you feel safe. Love is feeling at home with your person, no matter where you are. You could be in the backseat of a car, but if you were with your person? That could be home for the time being. Love is like that feeling of pride and relief when you deep clean your house for the first time in forever. Love is like sitting by the ocean and watching the waves crash against the sand, and none of the sand ends up in your shoes.

“Loving Quinn feels like a breath of fresh air. Loving Quinn makes me feel like I finally know who I am and who I could be. Loving Quinn makes me feel alive for the very first time. It’s everything.”

Mack looked like she could burst into tears then and there. You were about to hug her when an all too familiar voice ceased your movements.

“Did you mean that?”

You turned around so quickly that your head spun. There, standing at the edge of your living room, was Quinn.

“Yeah,” you whispered with a nod. “Every word.”

Quinn rushed towards you and cupped your face, slamming his lips onto yours. You heard Mack clap with glee, but you didn’t care. She was slipping away, and only you and Quinn existed in the world at this very moment.

“I love you,” you breathed when you two had to come up for air.

“I love you,” Quinn echoed. “You described it perfectly. I felt every word. I am helplessly, irrevocably, completely, and utterly in love with you. I’ll never stop saying it. Not now that I know what it means.”

“I didn’t believe in love before you. I didn’t know what love was. It’s you, Quinn. My love is yours, and only yours.”

The smile on Quinn’s face was contagious, but your face was already painted with one. You didn’t expect to fall in love, and you certainly didn’t expect to say it first. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was a god, maybe it was the stars aligning. You didn’t know why, but you did know that you were made to love Quinn Hughes alongside all of the other things you were made for.

Love was real. And you can’t live without it. And you’re so glad that you learned that.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #quinn hughes reader insert #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fanfiction

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nattinatalia · 6 months

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Jack Harlow x Reader : HOW DO WE FIX THIS?

You were running late and he was going to hate you for it but he’ll understand eventually. He knows that when working on a new album, it takes time and dedication, so he’ll definitely understand.

You rush out of your car, slamming the door shut, making sure you lock it behind you and storm inside your shared home.

“Jack?” You yell out, taking off your coat and throwing it on the hanger. “Jackman, are you down here?”

You head to the kitchen and see the dining table beautifully set up with rose petals and candles scattered around. There’s food on the table as well and a flower arrangement but still no sign of your husband.

You look around the kitchen and notice all the pots in the sink, smiling to yourself because you can already picture him around the kitchen. Jack is definitely not a cook, he has a hard time following your recipes, but it’s the thought that counts.

You see a little notepad sticking to the fridge door and head to it, “Went to pick up the kids.”

You start washing dishes and picking up the kitchen real quick, as soon as you put the last dish in the rack, you hear little footsteps running inside.

You smile and head to the living room, “Are those my babies?”

“Momma.”

“Mommy.”

Both kids tackle you to the floor and hug you. “Oh I missed you guys. How was your day with grandma?”

“It was so fun” Mia starts, “we painted and watched movies, then tio Clay came over and we played water balloon fight.”

You smile at that, brushing her hair out of her face. “That sounds like a fun day bug.”

Ez nods “it was super fun momma, but I missed you and daddy.”

“Well how about we all cuddle in bed and watch some movies huh?” You suggest, the kids start nodding in excitement.

“You two little monsters need to shower and head to bed early.” Jack says, reaching for the kids.

“But daddy, we wants cuddles and movies.”

“I know little man, but tomorrow we have a busy day, so head upstairs and get your towels. I’ll be there in a sec.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, staring at Jack but he doesn’t even look at you.

You stand up and smile down at the kids. “Háganle caso a su papá.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.” They both say and run away to do what their dad asked.

“What’s tomorrow?.”

“What?”

“You told them tomorrow is a busy day, what’s tomorrow?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “Tomorrow is our annual family trip.” He rolls his eyes. “You know, the one you’ve been planning since last year.”

“Shit, I totally forgot about that.” You groan and mentally slap yourself.

“Yeah I can tell, you’ve been doing that lately.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been super busy with this album and I know that isn’t an excuse but-“

“Then don’t make it an excuse, I need you here, present with us. How many times did you give me shit for spending all my time working and not putting our family first?” He snaps.

“Jack-“ You shake your head, going up to him trying to wrap your arms around him but he pushes you off.

“You out of everyone should know how important it is to leave all that shit outside the door. When we’re here is for us and our kids. You haven’t been around to know that Ezequiel lost two teeth, or that Mia won her kickball game, a game she hates.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m a bad mom.” You whisper and wrap your arms around yourself.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He takes a deep breath. “Balance and communication is all I’m asking for.”

“DADDY WE READY.” Ezequiel yells.

“On my way little man.” Jack yells back.

He turns to look at you, kissing your forehead. “I love you, you’re the love of my life and the mother of my kids. I’ve given you time to work on your projects, but you haven’t been here. We either find a way to fix this, fix us. Or there’s no more us.”

You snap your head his way. “W-what does that mean?”

“You know what it means.” He shrugs.

“You don’t understand, you think this is easy? You don’t know what I’m going through.” You snap with tears rolling down your face.

“Yeah because you don’t tell me anything anymore.” He replies sadly and walks out, heading to your kids.

“Because if you knew, you’d hate me.” You whisper after he leaves.

•••••••••••••

TAG LIST

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow x oc

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jupitercomet · 7 months

Text

Living with Ghosts

summary - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw was ruthless, a stone cold killer both in and outside of the ring—with the belts and trophies to prove it. When a miscalculation results in a target being put on the back of his trainer's daughter, Bradley finds himself facing responsibility he never signed up for. You're a whole new challenge. And Bradley doesn't think you're one he can fight his way out of.

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, no use of y/n, brief mention of drugs, throwing up, gore, minor character death, stalking, mentions of blood, mentions of bullet holes, talks previous abuse, this chapter is dark please be mindful of the warnings

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.2k

monsters in the dark masterlist

“Bradley?”

You feel slightly nervous standing in the doorway of his bedroom, shivering in an old t-shirt and sleep shorts. The clock on Bradley’s bedside reads 1:34 am and you wince at the glowing green numbers. You shouldn’t be bothering him this early in the morning.

As if agreeing with you, Bradley groans softly, pulling the pillow over his head as the light from the hall filters in onto his face. You’re contemplating just going back to your room, but a sudden creak of the floorboards keeps you alert and you feel too scared to be alone.

“Bradley?” You try again, slightly louder.

“Mm.”

That’s as good of an answer from him as you’re going to get and you swallow, fidgeting with your fingers as you try to piece a sentence together. “I, um, I can’t sleep… I—”

Wordlessly, Bradley shifts and opens his blanket up for you.

You blink, your breath rising unsurely. “Bradley?”

“Get in.”

You move to the bed, laying on your back stiffly as Bradley lazily throws the blanket over you. His bed is much warmer than yours but, although you can feel your eyes getting heavy, you’re still nervous to fall asleep. This is a big step, sleeping in the same bed, and you guys are just friends. Bradley would regret it when he woke up, you’re sure of it.

“Is this weird?” You fixate your gaze on the ceiling. “Am I overstepping? Actually, now that I think about it, I’m really okay. I could just—”

“Go to sleep, toots.”

You shut your mouth quickly, bunching the covers closer to your chin. Bradley is already making soft noises next to you, alerting you to the fact that he’s fallen back asleep. With one more deep breath, you manage to relax yourself enough to close your eyes.

Bradley’s bed feels like perfect nightmare repellent, so warm and soft. The bed in the guest room is nice too, but it’s not as comforting, it doesn’t soak up all your bad thoughts and hold them for you. It feels impossible to be anything but calm under Bradley’s blankets.

It’s strange, since moving in with Bradley you can’t really remember having a nightmare. Maybe there was some fitful sleep you can remember hazily, but with everything going on you assumed your nightmares would be worse. However they only started picking up after your episode in the grocery store parking lot.

You were too embarrassed to face Bradley after all of it had happened, staying silent during the ride home and holing yourself in your room as soon as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Bradley let you thankfully, only knocking on your door to alert you that dinner was ready. You felt sick, almost too malnourished to eat, so you only had a small helping, eating a couple bites before getting up and excusing yourself quickly.

Movie nights halted, you stopped accidentally falling asleep on the couch—which was another embarrassing thing you noticed you did, and the nightmares started getting worse.

One thing you’re grateful for is that Bradley has yet to question you about what happened in the grocery store parking lot. He has yet to question you about anything actually. Though you’re trying your hardest, you know you seem off, like you’re almost back to yourself but not quite. You had to tell your friends at the shelter that you think you might be coming down with something, but Bradley hasn’t forced you to lie to him.

And maybe that’s why you trust him enough to have come to him now. Because Bradley never makes you feel like you owe him anything—an explanation, or reasoning, or compensation. He just does what you need him to and leaves it at that. He doesn’t really know anything about you—he might not even like you—but you trust Bradley. You trust him enough to ask him for help.

Suddenly Bradley shoots out of the bed, bleary eyes trying to focus on you, and you wonder if he’s just now piecing together that you’re in his bed and how weird of a boundary this is for the two of you to cross. He looks at the door and then back at you.

“Get up.”

“I’m sorry,” you start, eyes widening as you hastily scramble out of his sheets. “I didn’t mean— I didn’t think—” You’re cut off when Bradley grabs your waist and moves you over him to his side of the bed. You have to blink a few times, confusion—and the feeling of Bradley’s fingers on your body—lingering.

Bradley lies back down, already looking like he’s falling back asleep. “Don’t want you next to the door,” he says simply.You fall asleep, warm and soft and safe.

“But he’s such a trooper, Bradley! He had to get most of his teeth pulled, so now his tongue kind of lolls out—it’s really cute. But, at least for this week, I thought he should get some fancy wet food.”

Bradley grunts in response, only listening offhandedly to you recounting why you’re at a pet store getting cat food for one of the elderly cats in the shelter. You seem to be back to your old self, partly anyway. You’re excited enough to drag him to a Petco, and wave at all the dogs walking around so Bradley feels that, at the very least, your mood has improved.

He still hasn’t quite figured out what had happened at the grocery store. Whatever it was left you completely out of it for the rest of the day and then weirdly quiet for the following ones. Bradley knew it wasn’t his business to ask, so he didn’t. You have friends - Natasha, your parents. If you needed to talk to someone it certainly wouldn’t be him.

You crawling into his bed was a surprise though, one he chalked up to being too tired to think it through properly. Bradley is still slightly confused why he let you. Keeping you company on the couch was one thing, having you sleeping in his bed was another. He thinks he just feels bad for you, but he’s also not the type to feel bad for people. It’s confusing.

“Bradley!” You point excitedly at a small chihuahua in a hushed whisper. “Look! She’s wearing a little sweater!”

“It’s… cute.” Bradley nods once in acknowledgement.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Bradley checks it discreetly as you move to gush over the chihuahua. In a turn of events he had never seen coming, Bradley managed to get himself involved with Jake “Hangman” Seresin of all people. A narrowly missed punch to the face resulted in the two sitting down and determining that whatever was going on was bigger than just you and him.

Jake’s girlfriend had been your regular waitress at Knockouts—that was the extent of Bradley’s relationship with her, he didn’t even know her name—but for whatever reason someone thought he did know her and she was assaulted on her way home from work as a way to send him a warning.

It took Jake a few days to agree to help Bradley out—and stop looking like he wanted to turn Bradley’s head into a stain on the concrete—but a few nights ago Bradley got a text from him. Jake always had a thing for revenge.

Hangman:

I dropped the drugs off at Mav’s. He says they look like steroids, but he’s gonna have one of his cop buddies check them out.

You’re saying goodbye to the dog before Bradley can fully type out a response, so he simply likes the message and pockets his phone. With everything becoming drastically more serious, he’s been hesitant to get you involved with what’s going on. He’s sure Adler would have his head on a plate if he wasn’t.

The pictures of you have stopped, so, logically, your role in the whole thing has too. Bradley has yet to bring that up to Adler though. For some reason, he can’t help but think he’s fallen into something much deeper than Razor and their fight outside the Hard Deck. Natasha had been trying to text Isaac, to get some answers or maybe let Adler come out of retirement and take a few swings in the ring Bradley wasn’t sure which, but the other boxer had been unreachable.

“Her name is Petunia. Isn’t that just the sweetest?” You’re still talking about the chihuahua when you make your way back to Bradley and his eyebrows raise just slightly at the fact you’ve been talking about and to a dog for at least five minutes.

Before he can respond, you’re whirling around to look at dog toys—which are arguably not wet cat food—offhandedly asking Bradley if he thinks certain dogs at the shelter would like certain toys. Bradley knows that you don’t expect an answer from him. One thing he can say he definitely likes about you is, though you’re always chatty, you never force him to talk to you.

“Oh, Oscar would love this one!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley notices two people moving through the Petco. They’re heading in opposite directions, both too caught up in their phone or the aisle signs above them to notice that their carts are about to collide. Briefly, Bradley’s mind flashes to the waste bin in the parking lot, sudden and loud. The carts get closer. He sees the terror in your eyes and the way you seemed to forget where you were. The carts get closer.

Without thinking, Bradley shoots his hands out to cover your ears, muffling the sounds of the carts crashing and the screams of surprise. You flinch at the unexpected feeling, turning to look at him, before you also notice the aftermath of the two carts. Bradley drops his hands once the noise has passed, trying not to let your look of gratitude affect him too strongly.

He didn’t even do that much, but you’re looking at him like he just pulled you out of oncoming traffic. There’s a soft glimmer in your eyes that Bradley can’t seem to tear himself away from and it’s like the air shifts. Like a spark almost, the kind he gets right before a fight.

He doesn’t let the feeling linger long, redirecting your attention to what you came for in the first place with a clear of his throat. “Which aisle’s cat food, toots?”

“Right. Cat food.” You bite back a small smile.

“Did you order a package?” Bradley hears you call as he steps out of the shower.

His brows furrow because he didn’t order anything and he slides on his boxers. Maybe Natasha did. He wouldn’t put it past her to order something for the two of you without saying anything. Bradley can hear you hum to yourself as you open the package and he unfolds the sweatpants he set on the bathroom counter.

He tries to guess what Natasha ordered. Something childish certainly, like conversation starters for old married couples that you would use unironically because that’s the kind of person you are. Bradley sighs at just the thought of spending dinners answering questions about his love language and life goals. It’s silent in the kitchen where you're opening the package and Bradley reaches for his shirt off the countertop.

The apartment echoes when you scream suddenly.

Without thinking Bradley drops the shirt, rushing out of the bathroom to find you staring at a cardboard box in horror. You’re covering your mouth with shaky fingers, your breath quick as your eyes start to water.

“Oh my god—” You interrupt yourself with a lurch forward, making a dive for the kitchen trash can as you dispel your lunch into it. Bradley acts quickly, clearing your face of anything that might get in the way as you gag repeatedly into the bin.

He’s supporting you entirely now, not a single muscle in your body able to hold up your own weight as you hunch over. Looking over your shaking form, Bradley tries to look into the box and see what has caused such a visceral reaction in you. His blood runs cold when he catches sight of more photographs—but they’re not of you this time.

What Bradley sees instead is the bloody and beaten body of Razor, slumped in a bathtub, uncharacteristically relaxed. His neck looks almost too relaxed, and if that doesn’t clue Bradley into his current state, the bullet hole in the center of his forehead certainly does. In another photo, Razor’s lifeless eyes stare back at him, glazed over and glassy. They’re almost haunting, hollow and bloodshot. The only gleam in them comes from the empty reflection of the camera taking the photo.

There look to be about five pictures in the box, all at different angles and distances from Razor’s body. As if those angles were needed to convince Bradley. Though some of the photos are just Razor, limp in a dirty, ceramic bathtub, others capture a few men who Bradley doesn’t recognize. They’re dressed nicely—too nicely for what looks like a grimy motel bathroom—with polished shoes and ironed button ups. Though, even through the blurry pictures, Bradley can tell that they’re speckled with blood.

You’re whimpering against him, having emptied your stomach, and you hide your eyes in Bradley’s bare chest. “I know,” you whisper.

Bradley’s hardly paying attention though, something else catching his eye. Looking like it was haphazardly tossed in the box alongside the photographs is what Bradley assumes had triggered your frantic state of nausea. Because laying atop one of the pictures is a severed finger. He feels numb as he stares at the dismembered index finger. It’s almost like he can’t even see it, but instead, he sees what it means.

Someone killed Razor. And they send Bradley DNA proof because they knew he might not believe they killed Razor. And they know where Bradley lives.

“I know,” you repeat and it pulls Bradley’s attention away from the box. “I know. I know. I know.”

“What? Toots—” Bradley finally looks down to see that you are also staring at the box, your gaze hollow and empty as you shake against him. Bradley covers your eyes with his hand, pushing your ear against the skin of his chest. He swallows thickly. You’re still repeating the phrase over and over. I know. I know. I know.

Against his palm, Bradley can feel something wet. You’ve started crying.

“What do you know?” Bradley keeps his voice low and taps three times against your temple. He checks to make sure you can’t peek through his fingers and taps again.

Bradley taps three times again and then three more, and finally you can speak. “I know who was helping him.”

Bradley freezes.

Like there isn’t a box with a severed finger and pictures of a dead man sitting on his kitchen counter, he picks you up and takes you to his room. The box doesn’t matter to him, looking at it more doesn’t matter to him, he just wants to take you away from it. If Bradley had the time, he might have wondered when that had become his first priority, but he doesn’t, so instead he focuses on trying to figure out what you’re talking about as he sits you both on his bed.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think he was serious. I didn’t—” You’re talking to yourself now, in frantic whispers, and Bradley has to grab your hand before you can start scratching yourself.

“Toots.” Bradley’s voice is firm and you look up at him with wide, startled eyes, as if suddenly realizing he’s there. “I need you to tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I, um,” you close your eyes like you’re trying to spit the words out and, most likely without realizing, you move closer in his lap. “Look… I’m not proud of it and— And I don’t want you to see me any differently. I—”

“Toots.”

You take a breath. “About— About a year ago, I met this guy. He seemed nice and funny—we met at a bookstore so I thought that meant something, I don’t know. His name was Elias, and he thought I was pretty, and I liked him. So we started seeing each other more. Elias was a good guy, um, but sometimes he… wasn’t. He just— Being around him was like walking on eggshells. I never knew if I was gonna come home to Elias, my boyfriend who loved me, or… or someone else. He’d do things, terrible things, and then he’d take me to the ER and make me lie about it. The worst part was that he’d always tell me how sorry he was after—how he couldn’t believe he would do that to me and that he never would again. I—” Tears are spilling down your cheeks and you wipe them hastily, shaking your head as if ridding yourself of the thoughts.

“I finally built up the courage to leave him—obviously—but I was so scared. I— He always used to tell me that he was related to someone in the mob or something. At first, he’d say it and then laugh, really only when he got drunk. But then he’d get mad and he’d just scream it. That I didn’t even know how important he was. That I should remember that before I ever tried to leave him. I thought he was lying, or just trying to scare me, but…”

Bradley stays quiet. He watches your eyes dart back and forth as you recall the memory.

You close your eyes again, if Bradley didn’t know any better he’d think you were having another nightmare. “He’s in one of the pictures, I— I know it’s him.” A pained expression takes over your face and your lip wobbles as tears build up in your waterline. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault—”

Finally, the puzzle of you that has been taking up Bradley’s brain makes sense. The nightmares. Adler. The grocery store parking lot. They all fit together, each piece has clicked into place. Bradley doesn’t like this puzzle though. Your apologetic whimpers make him feel more sick and unsettled than the box in his kitchen. So Bradley finds himself doing something he hasn’t done since he was a child. He hugs you.

“’S not your fault.”

You shake your head, your breath stuttering against his shoulder. “He killed someone, Bradley.”

“And it’s not your fault,” Bradley repeats. He drops one hand from you, patting his pocket, only to remember he left his phone in the bathroom, and looks at your exhausted figure slumped against him. “I’m gonna call Mav.”

You get up wordlessly and Bradley misses your weight, but he doesn’t linger on the thought, instead getting off his bed with the intent to leave the room. Before he can take a step though, you're freezing him in place by hesitantly trying to hold his hand. You interlock your fingers shyly as if giving him time to yank his hand away, but he doesn’t. Bradley looks down at you.

“Can I stay with you? Please?” You ask meekly. Bradley nods, keeping your hand in his as he leads you both to the bathroom.

He decides to keep the note at the bottom of the box—the one you clearly hadn’t noticed—to himself.

join my Bradley Bradshaw taglist here or follow my library @jupitercometgold

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#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw au #rooster imagine #rooster imagines #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster angst #rooster au #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #monsters in the dark #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

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attractive-nuisance-esq · 7 months

Text

Ed’s journey this season is going to perfectly mirror addiction and recovery, and I am so fucking here for it. Watching these first three episodes of S2 was like watching a highly dramatized AU of my own descent into rock bottom (except everyone was dressed wayyyyyy cooler than I ever was), so I have a lot of thoughts, reactions, and insights that I want to share with other fans. I’m sure many of us who have struggled with our mental health connected with Ed in these episodes, but I think addiction is the most appropriate lens through which to view him because addicts (more often than people who struggle with other mental illnesses) so wholly destroy their own lives and utterly devastate those of their loved ones. I want to share - from the perspective of someone who has steered her own ship straight into a storm and woke up alone to face some very hard choices - what is going on with Ed at the start of this season and what I think is coming.

Let me start by saying that Ed isn’t literally addicted to any one thing, despite his heavy use of drugs and alcohol, but his goal is the same as that of all addicts: escape. He does not want to sit with the pain of Stede leaving him on an immediate, surface level; on a deeper, more habitual level, he doesn’t want to sit with the pain of his own self-loathing. Of course the two are related: the former brings the latter to a head. Stede abandoning him dredges up and brightly illuminates all of his insecurities, and now Ed has to run. Get out. Escape. Don’t think about it. So he is fighting, stealing, drinking, snorting, shooting, killing - whatever it takes to not think about it.

“Demon? I’m the fuckin’ devil.” People in recovery often talk about addiction as if it were a separate, sentient monster living within them. Ed taking on the mantle of demon - a creature known specifically for possession, for removing the host’s free will - is intentional. So is his insistence that he’s not just any demon but the demon. The worst there is. (More on that when we get to The Innkeeper.)

Izzy’s confrontation of Ed in the captain’s cabin and then on deck is a form of intervention. Izzy is trying to help Ed, but of course this goes terribly for him and for Ed because interventions (I cannot stress this enough) are maybe the worst thing you could do to an addict. All addicts know things are bad, but they cannot be pushed to change one single second before they’re ready. Ed knows things are bad. He’s well-aware of how he’s spending his time, how his crew feels about him, how disappointed Izzy is. Being confronted with all of those truths by Izzy was always only going to make him do two things: 1) dig further into his unhealthy coping mechanisms, never mind that they don’t have nearly the effect that they used to; and 2) lash out at the person who forced him to think about it. Izzy lost his leg the moment he stepped into Ed’s cabin.

The impossible bird. You guys remember the song Chandelier by Sia? The one about her addiction to alcohol? The whole thing may as well come right out of Ed’s mouth at the end of that first episode, because that experience is exactly what he’s trying to convey to Frenchie. Nevermind that Frenchie has the temerity to tell him the bird can’t exist, that it has to come down sometime, that flying forever isn’t sustainable. The bird can come down on its own terms, or crash… but Frenchie’s definitely not going to say that much. Still, “that sounds like something that can’t exist” hits Ed, and leads us to the next episode.

Now we’ve got Ed forlorn, heartbroken, almost catatonic while playing with his cake toppers. We don’t actually see him crying in the opening of the episode, which is the point. He’s done crying now. The impossible bird can’t exist, and Ed has already resigned himself to this. He’s decided to die. The only sure-fire permanent way to not think about it.

When next we see Ed, he seems to be doing better, but this is a huge red flag for anyone who knows to look. He’s giving away his responsibility to Frenchie; he’s cleaning the cabin for the closure. He knows the end is coming fast, and the relief that knowledge brings him leaves him weirdly at peace. It is he eeriest part of these episodes, IMO.

Then he goes to find his first mate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world, the man he just fucking shot and ordered killed. Ed needs his low opinion of himself validated, and of course he thinks he’ll get it from Izzy after everything he’s done to him. He wants the one person who has stuck with him through everything to confirm that he’s now irretrievably broken and no longer worthy of his love. Ed wants someone to tell him that he’s right: he should die.

He doesn’t get that from Izzy. Interestingly, Izzy doesn’t tell him he should die. He says “Clean up your own mess.” Izzy has learned the lesson now that Ed isn’t ready to get better and that he can’t make him be ready. (This post isn’t about Izzy, but hoo boy - I have big feels about that man.)

Ed has been indulging in various forms of self-destruction in order to not feel his feelings, and steering the ship into the storm is his worst indulgence yet. This is the worst of his crimes - not beheading or arson or a red wedding. It’s when he tries to bring down everyone who has ever loved him into his misery, into believing what he believes. The audience generally (and Ed’s audience of Stede specifically) can forgive him for hurting strangers and for the non-specific mayhem whose victims we’ve never met; but it is much less certain that anyone will forgive him for hurting the only family he’s ever known.

The storm itself is the perfect metaphor for Ed’s attempt on his and, incidentally, everyone else’s lives. One of the most common metaphors used by friends and family members of addicts is that of a hurricane: that their addicted loved-ones tend to destroy everything they touch, anyone who was foolish or brave enough to stick around. And, like hurricanes, addicts aren’t malicious. Ed’s primary goal here is to get himself killed, not to kill everyone else. He wants the ship to go down so his death is certain. His firing a cannonball into the mast and asking Jim and Archie to fight to the death isn’t malice: it’s utter and complete nihilism. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing and no one. The end is near, and he’s so fucking drunk and high off these distractions that he couldn’t think about it if he tried. He’s manic with relief. (See also: “Finally.”)

And now for the finale: Purgatory. Buckle up, because this is where the addiction analogy gets real *chef’s kiss.* Purgatory is the equivalent of the morning after the worst, most rock bottom binge night of your life. You wake up with no one for company but the ghosts of your former selves. Now what?

Well, first - who is Hornigold to Ed? Why is he the guy Ed sees? It’s because Hornigold is another addict, if you will, but one who is (in this Purgatory hallucination) farther along in his recovery. He can impart some wisdom from that place, but he can also stand in as someone Ed can loathe because they’re not as different as Ed once thought, even if Hornigold can say he’s grown.

Hornigold tries to give him soup. He tells Ed, “Gotta get these nutrients into you,” and then literally shoves soup down his throat. That’s what it’s like in rock bottom. You don’t want to take care of yourself, but some lizard brain survival instinct takes over and makes you drink water, eat a piece of fruit, take yourself to the hospital. These things don’t really happen voluntarily that morning after, but you can still count on that instinct to kick in with some damage control.

Ed telling Hornigold how he “got here.” Hornigold says “Mutiny. It’s always mutiny.” Ed insists his mutiny was special, worse somehow. This whole scene is exactly what happens in your first recovery support group meeting. You go in thinking no one has ever been as fucked and fucked up as you are, which makes you feel isolated and alone. But then you get there and everyone else in the circle has done the same shit, been through the same shit. Ed’s not actually the devil; he’s just another demon, like many demons before him.

Ed worries he’s insane when he reflects on everything he’s done. Hornigold’s reply that “Feeling bad isn’t going to rebuild an abdominal wall” is a concept that people usually learn a little bit later in recovery, so I expect we’ll see more on this theme from Ed. Guilt is a useless emotion that only serves to conversely make the addict feel better but doesn’t help the harmed party: the addict feels like their suffering is cleansing, but it’s not - feeling guilt is just more self-indulgence, more self-destruction. Hornigold - a fellow addict in this moment - is trying to get this lesson to him early. It’ll return.

“You’ve got to move on or blow your brains out.” We’re getting back to Purgatory as the metaphor for the morning-after rock bottom, because this is the exact calculation that every person in recovery has done. They all had to answer that one big question. Your whole life is a mess, and you made the mess. Do you want to clean it up? Or quit? (Or make some soup? Yeah. That big question can’t be answered without basic needs having been met. So let’s eat. Let’s start there. It’s easier.)

Now we have Ed’s fantasy about opening an inn: This is also a common part of the morning-after rock bottom. You start thinking about the wrong turns you took, the mistakes you made, the way your life was supposed to go and all the reasons you’re not where you wanted to be. (And all the people you can blame for the fact that your life didn’t go as planned.) And when that honest part of yourself starts telling you that actually it’s all your fault… well, a) you don’t wanna hear it, and b) you can’t silence (kill) that monster, no matter how hard you try. You’ve got to face it. Face all those truths you’ve been running from for years. Now you have to think about it.

So now the big question, the inevitable math. Hornigold suggests looking at the pros and the cons. That’s the easiest way to break the calculation into manageable variables. This is probably my favorite moment of the episode, because when you’re sitting there, morning after the worst night of your life, everything is fucked - these are the exact variables that go into your equation. Do I really want to live? You ask yourself that, and because your life is in fucking shambles, you come up with the stupidest goddamn reasons to keep going. You wanna see the next seasons of Good Omens and Loki. You wanna eat your mom’s spaghetti again. Sometimes it’s nice when someone hugs you. It’s never the big things that save your life; it’s a bunch of the littlest things. The smallest comforts. The big things… they’re too unattainable. They’re too much to hope for, and they’re more than you could possibly deserve. What are the pros of living for Ed? Warmth, good food, orgasms. This is a stunningly accurate representation of the things that will keep you alive once you’ve hit rock bottom.

And then the cons: “I don’t think anyone is waiting for me.” This is why addiction is the better metaphor. There is no human experience more isolating than addiction. You are alone in more ways than you’ve ever been before. You have pushed away or pissed off everyone who ever cared about you. And even the ones who will maybe still be there for you - they can’t help you clean up the mess you’ve made. You have to do the work alone, even if they’re still willing to stand next to you. And this con… it’s the scariest one. Your list of little pros looks so pathetic next to the horror of being utterly fucking alone. Who is going to brave that for some stupid shit like Tom Hiddleston sexily flipping his hair back in that Loki way he does? Why should Ed carry on just because blankets are cozy and marmalade is pleasant?

This is where we get to the moment on the mountain, and what Stede represents. Hornigold tells Ed “You’re unlovable, and you’re afraid to do anything about it.” Ed could do two things about being unlovable: He could try to fix it, or he could end it all. Hornigold represents the worst part of Ed: his weaknesses and cowardice. And if Hornigold is in the driver’s seat, he’s going to end it all. He throws the rock off the cliff, and Ed gets dragged down into the water to drown. (Let’s also talk later about how often addiction is compared to drowning, and how nothing else in the show actually threatened Ed’s life - not Izzy with a gun, not all the rhino horn, not Jim’s cannonball - like drowning in his own mind.)

But then there’s Stede. Stede is how the pros win over that one big, horrifying con. Stede is hope. Stede is just a glimmer of hope. Hope is the most important thing you need in the morning-after rock bottom. As much as I enjoy the idea that it was love that saved Ed, I don’t think that’s a wholly faithful interpretation. Because Stede’s love for Ed doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t fix anything - it certainly doesn’t fix Ed. It cannot fix Ed. Hornigold just told Ed that he’s the one who has to “do something about it,” because Ed is the only one who can save himself. But even if Stede’s love for him in itself isn’t what saves Ed, Ed’s trust in Stede combined with that love gives him hope. Stede loves Ed, truly loves him, came back to him even though he knows Ed’s nature, knows his list of crimes, knows what he’s done to Stede’s friends and family. And maybe Ed can find in himself what he trusts Stede truly sees. It’s a “maybe,” not a certainty. But it’s hope. Someone loves him. Maybe he can love himself, too.

This Woman’s Work: I read this song as referring more appropriately to Ed’s relationship with himself, in no small part because Ed literally made himself the woman in the cake topper couple. All the things that should have been done, should have been said - they’re things Ed needs to do and say to himself. He’s got a little life and a lot of strength left. The journey has just begun.

I want to pop back quickly to a few other moments in The Innkeeper that resonated, starting with Stede and Izzy’s discussion about what happened to Ed: “He went mad. He was a wild dog.” Izzy describes Ed’s breakdown as if he was no longer the same person he once was; this is exactly what addiction does to a person. Ed hasn’t been himself; he’s been held hostage by his need for escape, and he’s become something else. Possessed, if you will.

Izzy: “You and me did this to him, and we can’t let the crew suffer any more for our mistakes.” I’m not writing an essay on Izzy (yet), but this is a very interesting perspective that says a lot about Izzy. Stede and Izzy both owe apologies to Ed, but they are not responsible for his actions. I predict we’re going to see this theme explored in later episodes as a part of Ed’s healing process and recovery. And also hopefully in Izzy’s growth.

Frenchie’s line that “We’ve been living second-to-second for a while now” is a callback to the impossible bird idea. Which, again, is just Chandelier x Sia. “I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes, keep my glass full until morning light ‘cause I’m just holding on for tonight.”

So what’s next? For me, it was learning to sit alone in a quiet room with my thoughts. It was apologizing to the ones I hurt, because even if I didn’t mean to hurt them - even if I was suffering also and worse - they still got hurt, and in the end it didn’t matter why. It was developing the habit of liking myself, and acting on whatever self-love and affection I could conjure up. And yes… it was new seasons of Good Omens and Loki, my mom’s spaghetti, and hugs.

So I think Ed has a lot of accountability, reflection, and breaking of old habits in his future… but also warmth, good food, and orgasms. And good for him. That’s the beauty of recovery: we get to come back.

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arent-i-the-fairest · 2 years

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can I request something about the phantom bride event? You can really do anything for this, I just wanted to see what you could come up with!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

guy after guy rejected… after seeing eliza’s extremely specific and high standards, you didn’t have much hope that you would succeed. but hell, why not try just for the fun of it?

. . . she ended up saying yes to your proposal.

“another suitor? goodness, just when i thought they were gonna stop coming.” eliza looked you up and down. “well, go on. what do you have to offer?”

you gulped. the regret of volunteering to propose was really starting to kick in. she was irked and looking expectantly at you, already seeming ready to slap the life out of you.

the urge to run was strong, but you were already past the point of no return— so here goes anything.

“while i may not be able to sing, or own a dog, or go around riding on horseback, and i don’t fight monsters with a legendary sword, as sick as that would be— i love you. and i hope that despite all my shortcomings, you’ll accept my proposal.” you held out a small bunch of flowers you picked out just before arriving.

eliza was silent as she took the flowers from you, passing them to one of her guards. you saw her about to raise an arm and you immediately winced, shutting your eyes tightly and preparing for the sting of her slap.

but what came instead was a hug. puzzled, you opened your eyes and looked up at her. eliza was blushing and seemed ecstatic.

“nana? grampy? go and release idia— i’ve found my real true love!”

idia shroud

he was so relieved that someone was finally able to steal eliza’s heart— he was (internally) cheering, pumping his fist, ready to do backflips and cartwheels cause he’s so happy— then he sees that it was you. his crush. that’s when the party ended.

idia’s really honored you came to his rescue and all, but now he has to deal with the envy of watching you being adored and pampered by eliza. well, he’s used to seeing you being loved every day by, like, everyone else in the school, but it’s a whole different type of jealousy with eliza. he doesn’t know how to describe it.

“oh, idia, i’m so sorry! i can see how upset you are because i’ve found someone else. but surely you understand, don’t you?” eliza sniffled, draping herself over you for comfort.

“that is not why i’m in a bad mood!” idia opens his mouth to go on a tangent but closes it once he sees eliza isn’t paying a single bit of attention anymore.

she’s instead looking at you with stars in her eyes because you’re patting her shoulder in a halfhearted attempt to console her.

“oh, whatever..”

he’s grumbling complaints every second. he laments pretty much every day about how “this is the worst day i’ve had..…” but this one is actually up there.

eliza

you’re definitely not quite the type she was looking for. no lovely singing? no loyal dog at your beck and call? not even a legendary sword?? and you certainly didn’t have an air of nonchalance. your smile was more awkward than it was cool and charming— but she looked past all the missing qualities. your speech touched her, and now you’ve got her smitten.

you get to experience some of the things that idia did, which is neat~ examples are her singing you praises and dancing around. she’s looks so excited she seems like she could just burst!

“oh, how lucky i am to have a partner like you!” she giggled, floating around you. “our wedding will be just as wonderful as you are, my love~! you were worth the 500 year wait!”

about 10 minutes in, you were already feeling suffocated by love. but hey, on the bright side, you can rub your victory in the faces of all the rejected guys, which is pretty amusing!

“c’mon guys, what’s with the long faces?” you smirk. “a little down i was the true prince/ss of her dreams?”

“these aren’t ‘jealous’ faces,” leona frowns. “they’re ‘i’m tired and wanna leave’ faces.”

you chuckle, quickly checking over your shoulder to see if eliza was near. “just hold on a little while longer and you’ll all be free, okay?”

being the object of eliza’s affection was absolutely tiring, but all you had to do was get the ring sam gave you on her finger and this would all be over with. but you reached into your pocket and felt nothing.

shit.

“u-uh…. guys?”

#i know eliza’s supposed to be the antagonist of the event…. but i adore herrr~! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #idia x reader #twst eliza x reader #gn reader

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satansapostle6 · 3 months

Text

The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

Spotify Playlist Link

Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten: My Destruction

Luke discovered that fucking for seven hours straight does indeed take a lot out of you. Although he and Katherine only got about four or so hours of sleep, they were both still depleted.

“Let’s find someplace to eat. I think we need a huge breakfast after last night,” Katherine suggested.

“I second that,” Luke sighed as he climbed out of the shower, towel around his waist.

“Hurry up before we get started on round two,” she reminded him, pulling up her jeans. “Did you have to bite me?” she questioned, pulling her shirt over the mark.

“Yes,” he assured her before combing through his hair.

“Yeah, that was a trick question.”

Luke threw on the first set of clean clothes he could find, ready to leave.

“We should get moving. We’ve been in one place too long. I got a message about some Chimera thing going on in Baltimore.”

“Alright. We can get breakfast, and be there by tonight,” he thought. “I’ll drive.”

“Fine,” Katherine agreed, “But don’t think this means you get to drive my car all the time.”

Luke grinned as they packed up their things and left.

“I’m getting kinda tired of New York,” Katherine admitted as Luke drove.

“Really?” he questioned.

“Yeah… There’s just so much traffic. You hardly get to do anything.”

“I don’t get to see a whole lot of it,” Luke admitted. “There’s always a quest, or something.”

“You should just leave the camp,” she scoffed. “Live on your own.”

“No, I can’t. Besides. I think we need access to other demigods,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. He wants us to recruit,” Katherine agreed, “Which should be easy. I don’t think there’s anyone the gods haven’t fucked over.”

“Being born to one of them… It’s not the gift you would think it is,” he said, swallowing the pain he carried around with him. “The minute you have a god for a parent, you lose a parent. All of us are ignored our whole lives, until we’re punished when we fail, and just given a pat on the back when we do well.

“And everyone thinks this is just okay, because they’re gods. No one ever stops and says, none of this is okay. Everyone’s a hero, but no one wants to fight the bad guys. Because, like it or not, the bad guys are the ones who leave their kids to the wolves, and use people for entertainment,” he scowled.

“My mother says nothing is fair. That there’s always another shoe,” Katherine chuckled coldly. “But she’s the one who decides what’s fair,” she said softly.

“I remember when I first got to camp,” Luke thought. “I was fourteen. A friend almost died. We prayed and begged to our parents for help. All of us. Our friend, Thalia… she almost died. So Zeus turned her into a tree. Some fucking help. That day, I decided I’d never have to ask them for help again. I never wanted to have to ask anyone for help again.”

“You live on your own long enough, eventually that’s all you can do,” Katherine shrugged.

Breakfast, or lunch, given the time, was eaten very hastily as Katherine and Luke stopped at a restaurant on the way out of the state of New York.

“Hey. I have an idea I wanna run by you,” Luke said out of the blue.

“Hit me,” Katherine said as she ate.

Luke had something of a big question to ask, and despite having gone up against monsters and men with guns, he was still nervous.

“I was thinking, to make things easier for us, maybe you’d wanna… Live at the camp with me?” he invited her. “Full time?”

Immediately, he was already skeptical about her answer. He didn’t take it as a good thing when she initially met the question with silence, just thinking as she chewed.

“Why would I do that?” she asked.

The only response that came to mind for Luke was ‘uh oh’.

“Because… I want you to come with me,” he sighed, hoping this wouldn’t backfire.

“Why?”

He didn’t think this was going well so far.

“Because… I care about you?” he stated at her. “And I think it’d be cool if we could be together more often?” he offered expectantly.

Katherine Montalvo frowned for a moment, trying to come up with a suitable response.

“Luke,” she said, caught off guard.

“Katherine…”

“Let’s talk about this later,” she suggested.

“Why?” he looked at her inquisitively.

“Let’s just… Talk about it later,” she tried again.

“What?” he questioned worriedly, her avoidance putting him on edge. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Really? Cuz it kinda seems like it,” Luke stated. “Do you… not wanna come with me?”

“Come on. You seriously think we’re gonna be ‘girlfriend-boyfriend’?” she asked, laughing nervously as she tried to level.

“I mean… that’s the general idea, yes,” Luke said patiently. “That’s the impression I got.”

He had no idea what the problem was.

“Luke. Come on. This is you and me we’re talking about,” she stated flatly.

“Again. I know,” he stared, blue eyes widened.

“Luke, I like you, very much, but you have to realize there’s no way we can do that. There just isn’t,” Katherine rationalized.

“Why not?” he questioned.

“Because, look at our lifestyle!” she pointed out. “We hunt monsters! You’re gone half the time, I practically drive a new stolen car every month, and we could both be dead next week for all we know!”

“I’m not seeing a problem.”

“We both know our main goal is Kronos. We can’t let things get even more complicated than they already are.”

“How are they complicated?” Luke asked frustratedly.

“Because we both have a lot of shit to do if we’re gonna bring Kronos back, and take over the fucking world!” she exclaimed, not seeing how her point wasn’t coming across. “We can’t afford any distractions.”

“A distraction,” Luke stated, blankly staring at her in disbelief. “That’s what I am to you.”

Katherine looked at him across the table for a moment. Everything began to come together for her as she started to laugh for a second before stopping herself.

“Wow. Sorry. Uh, I didn’t think you were the type to get attached,” she admitted, trying to process.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘attached’?” he murmured, eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Dude. We fucked. Let’s not get carried away,” she laughed nervously.

Unfortunately, he misconstrued her awkwardness.

“Why are you talking like that all of a sudden?” he asked her, completely flabbergasted.

“Like what? I’m just trying to process what the fuck you just said to me.”

“Why are you being such an asshole?” Luke genuinely asked her.

Katherine gasped, laughing as she tried to contain her progressively escalating reactions. “Why are you being so confrontational?”

“Because you basically tell me you love me, and then we sleep together, and now you’re acting like we’re strangers,” he restated.

“I’m not acting like we’re strangers, you just think that us caring about each other and us sleeping together are relevant to one another, when really, they’re two separate things.”

Luke blinked at her profusely, trying to figure out how to proceed.

“You…” he stopped himself, beginning to feel warmer and warmer in the room. “You’re telling me that your feelings for me are completely platonic?”

Katherine frowned, a begrudging look on her face as she tried to explain. “No, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying, we don’t need to distract ourselves with that stuff.”

“What exactly did you think our relationship would be like?” he asked her angrily.

“Luke, I care about you. A lot. I do. And… I’m not gonna lie, you know what you’re doing when you lift your shirt up to wipe your hand off. But, those two things can’t mix. They just can’t… Things‘ll get messy, and someone will get hurt, physically.

“Love makes people stupid. It makes everyone stupid, no matter how smart they think they are. So I’m just trying to do both of us a favor, by keeping us in check so we both get what we want. It’s not personal. I trust you, with my life, and I have fun with you… You’re like my left hand. But that’s it. That’s all it can be.”

Luke was completely silent, fighting back tears and screams simultaneously.

“Fuck you,” he barely choked out, his eyes darkening as he sat forward, “Fuck you!”

Many heads turned in the restaurant, mostly older couples appalled by the exchange.

“What the fuck did I do?!” Katherine demanded, throwing her hands up.

“You’re such a fucking asshole for pretending like I’m just being stupid!” he thundered. “You’re a completely different person right now, and I hate it! You don’t even sound the same. You sound like a fucking male douchebag.”

“I’m not treating you like you’re stupid, I’m just trying to explain to you how this is better for us.”

“It’s better for us if you treat me like your left hand? Just use me when you get bored in bed, and then that’s it?” Luke scoffed.

Just about everyone was looking now.

“Quit making a scene,” she muttered under her breath.

Luke frowned, a completely deadpan expression on his face as he picked up the butter knife on the table, lightly tossing it at Katherine. She turned her head to avoid it, as it loudly clattered beside her on the ground. Her mouth dropped in disbelief as everyone around them began to stare in concern.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said through her teeth.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked provocatively.

“You’re acting like a fucking child,” Katherine frowned, “Seriously.”

“I am a child,” he shrugged, fully aware of his own stubbornness.

“You’re eighteen years old.”

“I’m a boy! We don’t mature as fast!”

Katherine frowned as she picked up her own knife, throwing it back at him. He scowled back at her, seeming to accept the challenge. This time, a waitress quietly approached their table, leaning down to avoid making an even bigger scene.

“Guys, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” the girl murmured, afraid of their reaction.

“I’m sorry. We’ll leave. Here,” Katherine quickly reached for her wallet, quickly pulling out a hundred-dollar bill and handing it to her. “Keep it.”

“Thank you,” the waitress whispered.

But before she could leave, Luke turned to her, looking irritated.

“Sorry, but we’re not leaving yet.”

Katherine stared daggers at him, fed up with his antics.

“Will you get a fucking grip?”

“Will you act like a person for two fucking seconds?” he said confrontationally.

“Guys,” the twenty-something year old waitress said awkwardly, “Please don’t make me get a manager…”

“I’ll handle it, babe,” Katherine assured her, embarrassed.

“I hate you,” Luke Castellan snarled.

“You think I like you right now?” she snapped back.

Both of their attention was diverted to an older woman, who must’ve been the manager.

“Excuse me, but you’ve been asked twice now to leave. If you both don’t leave the restaurant right now, we’re going to have to call the police,” she informed them, matter-of-fact.

“Oh. You want me to give you a reason to call them?” Luke asked, standing up as he drew his sword.

Katherine’s eyes widened with rage as he unsheathed his double-edged sword he’d named Backbiter, made of both Celestial bronze and steel. At the very least, Katherine remembered the mortals around them would be protected from the sight of the demigod weapon by the Mist.

“Kelsey, call 911,” the manager breathed, as everyone in the room slowly began to panic more and more.

“Luke! Don’t be a show-off!” Katherine barked.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Katherine,” he argued obstinately.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! This is what we’re doing now?”

They both completely ignored everything happening around them, as many restaurant patrons had already begun to pay their checks and leave before things got any worse. The entire restaurant staff was now focused on evacuating the restaurant, no longer concerned with speaking to Luke and Katherine at all.

“Well, you don’t wanna talk about us, so I guess there’s nothing left to talk about!” Luke smiled coldly, punching out an older guy who tried to take him out.

He hardly had to take his eyes off of her to do so. There was running and screaming all around them now; it was absolute chaos. Katherine knew that the police were already on their way, if not approaching, and she needed to get Luke to disappear with her as soon as possible.

“You’re being insane! This is not how we’re dealing with this. Get in the car, before you get us arrested.”

“‘Us’? There’s an ‘us’ now?” he crossed his arms.

“You know, I really dodged a fucking bullet,” Katherine Montalvo muttered, drawing her sword as she looked around carefully.

“Bullshit. You care about me,” he insisted, his eyes burning with anger as he looked at her.

Only once had she ever seen Luke that angry. The only time he’d ever come close to looking at her that way was when they fought about the deal she’d made with Ares, but even then, he’d had sympathy in his eyes. But this time, there was nothing but rage. Katherine knew she may as well have been Hermes.

“You care about me! You love me! You just don’t want to admit it. Because you think if you admit, I’ll stop doing what you say!” he yelled at her.

Instinctively, Katherine knew the right thing to do in that situation was to tell him that wasn’t true in order to plead with him to come with her, but in these moment, she couldn’t exactly comfort him.

“You think that if you lose the ‘I love you’ card, you won’t have any leverage over me!” Luke roared, tears falling from his eyes as he yelled at her. “But that’s not true!” he growled, his eyes reddening as veins seemed to be popping out of his head.

Katherine looked at him with cold, dead eyes as she tried to find something good in her, anything good.

“I will never be on anyone’s side but yours!” he screamed at her with resentment. “I don’t care about anyone else anymore. Not my mom, not the camp, not Kronos! It’s all about you! I’d kill for you, die for you, it doesn’t matter! As long as I’m by your side, I don’t care,” he sobbed.

Katherine bit her lip, looking down at the ground as the sirens outside grew louder and louder.

“You took everything from me! You took who I am, you took what I care about…! I don’t care about anyone who isn’t you. I’m in love with you, Katherine,” he breathed, his blue eyes wide with hurt. “I don’t know why, but I love you. And it consumes me, it’s made me into someone I don’t recognize! I’m a monster, because loving you has made me into a monster!” Luke roared, as the doors burst open.

At least six police officers burst into the room, yelling loudly as Luke tried to yell louder.

“Both of you! Put your hands above your head!”

Katherine’s head whipped around as she looked back at Luke, who still held Backbiter in his hand.

“I thought I’d end up dying for Kronos, but that’s not— That’s not true anymore. I don’t care about anything else anymore. Not the way I care about you. I’m gonna die for you,” Luke thundered. “I don’t care if it’s ten years from now, or today, but I wanna die for you!”

“Luke, no!” Katherine gasped, desperately flicking the cap off her lipstick tube to reveal her own spear.

“Drop your weapons, or we’ll shoot!”

Luke silently looked between the surrounding police officers and Katherine, already sure of what he wanted to do. Katherine looked into his eyes, expecting her expression to be full of anger and spite. But instead, she just pleaded silently, her dark eyes wide as she faced the danger like a deer in headlights.

The daughter of Nemesis and the son of Hermes stood tall as the police officers aimed guns at them, spraying them with a hail of bullets as they desperately slashed at them, fighting for their lives.

Chapter Eleven

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #pjo series #jake abel #pjo luke #rick riordan #riordanverse #riordan universe #adam milligan

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arachine · 2 years

Text

– 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

+ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x hybrid! fem! reader

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐜𝐰: dark content, hybrid!reader, reader w/ oral fixation, oral sex (m receiving), very tame face fucking, mentions of gagging & choking, female masturbation, cum swallowing, dacryphilia (kinda), biting, bunting (basically when cats mark you with their scent), explicit language, a little angsty but i swear i didn’t mean to !!

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was a request for kitty!reader having an oral fixation and how’d they prevent it but i got carried away and did my own thing…sorry (not really) + everyone pls thank my sweet baby angel @cocoamoonmalfoy for beta’ing this for me !! this shit was hot garbage before lol :3

+ 𝐰𝐜: 3.5k

+ 𝐝𝐭: my lovelies @snowflakeicicles @ringpop-poppy

trying to control your oral fixation was probably the most difficult thing they ever had to endure in their lives—apart from, you know, saving the world from man-eating monsters, battling evil scientists, and fighting crazy russians—but they still somehow managed to lessen the severity of it.

at first, when it was really bad, you’d nip at almost everything. clothes, shoes, the legs of a table, hands—fingers, especially fingers. those were your favorite to play with. it had gotten to the point where their hands would be absolutely littered in cuts and scratches, and it had become quite troublesome having to explain to their parents how they had gotten them.

so, that’s when they took it upon themselves to invest in some toys. they tried feathers, stuffed animals, fake mice, lasers, balls of yarn—but nothing seemed to ever work. eventually, they’d settle on just indulging you, coming up with more lies, more excuses, more nonsense to silence their parents’ ever-growing curiosity.

“you’re trouble, you know that?” mike scolds, running his fingers over your silky coat. you merely purr in response, the tip of your tail swaying side to side as you continue to suck, bite, and rough up his digits.

“thank god it’s steve’s turn tonight,” he throws his head back against the couch, “because i don’t think my hands can take anymore of this torture.”

“yeah, my mom thinks i’m getting into fights,” dustin pipes, “i mean come on, look at this face. does this look like the kinda face to be getting into fights?”

that’s right, it was steve’s turn today. your favorite chew toy, how could you forget? your mind wanders back to the last time you stayed at his house. how you’d played, slept, cuddled—kissed…and how he’d let you nip and suck on other places, too. just thinking about it was enough to trigger your human form, skin and flesh appearing in mike’s lap.

“mike, mike, when will steve be here!?” you beam, pouncing on his chest. unintentionally, you pierces him with the tip of your claws, the excitement of seeing steve rendering your brain to complete and utter mush.

“jesus, you just poked me,” the boy rubs his chest, “and why are you so excited to see him anyway?” there’s a beat. silence. it was a simple question, actually. could be answered with a ‘no reason’ or a ‘just excited ’s all’—but you choke, and mike finds this strange. odd. he takes notice of the way you avoid meeting his eyes, a tell-tale sign that you were hiding something, but before he can ask about it, heavy feet make their way down the stairs.

“hey, guys.” everyone averts their attention to where the voice is coming from, a chorus of tepid ‘hey’s filling the room.

there it was, that familiar scent. the one that belonged to…

“steve!” you leap from mike’s lap to embrace the brunet, wrapping the length of your legs around his torso. his hands settle on the curve of your lower back, and he smooths over the area soothingly, a soft expression gracing his face.

“ready to go?” you nod enthusiastically, ears shooting up with a quick flutter.

“alright, you know the drill,” steve points to his backpack, gesturing for you to transform and slip inside.

the drive to steve’s is quiet. and it’s even quieter as the two of you trek and traverse through the house and up the stairs to his room. the only time there’s anything but silence is when steve utters a ‘watch your step’, followed by the eerie sound of the wooden floorboards creaking and cracking under weight.

“just us?” you query, falling into step behind him as you enter his bedroom. the door creates a faint draft, and immediately, your nose is flooded with his scent—it’s strong, intense, pleasant. you can smell him everywhere.

“yeahhh, just us.”

nobody’s home, just like all the other times. you never really poked or prodded, but kind of gathered that this wasn’t unusual for him growing up. coming to his house was always a drastic change in environment, it was just so much different than all the others—which was probably because they were kids, and had siblings of their own, and parents who liked them. silence and tranquility was not something they had the privilege of knowing.

steve didn’t mind it, though. actually, he preferred it. with his dad frequently away for work, and his mother accompanying him, it more often than not, left him with an empty house—an empty house that provided him ample opportunity to do whatever the hell he wanted…which sometimes allowed for drinking, throwing parties, and well, bringing home girls. but more specifically, bringing home you.

“blew out the main light, so it’s a little dark in here, sorry about that,” his fingers point up. he ambles over to his desk to turn on the lamp sitting atop it. it’s tiny and only illuminates a portion of the room, but it’s enough to just barely make out the wanes and curves of his face.

your eyes follow him intently as he moves from one corner of the room to another, a piece of his uniform falling to the floor with every step, creating a trail towards his dresser. he’d always changed in front of you, never thought anything about it. and you never thought anything about it either—that is, until recently.

steve had always been just steve. the one who doted on you, the one who tended to your wounds, the one who dedicated almost (if not all) of his time to ensure that you were well and taken care of. but now? now it was different, and you couldn’t quite articulate why.

bare skin was just skin, and limbs were just limbs, but the sight of steve’s chest and abdomen perfectly outlined by the golden dim of the light, was making your stomach all knotted up. it felt like the feeling you got when you played with the others; when you laughed, and cuddled, and kissed them—but it was more intense, scary. in the way that you’d hoped he only ever did this with you—and no one else.

“what is it?” he raises a suspicious brow. you don’t answer. instead, you let your feet trudge across the carpeted floor until you stand in front of him, until you’re so close, he can feel the heat of your breath fan his face.

you stand there, studying him, trailing your claws lightly over the places his abs concave and dip. he doesn’t know what you’re doing at first, just gazes down to where you stand before him, a look of perplexity etched into the crinkles between his brows.

your hand wanders lower, and the boy releases a deep exhale through his nose. you can hear the pace of his heart quicken as you run your fingers through the trail of hair that starts at his navel and disappears under his briefs. experimentally, you ghost your hand over the bulge in his underwear, looking up to him with inquisitive eyes before placing a firm palm on his front.

he swallows thickly this time, holds the spit in the cavity of his throat, and it burns as it trickles down. you had not the slightest clue what you did to him—the effect you had on people. he wonders if you think this is a game, if the things you do when you’re alone are fully of your own volition—if you actually feel the way he does. and you have to, right? a part of him wants to believe it, that your heart beats for him the way his does for you.

“stevie…” his heart squeezes, and his eyes soften. god, you were the very incarnation of calamity, the thing that started wars and killed many a men.

“yeah?” his voice is breathy, wanting. his eyes flicker across the expanse of your face, stopping briefly to glance down at your lips, then back up to your eyes.

letting your impatience guide you, you pull him down by the shoulders and kiss him. it’s unrhythmic, inexperienced, and wet but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he melts into it. lets you explore his mouth, and peck at the plush of his lips. lets you taste him with your tongue, and run your teeth over the crevice of his neck, watching with bated breath as you go down, down, down…

“slow down there, kitty,” steve jests, “what’s the rush?”

what’s the rush? doesn’t he know that you waited all day for him? to play with him, touch him—taste him? to see him twitch and writhe as you work him with your hands, tongue, and mouth? to hear him call you a good girl—his pretty girl?

“been waiting for you all day, stevie,” you confess, rubbing your cheek against his crotch. it’s so warm, you can practically feel the heat seeping through the fabric of his briefs, and the groan that emits from his throat makes your ears flutter. you wanna hear it again, and again, and...

“all day, hm?”

“all day, everyday. you’re all i think about,” your hands find the elastic of his briefs, “my favorite chew toy.”

steve scoffs at this, because of fucking course. how could he ever be so stupid to believe that you felt the same way he did? he has half a mind to pull you off of him and let all of this, whatever this was, end here. but the other half wants to continue, wants to see the tears stream from your eyes and coalesce at the base of your chin because he’s too big—too much. he wants to be selfish, wants to hear the sounds you make when you choke and gag around the thickness of his cock, feelings be damned.

“figured as much…hey, we should—you should stop,” his hand reaches to push you away but your tail wraps around his wrist, halting his movements.

“no!” a beat. a transient silence that feels almost deafening, just eyes staring back into eyes, hearts thumping unruly. he’s taken aback by your outburst, doesn’t seem to catch the glass-like droplet ribboning down the fat of your cheek.

your eyes depart from his face and fix themselves on the floor, ears following not too far behind with a sad flop. he only picks up on your dejection when you open your mouth to speak and the words come out in a tremble.

“’s not like that…you…you’re different. this is different,” you confess, “you make my stomach feel fuzzy and my head all dizzy! ’s not like that with the others…” the brunet doesn’t know what to say; actually, he does, he’d been fantasizing about this day for as long as he could remember, but the words leave him the second you tilt your head up jut those pretty little lips. he wants to kiss the pout off of you.

“really?”

“mhm, you’re special t’me, stevie. i wanna show you.” your fingers hook under the elastic of his underwear, and you pull it down teasingly, eyeing him as you take the flesh into your hand. “can i…?”

“fuck, yeah, yeah. ’s all yours.”

with a purr, you lean forward and leave a soft kiss on the tip of his cock, flicking your tongue over the spot before taking him into the heat of your mouth. you love this, you think. love seeing the expressions you can pull from him, love seeing how pliant he becomes in the palm of your hand, and the honey sweet praises he mutters only for you. it makes you feel useful, to be able to make him feel good, and take care of him like all the countless times he’s taken care of you.

you’d been waiting to hear these sounds all week, the sharp intakes of breath, the heavy breathing, the drawn groans and expletives. so much so, that you’d find your hands wandering down into your pajama shorts many a nights, thoughts of the boy before you, and how it’d feel for his hands, mouth, fingers to be on you—and how it’d feel for his fingers to stuff your little cunt full.

yeah, you’d spent many nights like that in the dark of mike’s basement, sweaty and fucked out as you brought yourself to climax over, and over, and over. the thought alone had your panties sodden with slick, and you could feel it begin to pool and settle. you were so unbearably wet, so touch-starved, you needed to feel some sort of relief. and right now, your hand was the closest thing to provide that.

steve watches with wide eyes as your fingers dip down the waistband of your skirt, and into the confines of your panties. the tips of your digits roll the nub of flesh first, then gather at your core before sheathing themselves inside. a series of moans vacate your throat and vibrate around him, coaxing him to press a firm hand to the back of your head. teasingly, you do it again, humming beguilingly to get him to replicate the reaction.

“shit,” he drawls, placing emphasis on the ’t’, “feels so good, kitty.” your tail wiggles in response to the honest adulation, and so, you take him deeper, using the back of his thighs to force yourself down.

he’s big. thick. and the stretch that comes along with taking him in your mouth is always a plaguing reminder. but you don’t mind it too much, you like when he’s all deep down there, and you can feel the tip of him hot and heavy in the back of your throat. it always makes you gag, and choke, and sometimes your eyes get too cloudy with tears to the point you can’t see, but it’s worth it. it’s worth it because every time, without fail, he calls you—

“good girl.” that. he calls you that. his ‘good girl’, not ‘kitty’ or ‘good kitty’—but girl. makes you feel all high and mighty, like you’re one of the others, like he sees you as something else other than just a hybrid that he’s been saddled with the burden of caring for. you know he loves you, at least you think he does. he hasn’t right out said it, but judging by his disposition earlier, you couldn’t be too far off.

you keep your nose pressed into the skin of his pelvis until you physically can’t, pulling off of him with a loud pop. your cheek is wet with tears, and your chin is slick with spit, the two coalescing at the apex into a sticky mess.

the sight makes him twitch in your hand, because this is what he’s been thinking about all day. this was his selfish wish, to see you below him with this expression. eyes all doe-eyed and desperate, hands still working yourself to orgasm. he can’t help but to reach out and rub the callused pad of his thumb over your parting lips, pressing the salty digit flat against your tongue, and retreating it in the same breath to hook it around your cheek. he adores you.

“i lo—“ a pause, hesitance. your ears perk up. “you’re so pretty, y'know that?”

oh. you feel like a dagger dipped in poison just punctured your heart and cut it into smithereens. it hurts, terribly so, but you brush the disappointment off of your face before he can notice and reacquaint yourself with his cock, stroking the length of him languidly, then increasing your pace, going back and forth between the two speeds.

even if he doesn’t say it, those three silly words, the ones you so desperately want him to say—to you and no one else—you think you’ll be fine. all you care about in the moment is making him feel good, making sure that your spot as his girl, his good girl, is solidified and impenetrable. that when another girl goes down on him, they taste you. smell you.

“wanna taste you, mmf. gimme something, stevie.” your eyes flicker up to his, hand still pumping slowly inside your kitten cunt, jaw slack and waiting. fuck, you were so unbelievable. such a sweet little thing, but if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were one of those high school sluts he brought in and out of here during his ‘king of hawkins’ phase.

“jesus, lemme use ya,” he hisses, hands already coming down to rest on the sides of your head. “can i?” you nod your head, relaxing the column of your throat so that he can slip in and out with ease. the first thrust is experimental, slow. like he’s testing the waters. then, he does it again, pulls all the way out until only the mushroomy head of his cock is sheathed inside.

all you can do is kneel there, breathe in and out through your nose while he builds up a steady rhythm. he decides now that he’s never gonna fuck another girl after you. because how could he? you were his, mouth molded only for him. heart beating only for him.

nothing or nobody could ever compare after you, and he wishes he could boast to the world about how good you are for him, and how much he loves you, but he could never do that, not without consequences. he wants to keep you all to himself, away from evil, and anyone who’d ever inflict harm onto you.

a string of profanities leave his lips. he’s close, and you can tell by the way he begins to fuck into your face with unparalleled ferocity. to guide him there, you begin to hollow your cheeks and narrow your throat, using a single hand to massage and pet his balls.

yeah, he was gonna cum, could practically feel the white hot liquid traveling up from his balls and to his shaft. he can feel you start to get antsy, and when you start to scratch and claw at his thighs for air, that does it for him. with a final, lazy thrust, he releases the entirety of his load down your throat, keeping you pressed down on him until he’s sure every last drop has been emptied into your mouth.

you push off of him so that you can swallow it down properly. it’s thick, and much warmer than what you can remember from last time, but swallow it. and when you do, a proud, cheshire grin creeps onto your face. before you stand up, you kiss the inside of his thigh, then bite down onto it, leaving a mark. a reminder.

“i love you.” steve’s mouth moves on its own accord. and at first, he’s not even sure if he said it, but then he sees your little ears flutter, signaling that you did, in fact, hear his untimely confession of love. panic starts to set in, but then you rise from your knees and pounce on him, the two of you stumbling back into his unmade bed.

“say it again, stevie,” the pupils of your eyes widen into saucers, tail swaying side to side as you hold your breath in pure, unfettered anticipation.

“i love you, kitty. and not in that way.” he starts, choosing his words carefully, “…in the way that nance and jonathan love each other, and hopper and joyce. understand?”

your lips part to speak, to reciprocate his feelings, but your excitement is so uncontrollable that you end up biting down into his shoulder. the boy soothes the affliction and mouths an ow before breaking into a fit of laughter.

“not sure what to make of that, is it something good?” steve smirks coyly.

“yeah, ’s good,” your head finds solace in the barrow of his neck. “i…i love you, too. always have. meant it when i said you’re special to me, stevie.”

for a brief second, time seems to stand still, and the only way steve knows how to respond is with a kiss. a slow, passionate, sweet kiss that he pours the pining, desperation and patience of two years into, just hoping that you receive the message.

and you do. loud and clear. you rub the skin of your neck against his, and you do it until every last pore on body is touched by your scent. until you can’t smell him from you, and you from him.

“what’re you doing,” he chuckles, encasing you into a bear hug.

“’s nothing, don’t worry about it!” you lie, but he knows. you left your mark. he was yours, and you were his.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x black reader #steve harrington x black reader smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things smut #dark.content

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evangelineshifts · 3 months

Text

OH MY GODS, YOU’RE RUTHLESS

Pairings: book!percy jackson x black!fem!reader

Word count: 5.3k (oops?)

Warnings: angst, mentions of death (literally in the underworld :/), hades being a dick (SORRY I LOVE YOU HADES), swearing (like one word), mentions of throwing up, pet names (angel, sweet girl, little dove)

a/n: this is kinda my first fic (?) so be kind! This is completely self indulgent as it’s literally a scenario for my desired reality so keep that in mind. If you want some back story visit my dr list on my pinned post! Have fun, stay super freaky, have great vagina I LOVE YAAA

I never considered the Gods to be enemies to myself. Of course, I could understand where the animosity the other kids held towards them came from, I just couldn’t find it in myself to share it.

I’ve always seen myself as quite the lover and I’ve always known that it was my undoing. Holding out till the very last minute to toss out hope for redemption. I’ll love until the ability is carved out of my sternum.

I hate it.

The pain that comes with being such a tender-hearted individual is nefarious. But that recurring pain that plagues the minds and souls of those who are cursed to live a life of love and loss is what tortures the poets; and makes for a dam good book.

I hope to be able to transfer my heart from sleeve to page one day. But for now, I’m forced to keep dwelling on the feeling of dread and despair as I march my way through the dreary entrance hall of Hades’ palace.

Truth be told it’s not that dreary, it’s incredibly well-decorated. I'm just determined to be a hater. After fighting monsters, dealing with death traps, and arguing with temperamental Gods, I'm ready for the quest to be over and done with. It’s not as glorious as everyone made it out to be.

I looked over at Percy as the four of us reached the big set of doors at the end of the hall. He looked to be struggling with the weight of his backpack but I couldn’t understand why. Unless Oreos had suddenly gained weight in the day or two that it took us to get here he should be just fine. He wasn’t that scrawny.

“Well, guys,” Percy said. “I suppose we should… knock?”

As if on cue, a hot wind blew down the corridor and swung open.

“I guess that means entrez-vous,” Annabeth said in an exaggerated French accent. I giggled at her pronunciation and she sent me a playful glare as we all tentatively walked into the room.

"You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," Hades said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish. And you legacy child, well, I expected better of you.” He seemed almost saddened as he uttered the last line.

My three quest mates looked over at me with varying levels of confusion plastered on their faces, I had half a mind to shrug bemusedly as I tried not to show my growing guilt so plainly on my face. What did I have to feel guilty for? Why did I care what Hades thought?

Percy stared at me a few seconds longer before facing the god again with renewed vigor, “Lord and uncle, I come with two requests”

Hades looked toward me and lifted his eyebrows in a “Is he serious???” sort of way but truth be told, I was too in awe of Percy's sudden diplomacy to give him a reaction. I fully expected him to at least glare at him but maybe I underestimated his desire to get his mom back. Hades leaned forward on his throne, a subtle incredulity painted on his sculpted face,

"Only two requests?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

Spoken like a true older sibling. Christ.

I looked over at Percy in time to see his throat bob with trepidation. My heart gives a twinge of empathy, poor kid has only been in this life for a little over a month and he's already facing the god of the dead.

“Lord Hades… Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be…bad.” smooth, fish sticks.

“Really bad,” Even smoother Grover, thank you.

Annabeth and I share an exasperated look as I think over every action I've ever made in my life to land me here.

“Return Zeus’s master bolt to me,” Percy pleaded. “Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus.”

Looking at Hades I'm getting the feeling that was not the right thing to say. His eyes grew glaringly bright as his face crumpled in anger,

“You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?” He spat.

I'm getting sick of the vague accusations thrown at us, “Percy hasn't done anything. I don't know if you’ve noticed but he's very new to this whole thing. I mean look at him, he's like a baby fawn,”

Percy looked mildly offended but he looked more concerned at the fact that I was practically mouthing off at an already very angry god.

Hades fixed me with a furious glare and I was sure I was sure I was going to be smoted. But then he did the strangest thing, he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath and when he opened them again the rage that had previously engulfed his irises seemed to lessen. Only a tad but it's still strange.

“Do you think I want war, child?” He said in an eerily calm manner.

I looked at the others utterly perplexed and when my gaze landed on Percy I had to fix him with a warning glare just to be sure he didn't try to be a wise guy at the wrong time. The last thing we needed was for fish Jesus to be filleted.

“My lord, I’m afraid I don’t understand. Wouldn’t a war expand your kingdom?” I said carefully.

His eyes widen a tad as he look on with absolute disbelief and frustration, “Did my brothers tell you that?? Fucking typical. Do you think I need more subjects?! Did you not see the sprawl of the asphodel fields??” Hades said, his voice risen an octave.

I hesitated to reply but I found I didn’t need to as Hades took it upon himself to continue his rant, "Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?"

Percy opened his mouth to respond, but Hades was on a roll.

"More security ghouls," he moaned. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavillon. Double overtime for the staff and the mortals just. keep. dying. You know, I used to be a rich god, godling. I control all precious metals under the earth. But my expenses!”

I was suddenly overcome with the fear that I was gonna have to comfort this emo god on his economic problems. And then Percy spoke and I was saved, “Charon wants a pay raise,” He blurted. I just had to laugh.

Hades went on to gripe about Charon and his troublesome discovery of Italian suits. He insisted that a war is the last thing he wanted and I wish I could say I was surprised.

“But you took Zeus' master bolt.” Percy said.

"Lies!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne, towering to the height of a football goal post. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not so stupid. I see his plan."

"His plan?" I questioned.

"He was the thief on the winter solstice," Hades said. "His father thought to keep him his little secret. He directed him into the throne room on Olympus,”

Before I could even open my mouth to object and say that I was at the winter solstice and Percy wasn’t even a member at camp yet, Hades steamrolled on,

“You took the master bolt and my helm. Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at Yancy Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will be exposed as Poseidon's thief, and I will have my helm”

"But..." Annabeth spoke. I could tell her mind was going a million miles an hour. "Lord Hades, your helm of darkness is missing, too?"

"Do not play innocent with me, girl. You and the satyr have been helping this hero-coming here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt-to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him? And you girl!" He directed his attention back to me and I was left to wonder what was so special about me that he felt the need to keep addressing me individually.

“This betrayal is disappointing but not unseen. I would think you would know better.” He glared heatedly at me, apparently abandoning his attempts at civility.

"No!" Percy said. "Poseidon didn't-I didn't- (y/n/n) had nothing to do with this- none of us did!"

"I have said nothing of the helm's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

"You didn't try to stop us? But-" None of what he was saying was making any sense. Not according to what we knew anyway. Did we really know anything?

"Return my helm now, or I will stop death," Hades threatened. "That is my counter proposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Percy Jackson-your skeleton will lead my army out of Hades."

The skeletal soldiers all took one step forward, making their weapons.

At this point the smart thing was to probably be scared out of my mind, but with Hades threatening Percy, fear seemed to be the last of my worries. This boy who I had made fast friends with in the short time that I’d known him. The boy who had lost his mom and his old life all within five minutes and was just expected to be okay with it. Percy Jackson, the dork who watched teen titans with me during the uncharacteristic storm at camp and convinced me to make blue Shirley temples. My very own guppy.

Yeah me and Hades were gonna have words.

“Stop this, now.” I said in my sternest voice. Hades halted and looked at me with intrigue and… slight fear?

“He didn’t steal anything, Hades, enough with the unfounded claims. We didn’t even know your helm was missing until 2 minutes ago and up until then we thought you had the bolt.”

The other 3 went stock still with shock. I’m guessing they were saying their goodbyes to me in their heads but I’m not one to go down that easily. Even if I did want to cry from the confrontation.

Hades looked at me with unbridled fury but when he spoke you would’ve thought he was simply telling me not to steal from the cookie jar again,

“I have tried to be kind to you child. I have tried to treat you with respect as you have done for me in the past but your foolishness and insolence will be your undoing.” He paused for a moment seemingly cherry picking his next words, “What would your mothers think? Hm? How would they fare if they learned of your impertinence?”

I froze. My blood ran cold and my stomach was churning something awful.

“….what?” I said, trying my hardest to steady my voice but it was a lost cause at this point. Grover and Annabeth looked on with pity that could shrink me with a glance but Percy? Percy looked furious. He glared at the god with the fury of a thousand suns,

“Don’t talk about her mothers, leave them out of this- leave her out of this. This is between me and you-“

“SILENCE!” Hades bellowed, as the throne room shook but Percy didn’t even flinch. “You have said quite enough godling.” He spat out the word like poison on his tongue.

Hades turned back to me, a new smugness hidden in the depths of his eyes, “How about we see what they would think? Would you like that legacy child? Would you like to see your parents?” His lip curled in a smirk.

I could’ve thrown up at the thought. What did he mean? Surely he wasn’t going to bring them here? My head was like a circuit, thoughts lapping around my brain like race cars. In my periphery, I could see Percy physically shaking with rage. Grover and Annabeth looked like they wanted to reach out for me but thought better of it, fearing Hades’ next move.

Hades surveyed all of us, taking in the horrified silence as he grinned almost sinisterly. He lifted a hand to the far left wall of a throne room and the surface of it rippled like a disrupted pool.

All of a sudden colors and shapes flew into the frame and found a place on the wall. Almost as soon as it started an image came into focus. A dining room with light pink walls filled with pictures and portraits of hand painted flowers. Most of the pictures were of one woman, a ginger with deep brown skin, gorgeous amber eyes, and a blinding smile. She looked like the personification of the earth and everything good. She looked warm, safe.

In some pictures she was joined by another woman, a more stern looking one but beautiful nonetheless with her honey blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes a stark contrast to her tawny skin. She held a smaller smile than her auburn counterpart but it was no less happy. The way they looked at each other in some photos was almost baffling. I didn’t know you could capture such tangible emotion on camera but they made it happen.

As for the portraits, I would’ve guessed the paintings were professionally made if it wasn’t for the cute little smiley faces and hearts surrounding the flowers in almost every portrait. They were mature and yet so childlike at the same time. Precise strokes coming together to form stunning flowers of bright color. Lilies, gardenias, and orchids filled every frame. It was captivating how real they looked. I could’ve stared at them all day but my attention was drawn toward the dark oak table as a giggle erupted from one of the occupants.

My heart sank.

The same woman in the photos sat at the table seemingly working on another floral piece. My breathing quickened as I put the pieces together. As I stared at the ginger woman’s dimpled smile and traced the slope of the blonde's nose it clicked.

These were my moms.

The women who died when I was just a baby in an effort to protect me. And they succeeded but at what cost?

I ran over to the wall ignoring the calls of my worried friends. Tears clouded my vision as I tried to push all the words I wanted to say past the lump cemented in my throat.

“Mamma?” I said timidly, worried this was an illusion or they wouldn’t be able to hear me.

All of that faded away when the bubbly lady whipped her head around at the sound of my voice and her lover not far behind.

“(Y/N)…?” She called, voiced thickly coated in awe.

The dam broke.

Tear rushed down my face faster than I could process as I nearly yelled out for my mothers, “Mamma! Ma!”

They came rushing over to where I was and knelt down at what I’m assuming was a projected image of me to wherever they were, “Baby angel! What are you doing here??” My mamma, who I’ve deduced is the child of Artemis, Davina, wailed as she went to reach out for me before retracting her hand. Probably figured the image would fade if she did and I’m grateful for that.

“You shouldn’t be here little dove, it’s not your time you must go home.” My Ma, Alexandra, said. A crease firmly placed between her brows that contradicted the wobbling smile that was growing on her lips.

They looked at me with a type of adoration that had my knees wracking. This is the type of maternal affection I thought I would never get to receive in my life. Of course, I had Aunt Go-go but that wasn’t the same.

Before I could respond Hades cut me off, “We can get to all the loving pleasantries in a moment. We have more important matters at hand. Your daughter has aided a thief.”

I glanced at him quickly before I quickly tried to defend myself, adamantly denying his claims.

“He’s lying! She didn’t steal anything and neither did I!” Percy erupted, his stare burning into the god's own, “"You're as bad as Zeus, you think I stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after me?"

I drowned out the rest of what they were saying as I could only focus on the fact that my parents were looking me in my eyes, “We believe your friend, angel. We know our sweet girl would never do anything to cause harm.” Mamma told me as she looked on with kind eyes. “You’ve gotten so big! I remember when you were just a little raisin”

We shared a watery chuckle as I tried not to bawl my eyes out.

“She’s got your eyes,” Alexandra said fondly as she looked between her daughter and her wife.

“And your nose,” Davina giggled, “What a gorgeous girl you’ve grown into.”

“Thank you,” I managed as I felt my face heat up, “Are you guys in Elysium? Could I come see you?” I said hopefully.

They both glanced at each other warily and I felt dread pool in my stomach. I whipped around to face Hades as the words tumbled out of my mouth, “I need to see them! Please let me see them, I’ll do anything” I begged.

“Anything?” I nodded fervently as the trio voiced their protests, “Return my property and I’ll allow you a visit with your mothers!”

I choked out a sob as I looked helplessly at the others, “We-we don’t have it. I swear, I swear we don’t have it! We came here for the master bolt. They-they told us you had the master bolt, that’s why we’re here. Please I’m begging you, just let me see my moms” I rushed out, desperately trying to convince him of mercy.

“ENOUGH WITH YOUR FALSITIES GODLING!” I flinched back at his booming voice, the throne room walls rumbling and the image of my parents warbling. I panicked. “You already possess the master bolt, you came here with it, you insolent fool. You think you can try to deceive me?!”

I’m reduced to wails and gargled pleads as I try to bargain with this clearly unhinged man, “Please I don’t know, I don’t know. P-Percy tell him, please tell him, please”

“We didn’t steal the bolt! We’ve already told you-“

“Then open your pack!”

I looked at Percy in desperate confusion as his face fell. I can practically sense his panic as he slung his bad off his shoulder and unzipped it. Time stopped.

Inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy. I could’ve fallen to my knees right there. I turned back to my mothers begging for them to understand. This was one of the worst realizations I’d ever made. We’d been framed.

'Percy," Annabeth said. "How-"

"I-I don't know. I don't understand." He said, his gaze flickered towards me as a tortured sound ripped from my throat.

"You heroes are always the same," Hades said. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. And now ... my helm. Where is it?"

I was speechless. Percy was speechless. Annabeth was speechless, and I’m quite sure Grover passed out like 5 minutes ago. We had no helm. The world turned sideways and I didn’t deal well with vertigo.

"Lord Hades, wait," Percy said. "This is all a mistake."

"A mistake?" Hades roared. Quicker than I could process Hades lifted his hand and the image of my parents faded before my eyes.

Oh my gods.

“No- no, no, no, no, no, no, NO,” I gut-wrenching scream pierced through the air as I tried to conjure up the image again uselessly, “NO BRING THEM BACK, GODS, PLEASE BRING THEM BACK HADES PLEASE!” He didn’t even spare me a glance as Annabeth ran over to hold me back from slamming my fist into the stone. My fingernails were reduced to stubs as I clawed at the wall like my mother was going to be standing behind it waiting for me. I was wailing, calling out for my mommies. Usually I would scold myself for such a display of weakness at a time like this but at the moment all sense of self control was out of the question. I was inconsolable as Annabeth tried calming me down, cooing soft assurances in my ear that I couldn’t hear over my own gasping.

The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings, and the three Furies swooped down to perch on

the back of their masters throne.

"There is no mistake," Hades said. "I know why you have come- I know the real reason you brought the bolt. You came to bargain for her."

Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of Percy, and there was who I could only assume was his mother, frozen in a shower of gold.

In my panicked state at the renewed loss of mothers, I had almost forgotten about his.

"Yes," Hades said with satisfaction. "I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helm, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know. Not yet. But if you displease me, that will change."

Someone, or something, was growling. I think It was me. I was so angry. He already took my mothers away, he wasn’t about to take Percy’s.

I went to charge for him when I realized Annie was still holding on to me. I struggled against her hold as she dug her heels into the ground.

"Ah, the pearls," Hades said, and my blood froze. "Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson."

Percy’s hand moved and brought out the pearls.

"Only four," Hades said. "What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. Try to take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms." Percy looked at me and Annabeth and then Grover.

"We were tricked," He said. "Set up.”

“No shit,” I muttered bitterly, tears still tracking down my face.

"Yes, but why?" Annabeth asked, as she side eyed me. "And the voice in the pit-"

"I don't know yet," Percy said. "But I intend to ask."

"Decide, boy!" Hades yelled.

"Percy." Grover put his hand on Percy’s shoulder. "You can't give him the bolt,"

"I know that." He replied, though his stare was focused on me.

"Leave me here," Grover said. "Use the fourth pearl on your mom."

"No!" Percy exclaimed, his eyes darting towards the satyr.

"I'm a satyr," Grover said. "We don't have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won't get me forever. I'll just be reincarnated as a flower or something. It's the best way."

"No." Annabeth drew her bronze knife, finally letting go of me and I returned back to the wall trying to see if there was some sort of passageway. "You three go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy and (y/n/n). You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting."

"No way," Grover said. "I'm staying behind."

"Think again, goat boy," Annabeth said.

"Stop it, both of you!" Percy yelled, and the two quieted.

I realized I had been silent through this whole ordeal and knew what I had to do.

“I’ll stay.” I croaked.

“What?!” Percy said, his head turning faster than I could process. “Absolutely not.”

“Percy-“

“No.” He strided over to me so he could look me in the eyes, “I’m not leaving here without you,”

“You don’t get it!” I exclaimed, on the verge of collapse. Gods, I’ve never been so tired. I’ve never done this. I know the stakes. I know how serious this is. But still, at the end of the day, I’m just a little girl who had gone her whole life without parents. Never knowing their faces or voices. Just to meet them and have them taken away within the same hour.

“What don’t I get (Y/N)? Hm?” Percy said frustratedly as he grappled my shoulders. I know he didn’t mean to be harsh but I couldn’t help getting upset.

“I want to stay here, Percy.” I said defeatedly, looking up at him through my lashes. “I ha-have to meet them. I just have to. Please just let me stay here. I need to stay, just let me stay,” I begged him, grasping at his arms to let me go.

He looked at me with a devastating amount of empathy that I couldn’t help breaking down again. He pulled me into a one armed hug as he turned towards Annabeth and Grover,

"I know what to do," Percy said. "Take these."

He handed them each a pearl.

Annabeth said, "But, Percy ..."

I was rambling incoherently into his shoulder, begging him to leave me there. He took my face into his hands and forced me to look him in the eyes,

“Hey-hey! Look at me!” I did, “I know.” And by the gods, I knew that he did. My knees went weak as he pulled me back in and held on to the back of my head as he wrapped an arm around my waist, “I’ll get you back here one day, ang-” he paused, realizing his mistake but continued on, “Even if I have to breakdown the doors of Olympus myself and force them to make it happen, you will see your moms again. Okay?”

I hesitated for a breath before I nodded reluctantly. There’s nothing else I could do.

Percy held me in his arms as he turned his head and faced his mother.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I'll be back. I'll find a way."

The smug look on Hades's face faded. He said, "Godling ... ?"

"I'll find your helm, Uncle," he told him. Again with this uncle thing. "I'll return it. Remember about

Charon's pay raise."

"Do not defy me-" Hades tried.

"And it wouldn't hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls."

"Percy Jackson, you will not-"

Percy shouted, "Now, guys!"

He smashed the pearls at our feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened.

Hades yelled, "Destroy them!"

The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame.

Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl fragments at our feet exploded with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind.

We were encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground. My head was still buried in Percy’s shoulder, sobs racked my body as we floated up, Annabeth and Grover were right behind us.

Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and I knew it was not going to be a peaceful night in L.A but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

"Look up." Grover yelled. "We're going to crash!"

Sure enough, we were racing right toward the stalactites, which I figured would pop our bubbles and skewer us.

"How do you control these things?" Annabeth shouted.

"I don't think you do!" Percy shouted back.

Is it bad that I kinda wanted to be skewered? Stop.

The trio screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and ... Darkness.

No, I could still feel the racing sensation. We were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water.

That was the power of the pearls, I realized- What belongs to the sea will always return to the sea.

For a few moments, I couldn't see anything outside the smooth walls of our sphere, then our pearl broke through on the ocean floor.

The two other milky spheres, Annabeth and Grover, kept pace with us as we soared upward through the water.

We exploded on the surface, in the middle of the Santa Monica Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, "Dude!" I wanted to hit him.

Percy grabbed Grover and hauled him over to a life buoy. I caught Annabeth and dragged her over too.

A curious shark was circling us, a great white about eleven feet long. Maybe I’d get my soul surfer moment. Stop it.

Percy said, "Beat it." And the shark turned and raced away. New Yorkers.

The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from us as fast as he could.

Somehow, I knew what time it was: early morning, June 21, the day of the summer solstice.

In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades's fault. He was probably sending an army of the dead after us right now.

But at the moment, the Underworld wasn't my biggest problem.

Annabeth and Grover shared a glance as they muttered something about getting a headstart to shore. Percy and I were still treading water as he analyzed me.

“What?” I snapped. I can’t say I didn’t mean to but I did feel bad.

“I’m sorry.” He said and my face softened. “It’s not your fault, nothing you could do.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile but I’m sure it looked more like a grimace.

He was starting to gain a real habit of hugging me as he pulled me into his chest. I couldn't tell the difference between the saltwater and saline on my face anymore.

He didn’t say anything, just sort of awkwardly petted my hair. He pulled away to look me in the eyes and some sort of understanding passed between us.

I gave him a nod and gestured for him to catch up with the others. He looked hesitant for a second but ultimately nodded and swam to the duo who were treading just a little ways away.

I looked down at the water as if I’d be able to see the underworld below my feet. I gave a kiss to my fingers and swirled them in the water in the shape of a flower, “I’m sorry Mamma, Ma. I’ll come back for you.”

I start to slowly make my way towards the others thinking over everything that just went down. I realized with a sharp ache in my chest, that I felt more despair than I did hatred when thinking of Hades. I wanted to despise him. To think that he was evil and want to plot some sort of revenge. But I couldn’t. Somehow that was worse.

He was uncaring in his dealings with us. I knew his intentions with the words he spoke to me, burning a hole through my chest till I was left spiraling searching for some sort of reprieve. And yet compassion still had a hold on me. I felt sorry for him but oh my gods, was he ruthless.

✧ dividers by @hitobaby !

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jq37 · 2 months

Text

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 5

Attack of the Rage Mages

Welcome back to the Report Card where the Bad Kids are ready to fucking fight dude! Even the battle episodes this season are super beefy and I am having a crazy busy week so I’m going to do my best to try and strike a balance between giving y’all all the key details and being efficient.

To remind you guys of the setup: The Bad Kids have just been portaled to the Synod Mall by Adaine who was working there when Cassandra (there with Kalina to pamphlet) suddenly cried out in pain and started expelling crystal shards that are turning the mages that interact with them into beefy rage monsters who are attacking indiscriminately.

Also, a detail I didn’t mention last recap but is relevant in this one, hanging from the ceiling, kinda looking like the one in Grand Central Station, is a shifting interdimensional clock (since people visit the Synod from lots of places/dimensions and need to know their specific time).

OK, that’s everything you need to know! I’m gonna do this fight in bullets and focus on just the key points, and then jump into the things that matter more in the thoughts section. Onward!

Adaine clocks the crystals as being from the school of Enchantment. She uses Dimension Door to get Kristen right next to Cass who is getting bigger and more pissed. She’s even MORE pissed when Adaine asks Kristen if she should hit her with her sword.

Cass tries to cast Hold Monster on Kristen (ow) and Fig dispels it. Cass is also not happy about that and her skull flashes to her Nightmare King form for a moment.

Fabian clocks that things are about to get real and then does a TON of very cool, very impressive combo fighter/bard stuff. Everyone is playing really mechanically smart this episode but I have to say, he especially impressed me.

Riz checks the clock and sees that even though it’s only been a few seconds in the Synod, it’s been like 40 minutes in Spyre. Fabian checks in with the Hangman telepathically so he can do damage control and Fig wonders if they can use the clock to go back in time and not be late for the party.

Kalina goes invisible but Adaine can see her with her Divination powers and can see that her eyes are slitted and narrow and her tail is twitching.

Several of the red crystals have infected mages at this point and after Riz goes, using Tasha’s Hideous Laughter to distract one of the mages, the crystals whisper Cass’s name and the mages who aren’t distracted go for her.

Fabian attacks one (an attack of opportunity I believe) and Brennan notes as he slices them that they seem to have way more blood than usual under a lot of pressure, which is odd enough that I wanted to note it.

One of the mages does a whirlwind attack that hits Kristen, Adaine, Kalina and Cass. Cass and Kristen have at least this in common: they both fail the save and take the full 30 points. Cass yells for the mages to stop attacking and the red within her glows brighter.

Fig uses Suggestion to recruit one of the uninfected mages to help by Counterspelling anything harmful cast on Kristen. Luckily, Conor Counterpsell happened to be at the mall that day and is now at her service! She also hits Cass with a bardic saying that they’re there for her and that she doesn’t think she’s scared so much as pissed which is totally valid. Very rock and roll.

Cass commands everyone to get back and does a wave of necrotic damage to everyone around her. It seems a bit indiscriminate–even Kalina is hit which she wouldn’t usually do on purpose even as the NK.

Gorgug asks for an insight check to know if the crystals here are in any way related to the crystal in Lydia Barkrock’s chest that is keeping some evil at bay with her constant rage. Brennan gives a surprised but pleased Cheshire Cat grin. No roll necessary: they’re def related in some way. These pulse and move much more rapidly though. Hers pulses like a heartbeat.

On Kristen’s turn, she gives Cass a heartfelt apology about dropping the ball in general and missing this meeting specifically. She says she didn’t realize she was supposed to be here this time and she understands Cass being upset. Because this is season 3, I don’t even need to tell you what Ally rolls on this Persuasion check. But I will, because that’s what a recap is.

On Kristen’s Nat 20 (this is why she keeps getting gods despite her track record), Cassandra is instantly calmed and brought down to her regular size. She expels 7 more of those shatter star crystals and she’s bleeding and scared. She clearly internalized what Fig told her though because she also says that she’s pissed. All she wanted was to help! The red in her pulses as she says, “It isn’t f–” She doesn’t seem to be able to get out the word “fair”. And she sees that she’s freaking out Kristen with the red pulse so she tries to calm down.

Round 2 (Breaking This Up Because Tumblr Hates Big Text Blocks)

Adaine summons a mall cop but even a wizard mall cap is still a mall cop and thus, useless. Adaine offers to Dimension Door Cass away but Cass wants to stay and fight. “How are they back here?” Cass says about the stars. “I thought you were dead.” (On an Insight check, Kirsten doesn’t think that this is NK related).

Adaine has her coolest moment of the episode here (imo) where she casts True Strike and Steel Wind strike and then attacks again and again and again with her Sword of SIght doing 41 damage each to 4 of the stars. Brennan narrates it as the hits being foretold by her divination. It’s very cool and I’m glad Adaine can do melee attacks now.

Kalina turns back visible as it looks like the battle is turning in their favor. She shoots Riz a low, playful , “Hey Riz,” because of course she does.

It’s now Cass’s turn. She’s back to herself, she’s a goddess, it looks like she’s about to end this fight super early into the runtime. But then…

OK, things go bonkers for a sec. Stick with me.

Cass thanks Fig for the advice–seemingly utilizing her Bardic. She’s about to do some kind of Mass Dispelling. But then Fig starts to feel all weird and hot and her stomach gurgles. A fire elemental who I assume is on autopilot offers Fig a sample of shrimp and, for SOME REASON, despite her stomach feeling weird and them being in PITCHED COMBAT (Ally’s words lol), Fig takes a shrimp. The plate flips which starts a series of Rube Goldberg ass events that end with Cass choking on a piece of shrimp/having an allergic reaction (a thing that can apparently happen to a god) and going unconscious. At the table, the Intrepid Heroes are baffled except for Emily who is laughing hysterically.

Riz notices a drip of tartar sauce on Fig's shirt and finally realizes that she’s exhibiting some real Gilear behavior. He puts together that the effect that Cass didn’t save from (hmmm) was somehow connected to Fig giving her Bardic.

Fig quickly explains what happened with her unlocking something to help with the Night Yorb fight in ep 1 (she calls it an ancestral curse which is funny bc she’s not blood related to Gilear. Diversity win! This ancestral curse recognizes that non-traditional family structures are still just as valid!). Conor Counterspell is like Y’ALL there is a FIGHT happening to try and get them back on task. Before she does though, Fig (and Adaine) see a vision of the gleaming, golden Pride armor from the Bottomless Pit that Gilear wore back in SY. A voice says, “It was not yours to take” Ominous! Adaine’s vision has a fun Oracle bonus: Fig in the Pride armor, years in the future, causing Gilear-esque bullshit to happen on an apocalyptic scale. Goofy yet still ominous!

Adaine almost gets all raged up by a shatter star but she saves. Conor gets hit (much to Emily’s dismay) but he doesn’t turn on them. Put a pin in that.

Kalina yells for her mistress as she goes down but then also gets hit with a shatter star. Before the rage overtakes her she struggles to get out last words to Riz, “Ragh Barkrock.” And then she doesn’t grow, but she becomes very still.

Fabian is still VERY shrimp party focused and wants to try and use the clock to turn back time or something similar. He climbs up and sees a vision of an old version of himself lamenting the fact that he never got to be a maximum legend. Now he’s even MORE party focused. He tries to get the wizards to fight on the premise that they finally have the chance to beat up some jocks but they refrain because they know the rage mage’s are possessed and not true jocks. Welp, worth a shot!

Kalina gets the shrimp out of Cass’s throat to bring her back up which is enough time for Cass to give a hazy, “Kalina,” before her familiar says, “I liked you better as the Nightmare King” and slits her throat. Cass drops to zero.

Riz casts Compelled Duel on Kalina and Adaine uses a portent roll to make Kalina fail her save. He then hides. Some attacks happen, Kalina vanishes–away from Adaine’s 10 feet of vision but still within range of Riz because of the Compelled Duel.

The mages attack, dropping Kristen. Cass does a TON of saves and only fails one with a Nat 1. But that’s enough to trigger her partial transformation. She comes to, once again getting huge and riddled with red light through her veins.

Fig brings up Kristen. Cass gets even bigger and redder. She’s furious, but not at them anymore. She looks like she wants to murder Kalina. Kristen, with decent Insight, sees that the Rage is giving her power but it’s making her unstable. This isn’t like healthy embracing of valid emotions, this needs to be stopped.

She jumps on Cass’s back and says, “There's plenty of time to be angry! We can definitely talk this through, and your anger is not scary to me. I totally understand.” She casts Dispel Magic with her Staff of Doubt. A DC 23 is needed and she rolls with advantage. She missed by ONE. Brennan lets her roll again with advantage. Even worse rolls. She gets two more chances with Advantage. Nope. She rolls AGAIN, with an added d4. STILL NO. By my account that’s NINE rolls, none of them successes. Adaine tries as well and just misses. The dice REALLY don’t want this to happen it seems.

Cass prepares to cast a 9th Level Circle of Death (14d6 necrotic or half on a save). Fig and Adaine both try to Counterspell it and Fig tells Conor to do it as well. He says he has bigger fish to fry. She doesn’t see how that can be possible, but they’re OK because Adaine succeeds.

Conor then throws his staff at the clocks and shatters it, sending them through a trippy Labyrinth-esque (think Sarah falling out of the World Falls Down ball) scene that lands them back at Seacaster manor, ten seconds before they left. As they leave, Cass is getting bigger and bigger and she throws some kind of twilight energy spell at Kristen that follows them out. It seems like Conor saved them from something major that was about to go down.

But now, they’re back at the manor, watching themselves about to walk into the Synod fight. They yell some advice and their doubles disappear. Fig rolls a Nat 20 to understand time loops. She’s been a secret honor student this whole time is what I’m getting from this season.

Riz questions whether they won or not but this feels like a situation where if you have to ask, the answer is no.

OK, phew. That was a lot, but we still have a bit more to go.

Kristen tries to check in with Cass and she gets this ominous message: “She is at my side once more.” The Bad Kids try to parse that but don’t come up with a clear answer. The voice asks Kristen if she wishes for divinity and says they’ll give her the master she deserves. A portal opens and a slimy, rotted, Yes! slides out like a sick joke. Kristen dispels it and when the voice says, “I am coming for you. And when I find you, I will break you in a way that none who loved you will recognize the ruin I have wrought. Lean your soul in closer, that I might give you more than words,” she breaks the connection.

She also gets some images of the shattered mall, the dead mages floating in Astral Space, and she puts together that the Astral Realm is both where the mall is (*was) and where dead gods go.

Ragh shows up all buttered (sure) to tell them that the ramp is buttered (sure) and though Riz wants to question him right away (both because of Gorgug’s epiphany and Kalina’s last words), this party is HAPPENING so it’s gonna have to wait. They decide to go with the Fig Disguised As Kristen plan for the shrimp jump because Kristen is, very understandably, having an existential crisis. Riz makes her invisible and Fig goes to do the jump (much to the Hangman’s delight who likes her much better than Kristen).

Everyone gives Fig buffs but she does need it as she rolls a NAT 20. She uses her leftover spell slots to do some flashy pyrotechnics and leaves the tartar sauce filled pooled “like Daenerys”. The crow is in tearful awe. They cheer, they cry, they declare Fabian a minimum legend. They know for a fact that this is gonna be a killer year.

Honor Roll

Gorgug for Some Serious Sleuthing

At least once per season Zac has a genuine Jimmy Neutron Brain Blast about a plot thing and this was it for Junior Year. What a pull. He def beat me to it by a WIDE margin. And it ties in super neatly to things Gorgug would notice and have a sense about since he knows Lydia and knows rage. I don’t care what any of his teachers say; he’s smart in all the ways that count.

Detention

Adaine for Poor Timing

Adaine I love you so much but mayhaps, “Your God is dying again, you’re gonna fail junior year” isn’t the most helpful thing to say in the middle of a traumatic life event that is also a life or death battle.

Random Thoughts

Unironically the biggest W of this combat? Adaine losing her job. That was gonna cause more issues than it solved and she CAN get a better one. Or, you know, road trip with Aelwyn for some light matricide. Either would be better than her leaving school to work an 8 hour graveyard shift.

I wonder if Brennan meant for that clock to have time traveling properties and the party just clocked it (ha) before it came up or if they said it and then he used it to snatch them out of the fight that it didn’t seem like he wanted them to auto fail because he gave them so many rolls to try and save Cass! I really badly wanna know what he was hoping for out of this fight.

OK so I’m Pepe Silvia-ing a bit. In the previous episodes, there have been at least two moments where Brennan describes a character getting kinda hot under the collar. One is when Kristen is confronting her parents and the other is when Riz is mad about the Rat Grinders. And in the Kristen instance, she then got advantage on her next roll but Brennan didn’t say why. It struck me as odd both times and now I’m wondering if it’s related to whatever these shatter stars are.

Speaking of, we get a lot of tidbits about them but no real info. Cass saying, “I thought you were dead,” and also there’s a moment that didn’t make the recap where the stars almost go for something but then don’t because it wouldn’t be tactically the smartest and that feels like a level of active sentence, right? Plus the fact that they literally said Cass’s name to get the wizards to attack her. I wonder what a Detect Thoughts would have gleaned.

Lmao at Brennan making Emily profile the minis.

“By the laws of this ancient mall.” Bruh, it JUST opened!

Shocked that when Brennan described the crystals moving like a flock of birds, he resisted the opportunity to use the word “murmuration”.

Cass doesn’t seem able to get the word “Fair” out. She’s struggling like there’s a geas spell on her or something else compelling her. The obvious thing to jump to is KP’s campaign which emphasized “fairness under the rules” but it’s hard to see how those things are connected yet. Just throwing some stuff up on the conspiracy board for later.

Also, while pseudo-connections are being made, I wonder if Gorgug’s rage storyline is going to intertwine with whatever is happening with these rage stars. There was mention of like rage that is helpful vs rage that makes you unstable and that reminded me of Porter talking about how Gorgug only really rages to protect his friends. I dunno. We’ll see if it ends up going further than just the parallels.

My favorite moment of the ep didn’t make the recap but I wanted to highlight it here. When Adaine is targeted by the rage star, she saves but Brennan asks her what the world would look like if she was consumed by rage and she said Falinel would be destroyed as revenge and Sylvaire would be destroyed–not on purpose but as collateral damage in the quest to hunt her mother. I think questions like that for flavor and character insight are so fun!

The Hangman’s adoration of Fig is so cute. He was lamenting his shrimp costume that he of course had to wear for the shrimp jump (shoutout Torek) but when Fig said she thought it was cute he got all blushy. I love him.

I have to mention that Riz cast Tasha’s Hideous Laughter by flossing (like the dance). Who taught that goblin how to floss? Is Riz on Fantasy TikTok?

Lmao at Kristen suddenly being like, Shh, don’t mention the arty-Pay in from of ass-Cay in this fight as if she hasn’t been putting her foot in her mouth for the past four eps. Took 5 eps but her tact finally arrived.

“Your anger isn’t scary to me,” is a genuinely sweet sentiment in this context.

When the Bad Kids are speculating about what the hell happened after the fight, someone asks Kristen if Cass has a dad or something she can talk to. Idk if she has a dad exactly but closest would be that Sol and Galicaea are her older siblings, right? (I thiiink that’s right. Def about Gal. Taking the wiki's word for it re Sol). I’m more and more suspicious about this turning into a family affair. And it would make sense for them to get involved right? It parallels Kristen’s relationship with her family coming back to the forefront. And Tracker is still in the mix as Gal’s cleric. I dunno, it feels like it’s gonna be important.

It’s likely that Kalina prob met whatever fate Cass did but we’ve seen that Kalina can operate kinda separated from Cass (like she did in SY) and Brennan said that Cass can’t truly die unless Kristen and Craig do so I guess we’ll see where that goes.

Are Fig’s Bardics now a game of Russian Roulette? If so, uh-oh! We don’t have a ton to go on for the exact mechanics of what’s going on yet, but it seems certain that a trip to hell is gonna be necessary to start getting this sorted (which she really needs to do anyway being an archdevil with responsibilities and all).

These have been getting too long for Tumblr to handle lately so I’ll end on these last two bullets. In the AP, Ally said that Kristen really does want to be a cleric to Cass, she’s just suffering for lack of organization. And at least to me, that’s not how it’s come across so far, but taking that into account puts her actions in a different light. It’s still all irresponsible of course but if it’s supposed to be more just genuinely scattered than callous/indifferent then this feels more like a storyline about looking for middle ground than finding yet another new path whole cloth. She was for sure more in serious mode this ep than she has been the last four eps so we’ll see if this side of her sticks around.

I ended the last recap by saying I was worried for Cass and, guess what? Still am! Galicaea, help your sister!

#Dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 #d20 spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #spoilers #the report card

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t0ast-ghost · 7 days

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S2 episode 22 (By Any Other Name) I changed the opening for this one because I left myself the note of “That wasn’t funny pls change it”

Well that’s what you get now:

- Those redshirts are gonna die so fast

- This guy knows what he wants. Too bad it’s the ship…

- McCoy and Spock are frozen arguing

- “Try to escape or disobey and you will be severely punished.” Welp.. we know what’s gonna happen now, don’t we.

- Oh so they just want a way home.. nope they’re conquerors

- Oh neat, they’re not supposed to be in skin

- McCoy and Kirk ready to go out and break stuff and Spock supporting it but also like “You don’t know what the fuck you’re looking for.”

- Spock get mind exploded

- ahem. What.

- THEYRE HOLDING SPOCK (McCoy I see that hand around his waist)

- Oh my god they’re gonna kill both of the redshirts in one go

- You know those satisfying videos…

- fucking hell

- “Spock are you sure you’re alright?” McCoy is worried

- THEY HAVE TENTACLES?!? THEYRE TENTACLE MONSTERS?!??!!

- Kirk touching Spock’s shoulders again

- Spock opens his eyes in sick bay and McCoy’s like “not fucking yet”

- Chapel is full on thinking, “you sneaky bastards.”

- Shakespeare reference

- Kirk distracting the guard in the background is so funny. Great choice to just have him there with no sound

- Scotty with his finger RIGHT over the button. Goddamn this man wants to press the shiny button (no he doesn’t)

- I’d love a stim toy that’s just a bunch of the ship control buttons, but like those exact colours

- Kirk chair swivel (I’m so glad his chair can swivel, it’s something Picard misses out on)

- GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM UHURA. NO! They got Uhura and Chekov!

- Kirk is losing all of his friends/found family. This is hell. Who wrote this.

- oh my god, an honest Bones and Kirk fight, this is.. not good

- “Assist me.” “You’re idea doctor, go ahead.” Kirk is still mad and so is Bones but I wouldn’t let him near one of those guys

- “It’s quite good.” “I’m delighted😒” Bones knows how to sass

- “oh, you are trying to seduce me.” Kirk: 😨

- Scotty: Drinking. McCoy: Drugs. Kirk: Sex. Spock: …Chess

- McCoy smiles at one of the Kelvan’s correcting him… it’s like having a bunch of Spock’s on board

- Spock pats McCoy’s shoulder

- Scotty’s mission accomplished unsuccessfully

- Kirk gets THROWN

- Kirk getting caught by Spock and McCoy and then immediately saying, “I’m stimulating him.” Wild

- McCoy and Spock just watching their boyfriend beat up/choke out a guy

- WOW! That worked 😃👍

Ending that with a McCoy bounce :)))

Masterpost

Episode written by D. C. Fontana and Jerome Bixby

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos spock #leonard bones mccoy #tos bones #tos mccoy #captain james kirk #tos kirk #montgomery scott #tos scotty #pavel chekov #tos chekov #nyota uhura #tos uhura

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elletheactualmenace · 8 months

Text

Roller Coasters

Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: A fun, uneventful day at Coney Island with Peter. But when Peters involved, things are not always uneventful.

Warnings: Horribly written fight sequence, fluffy at the beginning, angsty at the end, nausea, People in danger, nonsensical occurrences, lame ass ending, lmk if i missed one

Word count: 2.9k

a/n: hate hate hate hate hate hate hate this. But I needed to finish it. Anyways I have another Peter Parker story brewing in the pot, hopefully a multi part story. Don’t trust me on it. Also ignore the ugly photo :’) As always enjoy my horrible writing.

“Hey, Peter?” You ask, leaning over the kitchen table chair. Peter lifts his head from the newspaper he was looking at. The headline reads ‘Electro Still On The Loose’ with a picture of Peter, well Spiderman, fighting Electro. It’s the fight from last week.

Electro hasn’t shown his face since then and it’s stressing out Peter. You can tell by the bags under his eyes and his slumped shoulders against the table.

“Yeah?” He asks, turning to you.

“I know you’ve been stressed about Electro, you haven’t left the apartment all week, except for your patrols. You need to get out. So I was thinking, tomorrow, just for an hour or so, we could go to Coney Island.” Peter looks down thinking for a moment. His tired gaze meeting the table.

“Y/n, baby I-“ you cut him off before he can turn the idea down.

“Listen, I know you need to be alert and ready for him, and you have been, but you also need to de-stress. It will be for an hour. Okay? Then we’ll come back. If you really want you can bring your suit under your outfit.” You try to reason and Peter sighs, giving in, too tired to argue. He also knows you’re right.

“I would have either way,” he states and you give him a confused look.

“Brought the suit, I would have brought it whether or not you said I could.” He sheepishly explains. And you give him a pointed look, telling him that he shouldn’t have said that, as he rubs the back of his neck.

“So that’s a yes?” You move on with a raised brow, and he nods reluctantly. Your smile shows him how grateful you are that he said yes, even if you are still a little annoyed.

The next day at around 3:00pm you walk into the gates of Coney Island. Smiles on both you and Peter's faces. He’s already more relaxed just at the change of scenery.

After a couple of rides you can tell that Peter doesn’t have as strong of a stomach as you and he thought.

“Come on!” You tug on Peter's sleeve walking in the detection of the next ride you want to go on.

“Hold on,” Peter looks pale and nauseous. The last ride you went on was so fast you think your clothes might have fallen off if the buckle on your seat wasn’t suffocating you like it was.

“I need a,” he interrupts himself with a gagging noise. “sec,”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one who can handle this sort of thing? You are, you know, Spiderman.” You whisper, “And these rides are like swinging with your webs,” You chuckle and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Shut up. This is nothing like swinging. When I’m swinging I have full control over where I’m going and what I’m doing.” He retorts standing up straight with his hand on his stomach.

“Oh, really?” You ask skeptically, “what about the times you get thrown by monsters or ‘bad guys’?” Peter thinks for a moment then continues walking in the direction you were pulling him, without you.

“I have no control over that, just like on roller coasters. And I don’t get thrown for fun, so why would I want to experience the same thing on rides for fun?” He asks in a grumble, as you catch up with him.

You roll your eyes. Looping your arm in his, you guide him to the next ride you want to take him on.

“You’ll still go on the roller coasters with me though, right?” You ask looking up at him with pleading eyes. He sighs, defeated.

“Fine.” You grin widely at him and he gives you a small smile back.

“Okay so now we have to go on Cyclone!” You exclaim pulling him again. “The best ride here.”

“It was opened in 1927,” You comment as you walk over.

“19?” Peter squeaks out.

——

You and Peter are waiting in line for thunderbolt and Peter is trembling. He looks up at the 115 feet tall ride, which drops at a 90 degree angle. He gulps gripping the metal railing of the line for dear life. He turns to you whispering in a small voice.

“Any chance you’re gonna wanna back out of this?” You roll your eyes at him shaking your head.

“Not a chance.” You pause and then speak again. “What happened to the unafraid skateboard kid I fell in love with?” You raise an eyebrow in question.

Peter's nose scrunches up at your use of words. “‘Skateboard kid’? Really? I was never a ‘Skateboard kid’. So you clearly fell in love with someone else.” His disgusted face breaks into a smile and wholehearted laugh when you raise a brow .

“Ok, fine. Skateboard kid or what you want to call it, you still were unafraid,” You note. He shrugs.

“I am unafraid…of most things.” He remarks. You puff out a laugh and step past the worker onto the platform to get into your seat.

Peter's body freezes when he realizes it’s finally his turn to ride Thunderbolt. His eyes go wide and he is unmoving.

“You unafraid of this?” You laugh as you try to pull him to your seats.

“I said most things.” He informs you.

“Common tough guy, you’re holding up the line.” You say and Peter turns around to see a big bulky bodybuilding looking guy looking down at him with an annoyed look on his face. Peter shrinks and lets you pull him to the seats.

When he sits down he can’t tell if he’s more scared of the guy or the fact he was about to lunch from this coster to an early death. Peter turns to you and he sees your outstretched hand, ready for him to take. He takes it gratefully. He whispers thanks and you smile.

The ride starts up, moving forward and Peter's grip on your hand gets tighter. The rides track turns and you begin your ascent up the big drop. The cranking noise is loud in your ears. And all of the sudden Peter is thankful you didn’t get the front row of seats. His grip on the bar is so strong he is worried he will leave a dent. You stroke his thumb hoping to soothe his worry. It works.

“I'm sorry that I forced you to come on with me.” You confess out of nowhere. In truth you see his scared eyes and the grip he has on the bar handle and feel bad. He is also crushing your hand. Peters brows scrunch.

“What? I wanted to come.” He says, turning his head to look at you.

“You did? You look pretty terrified right now.” You blurt out. He laughs nervously.

“Oh, believe me, I am. But I like doing things with you, and this can’t possibly be worse than getting tosed around by villains like im a bean bag.” He says focus on you, you smile and so does he.

Then in a second the cart you are sitting in plummets down toward the rock hard ground. Peter's grip on your hand loosens as both of his hands grip the bar in front of him. The ride reaches the ground but immediately flys back up and into a loop. He yells but instead of just fear you can hear joy and excitement. The same joy and excitement as when he swings you around New York.

You lift your arm up, ‘whoo-ing’ with happiness and adrenaline pumping through your veins. The cart twists with the corkscrew. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Peter smile and then you hear him laugh. Not something you expected. It makes your grin grow as you laugh with him.

After the last bump up and down on the ride, it slows to a stop. Peter's hair is messy but not too unusual form normally. When the bar lifts you chuckle and ruff up his hair more.

He turns to you panting. You both hop out of the seats and walk to the exit gate where all the other riders are headed. Once you’re out and you both get your phones you head over to a shady spot on the boardwalk.

“So?” You ask Peter.

“I don’t know what it was, but that one ride was a lot more fun than the other ones you made me go on.” He laughs out and you smirk, content with yourself.

“See? All you needed was to find the right one. And next time if you don’t want to go on something just tell me and I’ll drop it, and we won’t go.” You say with a tiny bit of gilt. He gives you a reassuring smile and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

“I will.”

——

When it starts to get darker crowds of people begin to gather on the beach and the boardwalk, waiting for the fireworks to begin. Americans take the fourth of July seriously and if you hadn't known that before, you sure do now. The herds of people make it hard to walk without bumping into someone or touching someone unintentionally.

You and Peter find a somewhat vacant spot in the crowd and wait to watch the fireworks.

When the first spark of light shoots into the sky the crowd of people erupt into cheers. People wiping cameras out and others just enjoying the view. The lights come first and then the sound. It’s like popcorn popping but louder. Purple orange, from red and yellow to green. Yellow lines in the sky shoot out from the spark. So loud and powerful you swear you can feel it in your heart and stomach. There is screeching and wailing that sounds like people on rides but it’s the fireworks.

After many minutes of the breathtaking lights of color you know that the finale is soon. You grasp Peter's hand in excitement and he smiles down at you with love. Peter pulls you close to him by wrapping his strong arm around your waist, hugging you to his side.

As the final shots of light leaps up into the night air the normal colors of streaming light changes into a face. One very familiar to both you and Peter and the People of New York. Electro. Peter immediately springs into action. He gives you a look that says he’s sorry for leaving but you reassure him.

“Go Peter, I’ll help evacuate the boardwalk.” Peter nods at your words and runs off somewhere to change into his suit. Before you are able to start evacuating, Electro shoots a blast of electricity out toward a big crowd of people and everyone begins panicking and running around trying to get away. You use your arms to direct people away from the scene.

Spiderman leaps unto the Thunderbolt sign, effectively getting Electro’s attention.

“Hey Max-a-million,” Spiderman says waving to him. Electro is not so pleased with Spiderman's name choice. “What’s goin’ on man? This is supposed to be a celebration, not a free for all, destroy what you want,” Spiderman comments standing up with his arms crossed, tapping his foot. As Spiderman says this you are running down to the water to help people get away. You spot a small family trying to get out of the water and run towards the buildings in the distance. You run into the water, clothes on, and help the father by grabbing the baby in his arms so he can help his daughter.

You hand the baby to his mother and run back into the waves of the ocean to help the others. The father's grip on his daughter's hand falters as she trips and falls into the deep sandy water, the father successfully gets on land, and you run over to the girl.

Electro lets out an almost growl. “Piss off Spidey. This is my celebration, causing chaos and causing you the trouble of trying to save everyone when you know you can’t.” Peter gets mad at this. And jumps over to where Electro is connected to his power source, which is right by you. But before Spiderman can get it disconnected Electro shoots a bolt of lightning this time at the ocean. Oh no. Peter thinks as he watches the bolt in almost slow motion. Peter spots you and his eyes go wide. You have the little girl in your arms and are trying to pull her out of the now ankle deep water.

Spiderman shoots a web towards your body, his heart pounding against the stretchy fabric of his tight suit. When it attaches to your shoulder he pulls as hard as you can. You and the girl in your arms are yanked back harshly. You both crash onto the dry sand right as the Electricity hits the water. You get whiplash from the pull and hit the sand harshly.

The little girl gets up and runs into her fathers arms, and then they run away. You try to get up but your body aches from the fall. You get yourself up slowly and painfully and try to follow the herd of people away, but you stumble and limp.

Peter looks to you anxiously, but then turns back his attention to the task at hand when he sees you get up. Peter runs to where Electro is getting his power from and yanks at it. Electro shoots a blast in his direction and he flips over it, dodging it. He dodges many more blasts while trying to get Electro unplugged.

Then finally he gets it. Electro's eyes go wide as his electric form turns into a human one. Peter watches as he begins tumbling towards the ground. Spiderman leaps up to catch him, and lands on the boardwalk with a smoking Max.

The next few minutes are a blur. The police arrive and take Electro into custody, Spiderman talks to the cops about casualties and what happened. And then he swings away to somewhere, where he won’t be spotted changing into everyday clothing, and then Peter rushes back the the boardwalk to find you.

When he get there he searches everywhere, he even calls you. Hes on the beach where he saw you last when he hears a phone ringing next to his foot. He bends down to pick it up. It’s your phone. Peter slides the phone into his back pocket and runs back over to the police. Peter runs over to an officer and is stopped from going further.

“Wow, wow, hold it there.” The officer says. “I'm looking for someone, Officer.” Peter pants out.

“Alright, breath son.” The Officer orders. “Do you think they were injured?”

“Yea- yes. I lost her in the crowd. She fell on the beach and I couldn’t get to her.” His lie seems believable enough, because it was partially true. The Officer sighs.

“If you recognize any of the people over by the ambulances then I can let you by, but otherwise I can’t help you.” The Policeman points behind him to the medics and he scans over the faces of the people looking for yours.

When he spots you sitting in the back of the truck he points, “Over there, I know her, She's my girlfriend.” The Policeman hesitates, “Can I please go over to her?” He pleads out, eyes getting teary.

“Alright, go ahead.” The policeman sighs, steps aside and lets Peter through, and he runs over to you while calling your name. You look up abruptly and Peter sees the cuts on your face. His fear worsens.

“Y/N? Oh, baby are you okay?” Peter asks as he takes your face in between his hands. You nod. Your skin is cold and it makes him worried. He takes of his jacket and pulls it around your damp and sandy body.

“Peter, I'm fine, really.” Peter pulls you into a tight embrace, after a moment of hesitation you hug him back.

“I'm so, so sorry, honey,” Peter says shakily. Griping you for dear life. Like if he lets go, his whole world would fall apart, because without you it would.

“I'm alright Peter, just a little frazzled, that's all.” You rub his back soothingly and he holds you with his face in your neck, willing tears not to come.

“I should never have agreed to come here.” Peter whispers into your shoulder. You shush him and tut.

“If you hadn’t so many more would be hurt. Including me.” You whisper back. “None of this is your fault.” Peter pulls away at your words to rest his forehead against yours. You both close your eyes taking in each other. Peter raps his hand around yours with a heavy sigh.

“I'm so happy you're okay,” He says before he leans in to leave a long, loving kiss on your cheek. “I don’t think I could do anything without you. I don’t even know who I’d be, especially if it was my fault.” His voice brakes as a tear slips from his eye.

You don’t say anything but pull him into a hug as he quietly cries.

“I can’t promise I won’t leave Pete,” You start trying to find the right words. You know you can’t promise anything or be sure of what is to come, but you can be sure of this, what is happening in the present. “All I know is, right now, at this moment, I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You pull Peter impossibly closer to your chest. “I won’t let anything change how I feel about you. I love you Peter. And no Electric man or Lizard can change that.” He chuckles softly as you kiss the top off his head. Peter leans all his weight against you, as you hold each other. And he mumbles.

“I love you too Y/n, more than you will ever understand.”

#tasm fic #x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #angst #fluff #peter parker #tasm peter #tasm!peter fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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murder-cookie-dust393 · 8 months

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This might be an odd brainrot but hear me out. How much of a world of pain would they be in if say... five cookies were to try to rescue S/O from the clutches of a Yandere Pure Vanilla Cookie?

Ok so I’m a bit confused on the wording…so I might not have completely understood. (No blame- I’m just a little dum dum)

I’m not sure who “they” was meant to be, but I’m gonna assume it’s the 5 cookies???

Ok so the 5 cookies…I don’t think it was specified so I’m just gonna spin the wheel-

We got:

KniGHT CooKie

BLACK RAISIN(????)

MOONLIGHT (SCREAMING)

Captain Caviar ✨

ALMOND TOO?? (BRO THIS WHEEL IS WILD)

Mkay so we got 2 Dilfs, a pretty princess who will beat you up, a cookie without a limb and loves birds, and…a knight.

(We should make this a game- just spin the wheel and see which cookies fight against Yan whoever lmao)

Tw: kidnapping, mention of ‘blood’, Pure Vanilla is literally insane, MC gets restrained

Ok so I know Moonlight is def stronger than Pure Vanilla so let’s ist say they’re equal for the sake of convenience.

The team of the 5 cookies were absolutely worried when their good friend literally just got kidnapped by so called “Cookie of pure hope”. What had made the healer so fucking salty that he had to kidnap them??

Thanks to Almond’s ultimate detective skills, the group had managed to find the king. He was cradling MC so tightly, like a deranged madman as his maniacal eyes stared at them.

Poor MC was quivering with fear, their arms bound to their sides. Everything about their expression screamed help.

“…Why are you here? There is no need to attack, they are simply delighted to be in arms.”

Not writing on my laptop so it’s orange ;-;

“PURE VANILLA! I demand you release them immediately! You know what happens if you don’t!”

For once, Moonlight was far from calm, a look of anger crossing her face. She glared at the blonde cookie as if he were vermin.

“Haha! Never.”

He sarcastically laughed, before frowning again, holding MC tighter to his body.

“…My king, what has happened to you?”

Black Raisin was horrified to see healer so troubled. He didn’t look like himself, his heart seemed to be…cold, for once.

“Love changed me. I realized I needed to be harsher against this cruel world who labels my love as ‘insane obsession’.”

…

“That’s because it is! A sane cookie wouldn’t kidnap someone for the sake of love! Your heart is tainted, Pure Vanilla!”

Knight Cookie charged for Pure Vanilla, but his sword was deflected by a sudden object. The knight flew back slightly by the impact, falling down.

Almond helped him stand, and the group saw a big ass Vanilla flower monster, its body towering over behind Pure Vanilla and MC.

(I’m literally bullshitting this story help-)

“Haha…This little guy here is a prototype. Since my magic isn’t for combat, I decided to make myself a guard to help me out here. He’s a good boy isn’t he?”

Pure Vanilla smiled, not in his usual innocent fashion; it was crooked, a cruel smile.

“This bastard…Looks like this won’t be an easy rescue.” Almond mumbled, as the group readied their weapons.

“I would never let you steal my precious dear from me. They NEED me. I’m their comfort. You villains!”

Pure Vanilla exclaimed in a crazed voice, seemingly offended of being underestimated.

“YOUR STRAWBERRY JAM WILL TAINT THESE FLOORS, AS IT DESERVES TO BE!”

Pure Vanilla stood, the eye of his staff wide open.

Caviar held up his ginormous cannon, sighing, “You’re almost as bad as that Black Pearl mermaid-“

——

And the ending will be up to your imagination!

If I miss interpreted the brainrot plz tell me, bcs I am willing to rewrite to its proper form.

#cookie run #crk #cookie run kingdom #yandere cookie run #cookie run x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #crk x reader #yandere crk #blurbs #yandere imagines

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 2 years

Text

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 2: The Convergence

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1, ...(Masterlist)... Part 3,

A/N: Look at that! Part 2 already! I told you guys I already have a lot written, just have to review and type it. Hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Word Count: 1,893

Warnings: Near death, Swearing

The sun beat down on the asphalt. You feel the heat of it through the worn down soles of your sneakers. They had seen better days, tattered and dirty from the miles you paced every day this summer. A couple more weeks and they wouldn't have any tread left at all.

This was your favourite time of day. When the sun was high in the sky and the heat washed over you like a blanket, permeating through your t-shirt, warming you to your core. A light sheen of sweat covers your skin and cools you with every breeze. The road you are on is also one of your favourites. It wasn't well travelled, just a long stretch of paved road running parallel to the train tracks. You can't see the tracks for your spot on the road, but you know they are there, just beyond the maze of thick trees that border your path. The last person you had seen was a farmer hauling hay in the back of an old pick-up, and that had been nearly 30 min ago.

While your feet carry you forward, you let your mind wander. You think about the short conversation you had with your mom before she had gone to bed this morning. You had been filling your water bottle, getting ready for your day, when she came into the kitchen carrying the mail. You offered her a gentle smile but neither of you said anything. It had been like this since you came home, there would be these silences where neither of you knew what to say. Finally, after taking a seat across from you at the counter she spoke.

“Your schedule came in the mail.” she said softly, sliding an envelope across the counter towards you. For a moment, her words didn’t register in your mind.

Schedule? Schedule for what? Looking at the envelope you saw the Hawkins High School code of arms in the corner.

School. Right. You had completely forgotten that school was still something you had to do. All of the monster fighting and almost dying really put that kind of thing out of mind.

“Oh! Right!” you said quickly, grabbing the envelope and sliding it into the side of your bag with your water bottle. “That’s so exciting!” you tried to sound genuinely happy but it sounded fake, even to your ears. You could see in your mother’s eyes that she wasn’t buying it either. You knew she was worried, and you hated that you were the cause of it. You cut her off before she could try and ask you anything. You didn't have the heart to lie to her.

“I’m going to head out.” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking around the counter to her side. “Get some rest mom.” you gently place a kiss on her temple, a tired smile pulling at her lips. “I love you and I’ll be back in a few hours.” She hummed in response, the worry still in her eyes but holding her tongue. Instead she reminded you to be safe and if anything happened to call Hopper.

You were out the door, beginning your walk, as the sky began to lighten. The envelope in your bag weighing heavily on your mind.

You spent the majority of your walk ignoring it. You don't want to think about the approaching school year. It was something you had been avoiding for a while. Each time it crossed your mind, your heart would begin to race and your palms became clammy. The arrival of your class schedule was like being dunked into a bucket of ice water. You can't stand thinking about being back in those halls, the classrooms, the cafeteria, with all those people. People who would be looking at you, whispering. Telling half truths and spreading rumours about what happened to you. You can already feel the stares on you walking through town. You can't imagine how bad school was going to be.

Consumed by your anxious thoughts, you fail to recognize the sounds of an approaching vehicle. The driver of that vehicle is equally surprised to see a person in the road when they look up from adjusting the radio. A lot happens all at once.

The driver slams on the brakes, swerving wildly to avoid hitting you as you jump away. You lose your footing and tumble down the incline on the side of the road into the ditch. When the world finally stops spinning, you are too stunned to move. You can feel the adrenaline flooding through your veins and your heart pounding against your ribs. You lay still in the ditch, trying to make sure you are actually still alive. You can hear the sound of yelled curses up on the road, soon accompanied by the sound of a door slamming and rushed footsteps heading in your direction.

A figure comes into your line of sight, looming over you. They are silhouetted by the sun, making it difficult to see their features. They take one look at you on the ground before they start yelling.

“What the Fuck?! Are you tring to fucking die!? Who in their right mind walks in the middle of the god damn road?! I could have fucking killed you!” A male voice thunders from above you. As he continues to scream, you groan, rolling onto your side before pulling yourself to your knees. You look over your arms, only noting a couple scrapes. Regaining your bearings, you try to make sure nothing is seriously damaged while the man continues to hurl obscenities at you. You conclude that other than a couple bumps and bruises, you are unharmed.

“Are you fucking deaf and stupid?! I’m talking to you!” The stranger yells, taking a step forward. You stand on shaky legs before responding.

“It sounds more like you’re talking AT me.” You state calmly, taking a moment to dust off your arms and legs. There is a pause before you receive an angry response.

“What’s the difference?” He asks. You take a deep breath, still trying to settle your nerves, then move to ascend the slope.

“The same difference between me “hearing” you and me actually “listening” to you.” you explain matter-of-factly. There is another pause of silence between the two of you.

“I don't see the difference.” He responds harshly. As you look up to respond, your foot slides on the loose gravel, almost sending you tumbling back down to the ditch. The man’s hands grab your arms faster than you can blink. He roughly hauls you the rest of the way up to solid ground. As soon as you are on level footing his hands are off you just as quickly.

Now on the same level, you can make out his features clearly. He has curly blonde hair, hanging loosely around his shoulders. His outfit is casual, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His face was composed of all sharp edges, he could have been carved from stone if it weren't for his eyes. They were softer, gentler than the rest of his face, and as blue as the ocean.

“Jesus, it’s like you’re trying to end up in a ditch.” he grumbles, taking a step away from you.

“Thanks.” you say, sounding slightly out of breath, your heart still beating quickly. He looks surprised for half a second before the scowl returns to his face.

“Now, what the hell were you doing walking in the middle of the road?” He doesn't yell the question this time, but he is still clearly angry. The harsh angles of his expression hiding any of the softness you might have seen in his eyes.

“At the risk of sounding redundant… I was walking.” You say, keeping your expression tame as he looks at you like you have a second head.

“Fuck.” he scoffs. “You must actually be crazy.” a rueful smile pulls at his lips. There is nothing kind about it. The flash of his white teeth as he shakes his head makes him look like a predator. You just hope he doesn't see you as prey.

“Is there some nut-house I can drop you off at or something?” He asks, gesturing to the blue camaro idling on the side of the road ahead of you. Your eyes catch the California tags and the licence plate number: PCE 235. Interesting.

“Oh. I-uh..” you stammer lamely, still trying to figure out how he had insulted you and offered you a ride in the same sentence. Apparently your hesitance was making him impatient because he scoffs again, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not rocket science, kid.” at this response you can't help but scoff yourself, chuckling lightly at the insanity of it all.

“You almost ran me over driving a hundred miles an hour, and you expect me to get in the car you almost killed me with? And I’m the crazy one?” You shoot back, exasperated. His eyes fix you with a sharp galre.

“You were the one in the middle of the road.” he says spitefully.

“You were the one not watching the road. There is literally nothing out here. How could you NOT see me?” you bite back, not shying away from his icy stare. There is a pregnant pause while the two of you size one another up.

“Fine.” he says harshly, breaking the silence. He shrugs, taking another step towards his car. He runs a hand though his curls in a way that is surely meant to look aloof but appears too practised in your eyes. “Try not to die, loca.” he adds casually, turning to walk back to his car. He pauses, mid-stride, and stoops to the ground picking something up off the asphalt. He inspects it for a moment before turning back to you.

“This must be yours.” he says, extending his hand which holds the envelope containing your class schedule. He makes no move to walk towards you, so you walk to him, begrudgingly taking the envelope from his hand.

“Thank you…” you say for the second time to the man that nearly killed you minutes ago.

“Billy.” He supplies his name.

“Thank you, Billy.” You add. You notice something flicker across his face, but it remains stoney otherwise.

“Yea well, the next person who almost hits you might not be as nice as me.” He responds coldly, turning again to walk back to his car. He climbs back into the driver's seat, slamming the door roughly. You jump at the sudden rev of the engine. The tires spin out as he accelerates the car, whipping it around quickly, coming back towards you. He slows next to you, his window down.

“Stay out of the fucking road next time.” he bites angrily before putting on a pair of sunglasses and speeding away in the direction he had come from. The smell of burning rubber stings your nose causing you to cough.

You watch as the car disappears down the long back road. The sounds of the loud engine soon fading as well. You suddenly become aware of how quiet it is.

Looking down at the envelope in your hands you take measure of it momentarily. Then, standing on the hot asphalt of a back road you had almost died on, you open it.

Part 1, ... (Masterlist)... Part 3,

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed that! More to come soon! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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