#this parallel stabbed me right in the chest

[linusbenjamin]

Doctor Who (2005-) | Tenth Doctor & The Master Obi-Wan Kenobi (2022) | Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker

#it's not that anyone's gonna give a shit but #this parallel stabbed me right in the chest #star wars #obi wan kenobi #doctor who #ewan mcgregor #hayden christensen #david tennant #john simm #tvedit #scifiedit #userdiana #usertom #nikolatexla

[velaryon-seahores]

Eclipsed Love Part II.

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Fem!reader ( Modern au )

synopsis : You and Aemond shared a romantic bond during your high school years. However, your relationship took a turn when an unexpected pregnancy altered the dynamics. Aemond, driven by aspirations of pursuing a career in medicine, struggled to reconcile his dreams with the newfound responsibilities. Meanwhile, the financial constraints and fear of revealing the situation to your strict parents left you without options, making abortion unattainable. When Aemond chose to end the relationship, you made the difficult decision to vanish, seeking a fresh start. Years later, your son fell seriously ill, necessitating medical attention. The twist in the tale was that the doctor who held the key to your son's recovery happened to be none other than his biological father, Aemond.

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort. Literally that’s it.

Word count : 3.9k

A/n : comments likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!❤️

This chapter was superrrrrrrrr long I had to split it into two, this might be a boring chapter because Unfortunately I had to cut out the important scene but bare with me, I promise we will have grays anatomy type of drama

Part I Part III

Stabbed in the heart.

As you laid eyes on him and his voice reached your ears, it felt like a sharp dagger had been plunged into your heart.

Across the passing years, you toiled ceaselessly to mend the pain he had sown within you. Each effort, a step toward stitching the wounds he had inflicted, aiming to stride forward. But in a mere heartbeat, his very presence shattered it all. Your hand instinctively found your chest, fingers cradling the pieces of your broken heart, keeping them from falling apart.

And right then, a wave of understanding washed over you – the truth hit home with stunning clarity. You saw, as if for the first time, that your wounds had never fully healed, that the notion of moving on was a fragile illusion. Here, tears tracing a familiar path down your cheeks, you stood in that bathroom, a parallel to the sixteen-year-old you, the girl whose heart he shattered.

Oh, the heartlessness of fate, forcing you to revisit the day that haunted your fears, compelling you to endure once more the darkest hours of your existence. It was the day when dreams crumbled into dust, love turned into ashes, and you were never the same again.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as your gaze met its reflection in the mirror. Qoren's knocks at the door, your tears falling, Aemond as their cause – the scene was hauntingly familiar. Too familiar.

How cruel fate is for making you repeat the scenario.

How cruel.

Ten years ago..

During lunch break, you stood alone behind the school walls. In the same spot you and Aemond would usually meet to have some passionate sex session, but now you anxiously waited for Aemond, your hands tightly clenched in fear.

A hand embraced you, pulling you close against a firm chest. "Already missing me?"

Aemond.

A quivering exhale escaped your lips, carrying with it the weight of your emotions, as you turned gracefully into his embrace, enveloped by the security of his arms with your head buried in his warm chest.

“ Hey baby.. what’s wrong?” He asked as he pulled you away from him, cupping your face in his large hands to look at you “ What’s wrong!”

Tears flowed freely, your sobs becoming a river of emotions. Aemond pulled you into his embrace once more, holding you close and gently cradling your head as he hushed your cries. "Y/n, love, please tell me. What's happened? Talk to me."

With trembling lips, you managed to speak amidst the tears. "I... I'm pregnant."

You felt his hand go still, and you could sense him holding his breath as the weight of your words sank in. "What?" His voice was a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes, you saw his expression transform into one of horror and disbelief. "I'm pregnant," you repeated, your voice quivering.

"How?" The word escaped his lips, laden with a sense of disbelief and confusion.

Your voice was strained as you recounted the events leading up to this moment. "Your brother, Aegon's party," you explained, your voice catching as you relived the memory. "We were drunk, and you forgot to wear a condom... I think I forgot to take the pill."

Aemond's grip on you seemed to loosen, his hand slipping into his hair as his distress became evident. "My parents are going to kill me if they find out, Aemond! My mother... she noticed it before me, and she's going to take me to the ob—"

"Get rid of it," he interrupted sharply, his tone cutting through the air with a firmness you had never heard before, catching you off guard.

You tried to explain, your voice strained with fear and anxiety. "You know that my family only gives me a strict amount of money! And... I'm scared to have an abortion at home—"

"What do you want me to do?" His tone grew a little louder, causing you to flinch.

"Aemond!" You looked at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Why was he reacting this way? "My mother is taking me to the doctor tomorrow morning! She won't even let me go to school! You know how they view the whole 'being pregnant before marriage' thing."

Desperation filled your gaze as you took his hand in yours, holding it tightly. "Just lie to them! Tell them we'll get married after sch—"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He took steps back from you, his voice rising. "I'm not getting married. I'm still young."

"And you won't! I said just lie." You pleaded with your eyes, hoping he would understand. "Just until they forget abo—"

"I'm not raising kids," he interrupted once again, his tone unwavering. "I applied for college just a week ago! I need to focus on my studies, I need to focus on my dreams. I don't have time to look after a fucking child. I've worked hard for this, and I'm not dropping anything in my last fucking year." He glared at you. "Get rid of it. I don't care how, just... get rid of it and don’t talk to me until you do so!" And with that, he walked away.

You had held onto the hope that he would console you, reassure you that everything would be alright. But instead, his departure left you with a sense of vulnerability and pain. The person who had vowed to stand by you had vanished when you needed him most. The person who drew stars around every scar you had, left you to bleed, alone.

Your sweet Aemond left you with a bigger scar. A scar that you weren’t sure if the stars would heal.

An hour ticked by, and you remained rooted in the same place, tears flowing freely, unchecked. Uncertainty gripped you; you felt lost. The thought of your parents discovering the truth filled you with dread. Their strict beliefs would likely lead them to demand that you keep the baby, only to give it away or face disownment. It was a future you didn't want. The idea of nurturing this life within you, only to have it taken away, was agonizing.

In the end, you sought refuge in the school bathroom, seeking the seclusion of one of the stalls. There, you let your tears flow, a torrent of emotions consuming you. It was only when your friend Qoren broke through the door that you found a lifeline, pulling you out of the depths of your despair.

"Y/n, don't make me break this door!" Qoren's voice echoed urgently, and an unexpected laughter bubbled out of you.

Wiping away your tears, you gazed at your reflection in the mirror for a brief moment, collecting yourself. You knew you had to bury these overwhelming emotions; you had no other choice. Your son's health was fragile; his heart was weak, and the last thing you wanted was to stress him. Protecting him from worry was paramount.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply, finding solace in the whispered reassurance you offered yourself. "I'm okay," you murmured, a quiet mantra, like a promise to both yourself and your sweet child.

You had intended to linger a bit longer, hoping to regain your composure, but as soon as you heard Luke's voice behind the door, an urgency propelled you to open it without delay.

"Mom! What happened? Are you okay?" Luke's worry spilled out as the door swung open. Your gaze flickered to Qoren first, who extended his hand to you immediately, guiding you out of the bathroom.

Glancing upwards, your eyes met Qoren's, his subtle shake of the head conveying a shared understanding.

"It's because of the doctor, is it not?" Luke's earnest eyes held yours once more.

Your breath caught in your throat as you formulated a response, the urge to shield your son from unease overpowering. "No, sweetheart, not because of that," you lied, masking your true emotions. "I'm just worried about you."

Unconvinced, Luke continued to study you. "I don't believe you."

Your reassurances faltered, and you stood, gently taking his small hand in yours, guiding him back to the bed. "It's true," you insisted, your voice bearing the weight of your sincerity. "He's a specialist, a heart surgeon. I've heard he only takes on serious cases, and it made me anxious."

"But I'm fine," Luke's voice held a note of certainty as he reassured you, his hand reaching out to clasp yours.

"We know, buddy," Qoren's presence offered additional comfort as he stood beside you, his arm enveloping your shoulders in a gesture of support. "But we still worry about you."

"Why did he walk away?"

"Perhaps he forgot something," you suggested.

"Yeah, like his stethoscope or something," Qoren added.

Luke surveyed the two of you for a contemplative moment before finally nodding.

Unable to resist the urge, you showered Luke's head with affectionate kisses before enveloping him in a tight embrace. "Hungry?" you inquired gently.

His next request pulled at your heartstrings. "Can I have a turkey sandwich?"

A soft chuckle escaped you, warmth filling your eyes. "Of course."

Glancing at Qoren, you exchanged a silent understanding, and with a nod, you indicated for him to step outside with you.

"I'll check with the doctor while you go grab something to eat from the cafeteria," Qoren suggested, his gaze on Luke. "Is it all right if you stays here alone for a little while?"

"Sure," Luke replied, his attention already shifting back to his iPad.

As you and Qoren stepped out, the door closing behind you, your apprehension spilled forth. "I don't want that fucker anywhere near my son," your voice was tense, carrying a hint of urgency that made Qoren look around nervously.

"We'll find another doctor," Qoren's voice was a soothing balm, his reassurance gentle. "There must be more skilled surgeons available. If you wish, we can even consider transferring him to another hospital. My father knows good doctors in Essos; we can explore that option. And please, don't worry about expenses—I'll take care of it all."

Gratitude swelled within you, your eyes misting over. He drew you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Come, let's go talk to the doctor," he urged softly.

Half an hour had slipped by, and Aemond remained confined within the hospital, in the bathroom in the surgeon's lounge. He couldn't bring himself to move, his body shaking too much to even get to his car and drive home. He sat on the bathroom floor, waiting anxiously for his sister Helaena to pick up the phone.

You…He saw you.

There you stood, a presence that seemed to pierce through his very being. The girl who had plagued his dreams, who had woven herself into every conscious moment and every corner of his mind. The girl he had fervently tried to erase, burying himself in the pages of books and the rigors of surgeries. For a decade, he had scoured the realms of social media, reached out to your parents, and maintained contact with your friends in the hopes of catching a glimpse of your existence. And now, here you were, finally in front of him. But he chose to walk away once more.

In truth, he had no choice but to leave. He couldn't ignore the pain etched in your eyes, the anger that radiated from you. He couldn't deny the depths of hurt that he had caused, nor could he offer any words that could possibly erase or atone for his actions.

Stupid Aemond... Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Regret and self-loathing coursed through his thoughts, a relentless self-critique that echoed within him. He recognized the depth of his mistake, the gravity of his choices. As he remained perched on the bathroom floor, he grappled with the weight of his own shortcomings, the realization of the missed opportunities and the pain he had caused.

Finally, as if an eternity had passed, Helaena's voice broke through the silence.

"What... What the hell do you w—gods, Aemond, are you crying?" Her voice trembled, faltering as it caught the rawness in his.

"...She's here..." Aemond's voice quivered, his words trembling on the precipice of his emotions. His eyes, blurred by the veil of his tears, bore a weight that seemed almost unbearable. "She... She's here, Helaena. I... I have a son."

There was a pause, a momentary silence on the other end of the line, as the gravity of his words began to unfurl. And then Helaena's voice, tinged with disbelief, spoke into his anguish. "Wait, wait, are you talking about... y/n?" Her words carried a mixture of confusion and shock. "She was in Dorne this whole ti—YOU HAVE A SON!"

Aemond's heart ached, a complex fusion of emotions waging a tempest within him. "I... She told me she had an abortion! She... She said she went through with it!" His grip on the phone faltered, and it tumbled from his hand to the floor, an emblem of his shattered resolve. "That was the last thing she said before she blocked me and disappeared."

The words hung heavily between them, a tapestry of regret and longing, of mistakes and missed chances. And then, Aemond's voice quivered with a tremor that seemed to encapsulate a lifetime of ache. "I know, Helaena. He's mine." His voice wavered, and in those words, a world of heartache was painted.

“ How do you know ?”

"He... He has my eyes, Helaena... purple eyes, just like mine. And his hair... He has our mother curls and a hint of silver “ The lump in his throat threatened to suffocate him, his words trembling on the brink of despair. "His nose, his lips... They're like mine."

But then, the dam broke. Aemond's voice cracked, and he was consumed by a tidal wave of sobs. "And he probably hates me... Just like I despised my father. Maybe he looks at me the way we once looked at Viserys."

In response, Helaena's voice was a soft anchor amidst the tumultuous sea of emotions. "You are not him, Aemond. You couldn't have known."

"I did," Aemond's voice quivered, his palm pressing against his chest as though to contain the shards of his own heart from shattering. "I knew... And yet, I asked her to get rid of him... I'm worse than Viserys."

"Have you talked to her?" Helaena's voice was a whisper, a thread of hope laced with a touch of reproach.

"No... I ran away," his admission was a painful whisper, an admission of his own inadequacy.

"Aemond..." Disappointment laced her voice, a mirror to the disappointment he felt in himself.

"What am I supposed to do?" The question held a pang of helplessness, a plea that seemed to stretch beyond the confines of words. "No matter what I say, it won't change anything. No matter what I do, I can't erase my past. I can't undo what's been done. I can't bring back y/n."

Helaena's response was a bittersweet echo, a reflection of truth and reconciliation. "You're right. You can't undo the past, and you won't get her back. But grant her the peace of mind by letting her know that you have suffered. Tell her you regret everything, that every breath is a reminder of the choices that drove her away. Tell her you're miserable, that life has lost its meaning, that the ambition you sought so tirelessly now rings hollow. She lost so much, Aemond. Her family, her dreams, her stability... she bore the weight of your absence alone. You won't get y/n, but you can at least do right by her ."

The dam within Aemond burst, his voice muffled by sobs"But I want her back. I want her to look at me again with those eyes that once held love."

There was a poignant pause "I'm afraid that won't happen, Aemond," her voice held a gentle sorrow, a reflection of the choices that had led them here. "You brought this upon yourself."

"Then what do I do, Helaena?" His voice was a fragile whisper, an echo of his vulnerability in its purest form. "Tell me, please."

"Go find her," her voice held a quiet resolve, a beacon of guidance through the haze of his pain. "Do what I told you. I'll book a flight, be with you in a few hours."

“Please hurry," Aemond's voice quivered with plea "Please, I need you."

"Gather yourself, Aemond," her voice was an anchor, a lifeline he desperately clung to. "Wash your face, and go."

And as the call ended, he was left alone with his shattered heart, the burden of his mistakes weighing heavily upon him. Struggling to his feet, Aemond rose from the cold bathroom floor, his hand clutching the sink for support. He gripped the faucet and let the frigid water flow, splashing it onto his face again and again in a desperate attempt to snap himself out of his overwhelming state. His gaze lingered on his own reflection in the mirror for a few moments, as if searching for answers that remained just out of reach.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the sink, leaving the lounge and heading towards his son room.

Standing behind lucerys room, Aemond gently knocked the door, his hand trembling and so is his breath and legs. Withe shakuy hand ge reach for the door handle and open it.

The room was empty, only his son in inside, Lucerys was looking at him up and down.

“ H..Hello, young man “ his lips trembled with each word leaving his mouth “ Where is your mother?”

Lucerys expression were that of disgust, but then he immediately turned them to neutral “ Cafeteria “

“ And.. and your ..father?” Those words that he forced out of his lips cuts him deep.

“ He was supposed to talk to you “ Lucerys let go of his ipad and flooded his arms in front of him.

“ Me?”

“ Yes you, aren’t you my heart doctor ? “ Lucerys raised his brows.

“ Ah. He must went to the pediatrician. And there has been some changes, so I’m not your doctor anymore “

Lucerys humm and looked him up and down before returning back to his ipad “ you should leave then “

Aemond looked at him for few minutes, swallowing thickly “ I .. Can I check on your heart ?”

“ sure “

Aemond nodded and hesitantly walked towards him, he got out his stethoscope and listened to his heart beat, it was irregular but there was no crackling sound so he was okay for now.

He then looked at his ancle and there was no swelling so he was safe and the danger of heart failure was not high.

“ You are fine, your heart is stable for now “ Aemond sadly smiled “ You will be alright “

Lucerys didn’t respond, he just put on his headphones and gave him a quick fake smile before paying attention to his ipad.

He took a step toward the door, a faint smile playing on his lips as he contemplated how much Lucerys resembled his uncle, Aegon. But as he moved to leave, something froze him in his tracks. His head snapped back toward the sound, eyes widening, and his throat tightened painfully.

"Qogralbar ao kepa, kirimvogon Jaes ziry geptot ao." ( Fuck you dad, thank god she left you )

Aemond turned back to face Lucerys, his expression a mix of shock and realization. His throat constricted, and his lips parted, but no words came forth.

"I’m not stupid, I have eyes and I can see the resemblance, I knew you looked familiar. Plus my mom’s behavior confirmed it all to me, crying over a silver head with eyes that look like mine? can’t she be more obvious. Not to mention that she is a terrible liar ” Luke shook and looked out the window for few minutes, “ You made her cry earlier, and if she sees you, she might cry again," his voice laced with determination as he returned to look at him "And I..." luke tilted his head, his young eyes locked onto Aemond's. "Don't like to see my mother cry. So get the fuck out and don’t you ever bother her again "

Aemond's heart weighed heavier than it ever had before, burdened by a sadness he had never known. His worst fears had materialized before him, unfolding like a nightmare he couldn't escape. In the story of Lucerys's life, he was cast as Viserys, and you, y/n, had become the haunting reflection of his own mother, Alicent. The parallels were undeniable, a stark reminder that history had a cruel way of repeating itself.

Yet, he knew, deep within, that he was not his father. He was not the same. He might not be able to win you back, but he was determined to be unlike the man who had hurt him and countless others. Just as Helaena had advised, he would give you the peace of mind you deserved, something his own mother had never found, not even in Viserys's final moments.

His voice trembled with regret as he whispered to Lucerys, "I'm sorry, kid. Forgive me." With those words, he left the room, his heart heavy with the weight of his past mistakes, and headed toward the cafeteria, where he would seek you out, hoping for a chance to make amends, even if he couldn't turn back time or erase his transgressions.

You stood in line at the bustling cafeteria, surrounded by a cacophony of chatter, clinking dishes, and the soft hum of refrigeration units. Your mind weighed heavily with the day's decisions, the uncertainty of your son's health, and the resurgence of someone you'd hoped to forget.

After leaving the doctor's office, you had meticulously sifted through profiles and recommendations until you found a new physician for Luke—Doctor Arthur Dayne. His impressive track record and friendly demeanor had reassured you.

Qoren had volunteered to stay behind, intent on gathering all necessary details about potential surgeries or treatments. It was a relief to know you had a friend who would shoulder some of the weight while you ventured to fetch a turkey sandwich for Luke.

Thoughts swirled like a tempest in your mind—Luke's health and the shadow it cast over his future, the practicalities of appointments and treatments, and, looming above all else, his fucking father.

the lady at the cafeteria counter snapped you out of your reverie with a cheery, "Hello, ma'am."

You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before responding, "Hi." Your voice carried a hint of distraction as you glanced at the menu. "I'll have a turkey sandwich, please. And could you cut it in half? Make one of them small."

The cafeteria worker nodded with practiced ease, jotting down your order before turning to assemble it.

You offered a small, reflexive smile but couldn't shake the heaviness that lingered within you. It was a weight you'd grown accustomed to, the burden of being a single parent facing life's uncertainties head-on.

While you waited, you couldn't help but contemplate your own well-being. You'd started to consider seeking therapy, recognizing that burying your feelings wouldn't help. You needed a way to express them, process the trauma, and find a path to healing.

"Here you go!" The cafeteria worker presented you with the bag, accompanied by a warm smile that momentarily lifted your spirits.

You reached into your purse to retrieve your wallet,"Thank you," you offered,

With your wallet safely back in your purse, you turned your attention to making your way through the cafeteria, eager to reunite with Luke. But as you moved, you accidentally bumped into a solid, warm form.

Looking up to apologize, your words caught in your throat as you realized who stood before you….

" Why did you tell me you had an abortion ? "

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My apologies if I forgot anyone.

— Next chapter we have a FIGHT

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen angst #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fanfic #prince aemond #modern aemond #hotd au #aemond au #modern helaena #helaena targaryen

[youaremyhome]

Pieces of the Night: Synapses Between the Stars

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 4.0K ya'll I cannot apologize enough for how long it's been! I won't bore you with the mess of my life but just know i am continuing this story with love and excitement. thank you to everyone who is still reading and for being patient with me!! love ya ❤️

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou@malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business@watersquirtpewpewboomm@magnificantmermaid@mk15x@abbybarnesstuff@lavenderhue@dirtytomatoedwrites @gothamlovr91 @skel-skell @hiddencurator @luvmatchamilktea

@palmwinemami @e-spexially

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

The threat lingers in the air like a bad odor. Your face scrunches up with more tears as you reluctantly nod. A child-like fear encapsulates over you, fingers slowly untwisting from his pants. Rafe’s half hard as you find comfort in his pacifying touches, his hands massaging down your scalp to the nape of your neck.

As much as he’d love to stay in this moment, the tackiness on his dick is uncomfortable so Rafe tucks it in with a zip. He urges you up, but you give a small wince. Rafe hums questioningly, following your eyes down to the trickle of blood at your right knee.

“Oh, Angel. You’ve hurt yourself.”

Directing you down in a chair, he parallels your descent into taking a knee before you. Your palms wipe clumsily at your soaked cheeks, skin irritated from the salt and constant rubbing.

A small shard of glass pokes from the hard base of your knee, embedded from the hardwood floors. Dark red borders the clear glass, tinting it an ombre of maroon as it spreads itself. Running a hand up the curve of your calf, his fingers knead at the fat and muscle there. With his other hand, he pinches his thumb and index together to pull the fingernail-sized glass out. It plinks on the table.

Rafe pouts up at you, jutting out his lower lip before kissing your shin right at the end of the blood trail where it fattens like a dew drop. The taste of your essence seeps through his lips and nourishes his soul. Flattening his tongue, he slides it up to the wound and leaves an imprinted bloody shape of his mouth there. He thinks of clowns, the ocean, anything to will his dick to stay down, the metallic aftertaste of you marinating all over his tastebuds.

You don’t flinch as Rafe cups your face, hiding it instead in the palm of his hand as you keep crying. You’ve never cried this long before and Rafe wonders if the surge of fluctuating hormones is to blame. Stroking the tears away with his thumbs, you two stay like that for a long moment. Rafe waits patiently until you're fully nestling into his touch, allowing him to lean in closer and smell the shampoo of your hair as it tickles his nose.

Though he does love your crying, the best part of it is the aftermath. Where your mind is drained from the climax of emotion, a shaky little thing made to be wrapped up and taken care of.

He coos your name with gentleness, with forgiveness. Kissing along your face to clean up your tears, your puffy lips are malleable against his. Pulling back with a small smile, he checks over your splotchy face. Squishing your cheeks together to purse your lips, he kisses you again. It's a mockery of a true kiss. Using your docile state to his benefit.

Carefully, Rafe stands up to lead you toward your bedroom. With one step, there’s a dull stab at the sole of his foot. Lifting his foot up and to the side, the yellow kitchen light reflects off the culprit. More glass. Flicking it off, he detours you to the couch instead, bundles you back up in blankets, and takes a step away. A pull to his shirt stops him.

You look like you hate yourself for asking in a hoarse voice, “Where’re you going?”

His chest swells. Rafe thumbs at the apple of your cheek. “Goin’ to clean up, baby. Relax now, alright?”

With an approving nod, Rafe starts to scan the floor. Following it like breadcrumbs in an exploding trail of broken glass, his gaze is led to the opposite wall stained dark with rivets collecting down to the baseboard. The water has mostly contained itself to the site of the explosion, glass escaping all the way into the dining room and under the table for refuge.

His rose-tinted hue mutes into stark colors of remembrance.

Of when he was little but always a big brother. Before Rose and when Wheezie was a baby, a time when it was only Ward. Hiding a smaller blonde before himself.

It’s like switching on LED lights, his serenity dissipates into a crumbling headache. Memories attempt to suppress him into the black hole he calls home for days on end, where the craving of something stronger blankets him. Rafe blinks rapidly and then searches for a dustpan. Sweeping is second nature to him, like an instinct he’s forgotten about because now a maid does it.

The twinkling of broken glass is a familiar sound and as all the pieces come back together so does a fear that there’ll be a figure imposing behind him. One that is stronger and angry about the mess. Jerking his head to the side, Rafe finds relief because there is no shadow looming over him, no deep bark of a voice to cower from.

It’s the back of your head. You, right where he left you. Waiting for him.  

He thinks you’ve fallen asleep from how quiet it’s been but when he rounds the corner of the couch you peek up from beneath the blanket. He can’t tell if the tug at his heart is from affection or shame. Propping your legs over his lap, he leans your head against his chest as his arms wrap around you.

It’s strange and silent. Your face is dry now, sniffling every so often as you tiredly cuddle him. Seeking comfort from the emotional edging he’s provoked today. Rafe rubs your arm and leg with periodic squeezing. Nose borrowing into your hair he pecks kisses there, a warm buzz tickles the tip of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe’s voice cracks. You feel breakable in his arms. “sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The front door closing wakes Rafe up in limbo. There’s a kink in his neck, warm with the weight of you on him. Multiple footsteps sound, coming closer until there’s a halt and hushing.

“Aw, look at them.” Is whispered before there’s a shuttering click.

“Andi, shut up, you’ll wake them.”

As the presence of your roommates’ fade and so does his consciousness, Rafe knows he’ll do anything to keep you like this.

🌙

The first day of spring break is unlike any other Rafe has ever experienced.

Last year this time, he was in his family’s house in the Bahamas with endless coke and flowing booze, and dozens of college kids roamed free in the sprawling mansion. Now, he’s with Ward going over the plans of construction and the partners included.

And oh, isn’t it a delicious surprise to be standing in front of your father. Shaking his hand with a professional smile. The same one he used a day before to shake his fingers into your soaking cunt, making you squirt for the first time. It was the best parting gift you could’ve given him.

Did you know your father would be here?

“Rafe…” Your father’s eyes shine with slight recognition. “You have class with my daughter, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I do. She’s a very smart girl.”

Rafe knows it’s not the right time to indulge how well he knows you, so he lets the topic slip past. He scrutinizes your father in the initial meeting between the three of them. He speaks highly of his work, the people he’s worked with, and his family. A soft confidence that doesn’t command respect but receives it naturally. Ward boasts about the many properties he owns on the island, how he’s benefited the community and the people that look up to him, calls Rafe his ‘right-hand man’. It annoyingly pleases Rafe, even if this is the first major project Ward’s let him in on.

Presenting himself with respect to your dad is a top priority. Uses his good ol’ southern charm.  Shows obedience while inserting his ideas in meetings, makes nauseating small talk during lunches. Throughout the week, Rafe homes in on impressing your father while his own falls into the background. Once prayed-for compliments from Ward are forgotten words now that your father laughs at his jokes, slaps his shoulder in comradery. After too many, sirs and Mr.’s your dad insists that Rafe call him by his college old nickname, Cruiser.

He almost can’t believe how good the week goes. Rafe stays (mostly) sober. Ward doesn’t belittle him. Your father announces that he’ll be staying in the OBX for the summer.

That little tidbit doesn’t reveal itself until the end when Ward schedules a tee time to celebrate the success of a good partnership.

Weak rays of the morning sun cast long shadows. The humidity gathering warns of warmer weather later, giving the perfect excuse to hydrate with beer. It’s all play and no business. Your father is a chatty man as Rafe lines up with his club to the ball.

They’re on the 8th hole and Rafe has a good buzz, enjoying the game. The times he’s played with his dad in the past had been riddled with competitiveness, dampening the mood each time. Your dad absorbs that attention as he’s been parring better than Ward. It's entertaining to watch Ward struggle to trap down that ugly streak. Rafe could care less about scores and the like, he appreciates that Cruiser personally invited him to play with them.

“…Lauren’ll be off somewhere doing whatever. Wife’s excited to come back,” Cruiser takes a pull of beer and says your name, “She’s so busy with school I haven’t had much chance to ask her.”

Rafe’s ears twitch. Widening his feet again, he arcs the club up slow…

“But I think she’ll enjoy the summer here.”

The twitch in his shoulders is to blame for the bad shot, hitting the ball too high and not far enough.

Rafe mutters a swear into his shoulder, wiping his chin there. He steps away with a casual shrug, switching with Ward to stand next to your dad.

“So, uh…ya’ll be here for the whole summer or until the projects finished?”

“I like to stick around until the project's done.” Rafe becomes conscious of the fact he’s staring at him when Cruiser side-eyes Rafe. “Not too sure what her plans are after graduation, but it’ll be nice to have her here for a bit.”

Ward butts in. “And the Mrs. okay with it? What about her job?”

“Oh, Cotton doesn’t work.” Cruiser only refers to his wife as Cotton. And here Rafe thought his family had weird names. “We’ve been doing this sorta thing for about ten years now. She likes it. Seeing the country with my girls is my favorite time of the year.”

“Hm.” Ward’s eyes gleam with longing. “Wish my daughters took more interest in hanging out with me.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer to hide it. It’s a practiced move he’s learned to perfect over the years. He can’t prod into the subject of you now with Ward sugaring it up into parenthood.

“How’d ya’ll meet?” Rafe asks with strained politeness.

“In undergrad through mutual friends. She was the sweetest thing to everyone but wouldn’t give me the time of day.” Cruiser laughs heartily.

“Playin’ hard to get,” Ward jabs in.

Your dad shakes his head, laughter tailing off into a scoff. Rafe doesn’t think Ward notices the dismissal, too busy dicking around with practice swings. “Just had to prove myself to her…”

Ward gets a nice shot in, staying in his pose as he watches the ball sail and then land in a sand pit. Rafe would’ve laughed if his interest wasn’t already pinned somewhere else.

“How’d you do that?” Rafe asks as he adjusts his cap.

Ward cocks his head in Rafe’s direction with an inquisitive eye as he steps away from the tee. Cruiser goes to his golf bag, skimming around the many clubs. He carries himself with loose movements and talks as he decides on which club to use.

“I could tell you all sorts of things, son.” Sliding one out, he gives it a short toss-up in the air then catches it. “Most important of them: compromise.”

“Compromise?”

Is he sure he wants to get dating advice from your father?

“All there’s to it. That simple.” He confirms, correcting the white ball to stay on the tee. With ease he lines himself up, stance relaxed with loose hands. “I’m from the east coast, wife’s from the middle of the Midwest. So, after graduation, we stayed in California. That’s compromise.”

He takes a few faux swings, whistling a tune like Rafe isn’t hanging off his every word. Cruiser sways his hips playfully as he says, “You shift from one side to the other until…”

The strike of the ball is unexpected, soaring into an arc surpassing Wards. The ball bounces twice on the green, yards away from the hole.  

“Balance.”

🌙

You’re wearing a skirt today. It makes Rafe's jaw tick.

Once the weather started warming with the southern sun, you had worn a skirt to class. A modest thing just above your knees and plain, paired with a light sweater. How did you not expect Rafe to concentrate solely on it throughout class? To walk his fingers on your bare thigh, hook his knuckles to tug at the fabric. It wasn’t his fault that it fits you so perfectly with a flouncy hem and fitted waist. Every guy loved those kinds of skirts on girls, coy and causally hot. How could he resist such a sight?

But ever since that one instance, you hadn’t worn it since, not until now. Not until he skipped class because he arrived home late from Kildare and texted you that he wouldn’t be there to walk you to and from class.

He’s glad he changed his mind.

Catching a glimpse of you unguarded is rare nowadays. Sometimes, Rafe just likes to look. Look at the way your hair slips down, look at how your face wrinkles with your animated expressions. You make it hard to just look when you know he is. You morph into a rabbit, frozen with the instincts that a predator is watching. Still but poised to run.

Now, your shoulders are down with a smile as you exit the lecture hall with two girls. The skirt bounces with each step, a lively flap against your thighs.

“Hi, baby.”

The soft greeting has you drawn to a stop as Rafe slinks into your path, hidden by the stone pillar that leads into a small courtyard between halls. You’re flanked by the girls, overlapping chatter halting into one note.

“…Hi.”

It’s halfhearted but your voice is so much sweeter in person than over the phone. He recognizes the girls from the lecture. It seems like you’ve made friends in his absence. The three of you do that secret language of girl eye contact, one nudging you with a smile before they’re both bidding goodbyes, walking off without you.

Rafe likes you doe-eyed and alone. Lips chapped from the morning wind. You stand a foot away like you’ve been melded into the concrete.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, o’course. I like your skirt.”

Rafe reaches out, tugging on the end of your skirt towards him with a melted smirk. Your resistance raises the hem, more skin bared as the skirt becomes more horizontal than vertical. The arousal in him amplifies as he pulls and pulls, your feet tripping twice as you’re forced into his space. He ends your cute protests with a kiss, lips warm against yours. The return of pressure from your lips thrills him.

“How was your spring break?” The ‘without me’ is swallowed down.  

“You should know…you only called me every day.” Tilting your head, your face is flat except for the tiny pull at the corner of your mouth.

Rafe kisses it, humming into your skin hoping to transfer the static that’s in his veins back to you. He pats small kisses over to your lips while one hand cups the side of your neck as the other scoops under the strap of your backpack, sliding it down your shoulder. Taking your backpack after class had become a habit born from preventing you from escaping. He slangs it on his shoulder to then intertwine his hands with yours. The ability to lock you in is a bonus.

“Is that so bad?”

“Y–”

“Aren’t you goin’ to ask ‘bout mine?”

You sigh. “How was your break, Rafe?”

“Oh, thank you for asking Angel. It was great. Saw old friends, surfed a bit.” Rafe watches your eyes glaze over to the left. “Met your dad.”

Your hand spasms in his. Your eyes snap back into place. It isn’t surprise or shock or unknown information you’ve been granted to coloring your face. It’s the dawning light of a premonition come true.

“You knew.”

Rafe’s voice is tight. The unexpected indigitation that flames his chest hurts more than burns. He anticipated this. Why he didn’t tell you over the phone about it, waited until he was face to face. You weren’t the best liar with his eyes pinned on you. His fingers mirror yours with strength until a whimper’s trapped behind your lips.  

“Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “I knew.”

“Any reason you didn’t tell me?”

“Many.”

“Cut the shit,” Rafe says your name with severity.

You puff out with annoyance that’s mounting to match his. Students pass by, rounding around the blockade you form on the sidewalk. One does a double take at Rafe’s curse. Grunting, he turns and marches into the empty courtyard towing you behind.

He should drop it. Wait until after he fucks you to bring it up.

But you knew.

A nag he should ignore eats at him until there’s only anger and hurtful pride. You’re still looking for a way out.

Snatching your hand away, you growl back at him with shoulders rising to your ears. Arms crossed at your chest and feet shuffle in place. Rafe ranks nails against his scalp, eyes ping-ponging along your face.

“This why you were a brat before I left?”

After the argument and the weeks leading up to spring break, you had continued questioning about Ward and his work. An anxious energy you radiated as it came closer. Rafe pegged you excited about him leaving.

The flick of your head to the side is the only verification he needs. You were expectant of their reunion.

“You didn’t…” You bite your lip. “Say anything to him, right?”

“No, I didn’t. Cause you’re gonna tell him.”

Your eyes widen until your lashes are practically in your eyebrows. Throwing your arms out to the side with closed fists, you lean with a shout. “Like the fuck I am.”

Rafe pitches your backpack behind him. Tension knots at the base of his neck, dragging a hand to roughly rub at it.

He keeps his voice flat. “When we go to Kildare, you can tell him yourself.”

“Oh-ho,” Your laughter is short and biting. “I am not going back there.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And you're so sure of this? How?” Your hip juts to the side, a hand propping on there to anchor yourself.

“Cause of that cute lil’ family tradition you got there.”

Your hand flips around, waving his sentence away. “I am a grown-ass person, Rafe. I can do whatever I want! And I want – I’m going back to California.”

You shake your head, the heel of your hand presses at your brow, blocking your vision. Rafe moves. Feet quiet on the concrete as he creeps closer.

“No, ya ain’t.” He seethes.

“I’m going back home after graduation! I’m never setting a foot back in this goddamn state!” You thrust a finger at him, inches from his chest. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Yes, the fuck you are. Or im gonna have to show everyone those pictures –”

The squeal abrupts from you, high pitched and echoing. “I don’t care! I don’t care anymore! Show whoever you want. I’ll be far away from you anyways.”

Rafe grits his teeth, molars threatening to grind into dust. Tilting his head up and shoulders down, he fights for eye contact as he works his jaw.

“And I don’t care what I have to do to fucking keep you.”

“I’m not some stray you can scoop up and lock in a cage.” Eyes narrowed and lip curled up, you push at his shoulder.

“Hm, a cage. That’s a good idea, baby.”

Lips thin in a tight line, he taps your check twice. He can’t help the dark amusement that tickles him when you jump in your skin, arms lashing out awkwardly.  

“Argh! You are so insufferable. After graduation you are never seeing me again, I promise you that Rafe.”

“Either you go with me, or I go with you.” Rafe starts circling you. Board body casting a shadow over you at every angle. You stay in place but swivel your head around to keep him in your sight. An airy touch of his hand has you flinching, him smiling. “You really want to be alone with me on the other side of the country? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re goin’ to be working.” Your mouth gapes open. “Your dad will-“

“What, what? What will my dad do, Angel? You don’t know my dad. I can have him postpone this construction for fuckin’ months, years. Bleed your dad fuckin’ dry –”

“You can’t do shit. Your little power here doesn’t reach everywhere, neither does your dads.”

“You don’t know what my dad is capable of.” Rafe pokes his finger at your collarbone. “Clearly, you don’t understand what I’m capable of. Think of your sister, how would she feel if she can’t use daddy’s money to travel anymore?”

“You can’t –”

“Your dad loves his job so much, you really gonna take that away from him? Ruin your parents’ marriage? And your poor mom…”

Shoulders bounce against one another as you whirl as you growl. “Don’t talk about my mom.”

“Her sensitive little heart would be destroyed with all that grief.”

Rafe saturates you with too many words, too many worries to catch up to any of them. Circling again to face you, he twists his fist into your skirt. Hauls you closer until the hem’s dangerously high, giving him a glance at your black panties.

You squeak out his name, one hand on his bulging forearm as the other struggles to lower your skirt back down.

“I can take you right here. I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees me.” His hand dips to the inviting black curtain. Finger creasing between your seam, Rafe rubs it back and forth. “And I’d get away with it.”

Your chin wavers with failed words, body taunt from leaning back. A moment of silence as his promises solidify in your mind. A breath away from crumbling

Fists strike on his chest, a snarling show of teeth as you curse and fight in his hold. Calling him every name under the sun. A tantrum if he’s ever seen one. Your knee hits his thigh, missing your true target of his groin so Rafe spins you, bear hugging you in restraint.

“Pick one.” Rafe hisses in your ear, forehead pressed to your temple. “California or Outer banks.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’d drag you down with me.” He chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear.

Your head knocks at his chin as you give another thrash. Breathing compressed with his hold, you tire in mere minutes.

“Fuck!” A final shout. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Mm, go where?” The teasing tilt rolls off with victory.

“I’ll go to Outer Banks with you, you fucking prick.” Rafe loosens his arms just so, allowing you to twirl away with a heaving chest. Cheeks red and pointing a finger at him. “Until the end of the summer.”

Rafe scoffs, tapping at his chest. “Until I say.”

“When the jobs done.”

“Six months.”

“Deal.”

Both of you sigh rough and loud. Rafe feels a vein in his neck pulse with each luh-dub of his heart. Cracking his neck to the side frees a smile from him.

“See, sweetheart, I knew we’d be able to compromise.”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #dark!fic #outer banks fic #pieces of the night #smut #tw #outer banks smut #dark fic

[vnards]

GhostABO pt3

The shuffle of the medics around me lulls me into a tired dissociation. It doesn’t require me to answer any more questions, allows me to just breathe for a moment that I’ve left that cold room behind. It takes me even longer to believe that I’m not going back there. A belief with no promise, but a belief nonetheless.

There a sudden stop in conversation around me between the two and I look up for the disruption, noticing a new shadow in the room. His weight shifting nervously, awkward, as he holds two to-go plates of food in his hands. The alpha named Ghost. The beta nurse named Jacob doesn’t miss a beat, “I’m glad you’ve found us, Lieutenant. We just finished up here and V was just about to get some rest.”

Ghost steps forward, into the room, his eyes finding his way back to me as he situates the plate of food at my bedside table. The situation seems to parallel itself from earlier, the doctor falling into the background as Jacob maneuvers a mine field of its own. Ghost grunts something to him, his voice a reflection of the man himself, he turns his attention to me, his hands idly clenching in a bundle of nerves. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.” He refers to the plate he’s delivered and it’s a normal plate of chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy. Smells decent enough, but it’s nothing fancy, the closest thing to a meal I’ve seen in weeks. “You should eat.” He orders.

I’m too tired to fight him, telling me what to do. My stomach clenching with hunger and famine. I situate the plate in front of me, turning my attention to stabbing at the chicken as I begin to eat. The simplicity of food made with care and attention instead of leftovers and scraps.

Lieutenant Major Mercy turns to Ghost and summaries my initial exam quick and efficiently. “She should get some rest, Lieutenant. You can come back after she’s eaten and well rested.” Ghost knows he’s being asked to leave her, and a rumble begins in his chest at the thought of leaving, but he thinks again and knows she’s right.

He gives in, but he lingers. Trying to find a reason, any reason, to stay for a moment longer. When he’s unable to come up with anything, he relents, “Of course,” he begins to blend back into the background. There are no words as the other alpha begins to gently lead him out to the hallway. He doesn’t know what to say to her. So he says nothing at all.

The medic closes the door behind her, leaving V alone. Leaving her alone to rest. A thought he tries to keep in mind.

Mercy prompts Ghost, not letting the boogieman dictate the interaction, “Should I be contacting Captain Price or you about our guest.” Mine. The thought comes loud and suddenly, surprising even if the sentiment feels right.

“Directly to me.” The medic nods, taking the clipboard with the omega’s information and walking down the hall to leave Simon by himself in the hallway, the occasional person or couple moving passed him, careful to avoid his space, but looking,-watching the grim reaper out of his natural habitat. Never down here anymore than necessary. He can’t find it in him to move. So he lingers. Lingers outside her door, not wanting to go too far in case she needs something. In case she calls for him.

And something about that thought makes him perch outside her door. He finds a comfort knowing that she is eating. Finally acknowledging his own hunger and the plate of food in front of him. He eats by himself in the hallway outside the omega’s door, but there’s a whisper for a thought that finds a familiarity by eating with her. A connection Simon isn’t ready to dive deep into yet, with the want that lays under his skin. He eats in silence.

next part ->

#cod omegaverse #ghost cod #a/b/o #simon ghost riley #slow burn #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #hurt/comfort #alpha!ghost #abo tf 141 #vnardshoard

[raayllum]

2x06 in one of the flashback scenes during Harrow’s letter he watches Callum and Ez playing together in the courtyard. After Ezran is hurt Callum immediately tosses his sword aside and kneels down to take his hand with a concerned face. It reminded me of the last scene in 4x09 with Callum tossing Rayla’s blade aside and grabbing her hand with a similar expression. I might be going crazy lol but I just thought it was neat

Absolutely fucking fantastic catch, nonnie!! Callum&Rayla and Callum&Ezran tend to have the most specific parallels in a lot of ways, since they’re Callum’s two pillars and the most important people in the world to him - so throwing down a blade to help someone else, and someone you’ve hurt (intentionally or through trying to protect yourself) is a great reflection of Callum’s humility in the aftermath of losing his temper with Ez, or how he slowly is able to let Rayla back in over the course of S4 and also begin reaching out to her again. And part of this is, of course, that in order to end the Cycle, someone has to put their weapon down first (and not strike even though they can)

I’ve wanted to write a thing about the 4x09 scene in particular just because there’s so much?? there?? Like Holy Shit

Like first, you have Callum dropping to his knees as though at an altar, and whenever a TDP character kneels it’s almost always associated with desperation and/or Death, in this case both, so that’s loaded (as well as Aaravos being the only other character to bring Callum to his knees this season, in 4x04), on top of “dropping to your knees” being body language code for “I’m fucking devastated right now” in-show and out

Then you have Callum dropping Ibis’ staff. This is three fold because 

1) the last time the staff was dropped in that manner, it was because Ibis had just been stabbed 

2) Callum had a whole scene earlier in the season about how much the staff mattered to him (even if it’s also mitigated) and that it “means a lot” and yet he discards it now to pick up and cradle Rayla’s blade to his chest

3) Callum dropping the staff also communicates his willingness to finally take a lot of his walls regarding Rayla down and to stop using magic as a crutch to avoid what he’s feeling about her, the way he previously has all season long

And we haven’t even talked about the blade yet, which, Oh My God

Like, the symbolism alone of Rayla running after Viren with only one of her blades - least prepared she’s ever been, literally off-kilter, and Callum then having her other blade (her other half) as he cradles it in his hands. And he holds it the way Harrow held Sarai’s crown after her actual death, after he watched her leave to go after Viren 11 years prior

Rayla’s blades are what she uses to defend herself, what she uses to carry out her mission, something precious to her because of the agency they give her and the fact they were made for her by Ethari and she was trained to use them by Runaan. And in this moment, the singular blade is all Callum thinks he has left of Rayla, so he cradles it to his chest, much like what he did with her other goodbye gift of the moon opal pendant (also passed down by her fathers)

So the blade is more important to him than Ibis’ staff. It’s precious, much like the moon opal (rare, and also magical). But, just like the pendant, the memory of her isn’t enough. He will always pick her over any keepsake or any possibility of not having her in his life. 

He values her over the staff (magic), over her memory / mission (the blade) and then runs to her, tossing away the blade to hold her with both hands, letting her know he’s there and he’s not going anywhere, after a season of her reaching out to him, he finally reaches back and then doesn’t let go, touching her shoulder and then embracing her outright (finally). 

Which is doubly meaningful, I think, because they don’t do the double hand hold clasp often. Callum does it once when he’s lifting Rayla out of her self hate spiral in 3x04, and Rayla holds his hand in both of hers when she promises to leave together in TTM, so this is a full circle in more ways than one, I think, which is really lovely.

And like - Callum tossing the Symbol of her Mission away to run to her will never not give me all the feelings, tbh.

#thanks for asking #anonymous #tdp #the dragon prince #two pillars #rayllum #tdp meta #requests #analysis series #analysis #2x06 #s2 #parallels #s4 #4x09 #brotp: we're in this together

[nelapanela94]

Nela! Congrats on your 1k event! May I start with some fluff?! 3 and 13 combo sound like an interesting duo! One that would leave you with butterflies :)

Elizaaaaa!!!!

Thank you again!!!!

Here’s the dose of fluff we crave.

TW: Fluff, depiction of injuries

WC: 1.5k

1. “I can’t think straight with you!"

2. “I’d build you a palace.”

***

Sluggishly, Levi opens his eyes through the milky veil of sleepiness and weariness, a deep growl wrenching out from his chest, churning his dry throat. All the gears in his body creak back in place, muscles sore and strained, and his left side stabbing with pain. He smiles when the image clears and the first thing he sees is your face.

He winces at the burning sting sinking into the cradle of his elbow, and then comes your tinkling, soothing voice 'Don't move you, ass. You were injured in battle."

And that's when the large room smooths its edges and corners, rattling and agitated with nurses scuttling from beds to trays to the laundry rooms, the smell of alcohol, bleach and blood wafting in the air. So, this is how it feels like to be on the other end.

There's a first time for everything, isn't there?

The dull throb keeps him tethered in bed.

The last he remembers he was riding his horse, smoke signals blasting and swooshing above him, but against the bleak stage tarnished in gray, the colors were indistinguishable. Rain slashed down melted the roads. Sinewy drops hammered against his shoulders and back, holding a shroud through which you could only see death’s expectant eyes. He heard the shouting and cries, two new recruits he knew well. It was their first expedition. He closed his eyes and saw them, and had to make sure it wasn’t their last.

Whatever you put in him is making everything wobbly. The pain falters, and reality skid out of focus. He feels light, floating, adrift. No worries; no agonies.

A weak smile tugs one corner of his lips as he watches you. “You’re beautiful.”

Creases on your forehead pull up your brows in a grimace.

“Shut up!” You blush hard and avert the eyes, scratching an itch under you jaw, the way you do when you’re nervous. You turn to the tray and rummage for a pair of scissors and roll the sheets at his hips. From the hem of the sleeves, you shear his light blue button up, then another cut parallel to the buttons.

“That was my favorite.” He rasps, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Why do you wear your favorite shirt for an expedition?”

“Admit you just want to see me naked.” He scoffs, and the sting of derisive stares pinch your back. Your peers glance at you, teasing stares and stifled giggles.

“I’m stitching your mouth.”

You remove the torn fabric, dispose it on a bucket standing by your feet, then unbuckle his pants to grant full access to the slash. and damn it, he’s so well built, muscles taut all the way down where the V and a sparse flare of hair dip under the elastic of his briefs. An army of ants march under your cheeks, and you swallow, pouring water to the fire stoked by your rebel hormones. You bite your lips and focus on your job, to clean the wound and make sure this jerk stays alive. Humanity depending on you right now.

“Kiss me instead.” He blurts, rolling his head from side to side on the pillow.

He keeps crossing back and forth the bridge of consciousness.

Through slivered open eyes, he traces the line of your forehead, curving at your nose, your brows knitted in concentration. Your lips juicy in calla Lilly pink.

He feels the needle and thread crawling through, making the two sides of skin re-encounter, the cells in each edge asking the other ‘where were you?’, adding another scar to the record. He wants to reach out and touch you, but his brain cells and nerve endings are on strike under the blurring medication.

Nonsense drips from his mouth, about princes and princesses and fairy-tales he’s never read but heard you babbling about passionately while your nimble hands fix him. Grunting, he closes his eyes and smiles, the cleansing solution running down in rivulets on his skin, washing away blood and sanies, as you gingerly swab him dry with a piece gauze.

He hates this unfamiliar feeling of being vanquished by the inexplicable urge to act on irrational and secret desires. Whatever is coming out of his mouth, he hopes, it's not cringey; he has an image to maintain.

"I'd build you a palace," he spews, and inwardly curses for the crap that wrings out of his mouth. "You and I and our kids... have a date with me."

Your face is charring in bright red, fueled by the tittering of other nurses and winks from the injured soldiers.

"Say yes, Y/N." They cheer.

You wish you could turn into an ostrich and dig your head deep in the ground.

At this point more sedation would be harmful.

You shake your head and exhale a long sigh, apply ointments on the little cuts and bruises and dress the minor injuries in bandages.

He sees you dancing in the low light, coming closer, smiling at him and pushing your devilish grin against his mouth, his hands lacing with yours; you making him bold and naive in a single kiss. You dismantle his defenses, consume him and calm him all at once.

Eventually, he falls asleep, his features relaxed to the slumber, like a little boy's after an evening consuming his energy at the playground.

*

"Uh?" He blinks twice when he opens the door, flicking his eyes over you with disdain. That dress suits you, your hair falling over your shoulders wildly, not gathered in a bun under a bonnet. "What do you want? I'm busy now."

"On what?" You raise a brow, your hands clasped behind your back, sheepishly. "I've heard you're off duty for two weeks."

"tch."

"You asked me on a date."

"Cut the crap."

You chuckle and push past him, invading his office. "Don't tell me you forgot the scene you pull out at the infirmary."

"What the fuck you talking about?" He gulps, and rubs his sweaty hands on his shirt as he follows.

"You and I having kids, living in a palace, something like that."

"I never said that," he growls and sinks into the couch, pouting, his arms folded over his chest as you pour tea for two.

"There were plenty of witnesses, Levi. The whole ward heard your groggy pathetic confession."

The winks, the beer-clanks, the shoulder pats, it all twines into realization.

Irritation coils in his guts. His fists are clenched like iron balls, plunging into the smooth cushions.

"What about you?" he barks, and drops of chai tea smear tadpoles on the coffee table. "Those clumsy fingers of you,” he snaps.

"This clumsy fingers patched you up." You scowl, and thump the mugs on the refurbished wood. Leather screeches under you. "Asshole. Are you feeling well?"

He looks away, like a grounded boy, and mutters, "thanks. And yes, I heal fast."

You scratch your neck and clear your throat, a bead of cold sweat running down behind your ears. You tear off the death skin of your lips and bring your hands down to your lap. "Do you really... like me?" Tugging at the hem of your dress, you coyly ask, and immediately regret it. You stand at the verge of crying, rub your nose, turn your face away.

Levi frowns, and his tongue twists, delving into for the right words, or at least not destructive ones.

“It’s just…” his teeth rake over his bottom lip, his cheeks incandescent with chagrin. Fuck. He’d rather be fighting titans right now.

“If you want me to, I’ll leave you alone.” You stand and smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“Wait!” His hand grasps yours pleadingly, and he looks up, lips parted. Your gazes intertwine.

“Whatever it is just say it.” You purr serenely. Your head tilts to the side by a fraction, and your eyes slip to your locked hands. He squeezes harder.

“It’s you.”

“Me?” Your perplexed eyes crash with his trembling ones.

“Yes. You.” He lowers his head, and tucks his free hand, set into a fist, against his forehead, clenching his eyes tight in a miserable attempt to get his words right. And he explodes, making the mugs rattle as he smacks his fist onto the table. “I can’t think straight with you!”

It wasn’t the downers.

They just knocked down his walls.

Bewildered, you stare at him, and your grimace becomes a giddy smile that evolves to a blast of laugh. And it’s too late for him to pick up the pieces scattered all over the place. Shameful. It just happened, and it’s too late to draw his hand out of the fire unscathed.

Embarrassed, he ducks his head and sighs, fighting the urge to slap his face and kill the obnoxious tingling in his cheeks.

“You silly.” You extricate from him and rush to the door, giggling, before his eyes catch you.

“Stay.” He groans to his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets, defeated.

With your hand on the knob, you look over your shoulder. “You want me to stay?”

He smiles and nudges his chin to the coffee table. “It’d be a waste of good tea.”

#Levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman/reader #levi ackerman/you #Levi ackerman attack on titan #levi aot #levi attack on titan #aot #attack on titan #snk #snk levi #aot Levi #Levi ackerman fic #Levi ackerman x y/n

[internetmisfitsworld]

Man, I feel bad for Soap fans.

Imagine your fav character being offed in such terrible way compared to the old ones. 💀

The thing is, it was never about not wanting him to die. I think almost every Soap fans are aware of the possibility of him dying again and most of them are accepting of it.

The problem was how he died.

I know that scene parallels with Yuri saving Price from Makarov but the way I see it, it's a mix with when Soap and Price was throwing hands with Shepherd.

For starter, it's utterly insane how OG Soap managed to yeet a knife with god-like precision at Shepherd's eye, all while suffering from a stab wound in the chest.

In the reboot, Soap went for Makarov's shoulder.... instead of his neck? Like I get that he was probably dazed from getting shot in his right shoulder, but come on man 😭 compared THAT to the OG? They made him look incompetent.

Are you really telling me that this man, who for the entirety of the game, went into rage mode whenever Makarov was mentioned, doesn't went for his neck when he's about to stab him??

Hell, even on Verdansk flashback, that man really threw his ass on the floor of the helicopter, ready to end his life right then and there. Is this really the same man??

On god, I'm surprised Soap doesn't just tackled him on the ground and went berzerk on him. Also, what was Makarov's men were doing when Soap went sneak attack on him?

"Oh he did just tell his men to back off and let him handle Price and Soap alone and so obviously they should follow his order even if said enemy was about stab him to death :D". How noble. So technically, Soap would've been dead the moment he rise from the ground and wouldn't even get the chance to lift his knife and Price would be dead :D.

So yeah, it's understandable why people reacted the way they did. They made reboot Soap so amateurish with the way he aim that knife (dude was SAS ffs) AND they killed him off in a horrible way.

Basically, that whole scene just feels odd.

#call of duty soap mactavish #call of duty soap #soap mactavish #john mactavish #john “soap” mactavish #modern warfare soap #modern warfare soap mactavish #i'm not even soap girlie but i understand yall pain

[naavispider]

Chapter 14 - If you playing me that mean my home aint home

The support on this fic has been so amazing I'm a puddle of gratitude 😭 I never, ever expected it to take off the way it has, and have really become attached to it.

There he lay, dead on the ground, eyes open and blood gently seeping from his chest.

"Get over here, now!" Quaritch called, anger like venom in his voice.

Spider couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything, only stare. Quaritch was shouting furiously but Spider couldn't hear him. Next thing he knew, Quaritch was on him, pulling him away from the body towards the other recoms, where Mansk was lying on the ground, panting heavily to control the pain in his leg.

"No!" Spider shouted, pushing and pulling against Quaritch's grip. There was no way he was going anywhere with him. "Get off me!" he screamed, a sob finally breaking through his shock. "You killed him- You killed him-" he fought desperately to run from Quaritch's grip. He needed to be anywhere but here. Quaritch didn't say anything - he wasn't defending himself as he grabbed Spider's hands in one of his and roughly slapped on the red bindings again.

Spider sobbed in misery, falling to the floor - there was nothing else he could do.

The rest of the recoms were gathered over Mansk, anxiously assessing the situation and trying to help. Savine looked dead herself as she rummaged through the trauma kit, looking for something to stem the bleeding. Wainfleet was tying a tourniquet around Mansk's thigh, and Fike was injecting some kind of liquid into the skin around the wound. Quaritch left Spider on the ground and called into his communicator.

"Delta one, this is Romeo troop, over."

"Romeo troop, send your traffic," Spider heard in his earpiece.

"We require an immediate medical extraction. Mansk is down with a class 4 penetrative stab wound."

"What's your pos?"

"Sector 21, 51.5033° N, 0.1196° W."

"Stand by for extraction."

Quaritch moved over to Mansk and Spider panicked. Were they going back to base? No. He wouldn't.

He rose slowly, not caring about being seen, not caring if he'd get far. All he knew was that he couldn't stand another minute with the RDA. With Quaritch.

He bolted.

He had never ran so fast in his life. His breath burned as he flew through the forest, leaping over fallen logs, octoshrooms, boulders, roots and vines, pitcher plants; all of it a blur. He almost lost his balance with his hands tied but by some miracle managed to keep himself upright and travelling forwards at a pace he was sure he'd never reached before. It felt like his body was going too fast for his brain to keep up - surely he'd stumble soon? The recoms would catch up and he'd be shipped off back to the General and her death machine. It wasn't happening. Ignoring the raging stitch in his side he screamed as he pushed himself on.

He had no idea where he was going. He arrived suddenly at a creek which was too wide for him to jump, and too steep on the other side to scramble up. He veered right and started running parallel along its bank.

Terror tore at his insides as he heard shouting from behind him. His scream caught in his throat - it was Quaritch, in pursuit. How far behind him he was, Spider had no idea. His legs burned as he leapt over the forest debris; stones, rocks, spines and roots all abused his bare feet as he ducked under branches and vines, running through them without time to properly avoid them.

"Spider!"

Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God. Quaritch must be 30 or 40 yards behind. Spider knew he would eventually out-run him. He was only human. Sheer panic drove him on. He looked around as he ran, eyes wild, desperately searching for somewhere to hide. He was too terrified to stop though. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Seconds later, the creek seemed to widen and the bank on the other side looked less steep - now was his chance. Jumping the 10 or so feet down into the stream without caring whether he hurt himself, he landed in the wet, immediately screwing his ankle.

He couldn't hear anyone calling him anymore - had Quaritch given up? As soon as he thought it, Spider knew that was crazy. Blinded by his terror, he dragged his body up the other side of the bank and all pain from his ankle radiated away with renewed adrenaline. He was still going. It was difficult with his hands tied but he managed to clear the bank and then he was up, only now he realised how painful his breathing was becoming, how his legs ached - they could barely support him anymore.

Spider thought of the Na'vi man's face just before he died - the resolute way he had understood and agreed to help him - and Spider cried out again as he pushed his screaming body on. Over a boulder, across a log, and then he didn't know what came first.

"You dumb kid," a voice terrifyingly close behind him shouted in his ear, a hand closed down on his shoulder, he tripped and fell under the pressure, and then Quaritch's other hand was on his arm, grabbing him, holding him down. He cried out as he fought to get up, crawling forward as if he still had a chance. He would die before he gave up. The weight bearing down became too much and Quaritch had him pinned down. Spider gasped for air, already oxygen deprived as tears fell freely inside his mask. He reached one arm forward, clawing at the soil, still trying to escape.

"It's over." Quaritch was panting heavily on top of him. He flipped Spider over and Spider struggled with all his might. He couldn't face this. He wouldn't.

"It's over Spider," Quaritch puffed.

"Get off me!" Spider screamed.

The recom didn't reply, just held Spider's hands down in one of his, while speaking into his communicator with the other.

"You killed him! You killed- He didn't do anything!" Spider shouted, hissing and resorting back to Na'vi when English failed him.

Quaritch was ignoring him however, instead talking over the communicator words that Spider was uninterested in listening to. After several minutes of this, Spider felt his energy fading. A sob escaped him again and he realised there was no way out of this. He'd been so close. Twice.

"Did you forget about the tracker?" Quaritch demanded, turning his attention back down to Spider. "What did you think was gonna happen exactly? You'd run off to your little forest friends and get them to sacrifice themselves in the vain hope of getting you back?"

Spider closed his eyes, trying to roll away from Quaritch.

Quaritch shook his head, appraising the boy. "You just ruined my day."

Spider tried again unsuccessfully to pull his hands free.

"Colonel this is Delta One, standing by for extraction," came a voice from the communicator.

"Stand by, we are ten minutes inbound."

No. No. "Please," Spider tried, as Quaritch roughly lifted him up and dragged him into standing.

"Walk." Quaritch commanded.

"Fuck you."

Quaritch growled. Spider stood defiant. He wasn't going anywhere willingly. The recom pulled his AR around from its position slung across his back, and pointed it at Spider's leg.

The Colonel stared him down. "Let's try again, you walk your ass back to the clearing, or I'll put a hole through your leg. "

Spider stared. He looked from the rifle that was only inches away from his thigh, to Quaritch's face above, which was set completely in stone. Would you really do it? Spider didn't know. He had never seen Quaritch as pissed as he was now. He'd just killed a man. Quaritch's eyes were black, deep and filled with fury.

Spider jumped as Quaritch fired a round of bullets at a spot only a foot away from Spider's leg.

"I ain't kidding, kid."

With no choice, Spider gasped as he turned around, trying to work out the direction back to the squad. Quaritch shoved his shoulder with the end of his gun.

"Move," he growled.

And so Spider did.

He walked in a dream-like haze back through the forest, having no idea which direction to take and relying only on Quaritch's shoves to guide him. The adrenaline had started to wear off now, and he started shivering from the thick layer of sweat that covered his body. He could put less and less weight on his ankle the longer they walked. His mask beeped, warning him that his oxygen was below 20%. Neither of them said anything.

What would happen now? Spider felt like he was walking towards his death. He had to accept whatever would come. Making peace with his fate was the only way he could get through this.

"Delta one, stand by, we are one minute to arrival," Quaritch spoke into the silence.

"Received, ready and waiting, over," came the response.

Spider closed his eyes as he stepped over an octoshroom, accepting this would probably mean the Death Machine again. He tried to calm his heartbeat, to savour every breath of filtered forest air before- well, before he might never see the daylight again. He focused on the feel of the forest floor under his feet, the soft moss, even the stones that caused so much pain under his already bloody feet were a welcome distraction from thinking about going back to the RDA as a prisoner.

Eventually, the sounds of the aircraft filtered through the canopy and they reached the area where two ropes were already dangling from high above. Spider looked up, unsure he could go through with it. One of the ropes had a harness attached.

"Put it on," Quaritch instructed, his rifle still trained on Spider. Spider unclipped the main buckle and fastened it back around his waist. He did the same for the straps around his thighs, and Quaritch clipped the harness he was already wearing on. Then they were away.

Spider gasped and clung to the rope that was lifting him up, higher and higher, away from the forest floor, until they were clear of the dense trees. The wind from the aircraft engines was deafening, and Spider's body convulsed with shivers he knew had nothing to do with the cold. Then they were inside the belly of the Dragon Gunship and doors slid closed beneath them. Humans in masks swarmed on top of Spider, grabbing his hands and unclipping him from the harness. They pulled him away in the direction of the left side airlock, and he could see on the right hand side of the hanger a large group of people - humans and Na'vi - huddled around what looked like the injured Mansk.

"Take him to a cell," Quaritch spat to the humans who were gripping Spider.

Spider caught Quaritch's eye as the recom watched them drag him away. Disgust was plastered over Quaritch's face, and his eyes betrayed... could it be disappointment?

Spider hissed at Quaritch as his final parting words, before summoning his last remaining strength to punch the nearest human in the face, managing to damage their mask and give them a bloody nose, as he was pulled through the airlock to await his uncertain fate.

#colonel quaritch #miles quaritch #spider socorro #spider sully #miles spider socorro #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #fanfic #I found this chapter so much easier to write #because I was clearer on what would happen #and it's more angsty which is far more my style 😳

[absumoaevum]

Muscle Memory by Lights

Muscle Memory

He was there again, ringing the bell, knocking on the door.

The alarm clock read a quarter to three o’clock in the morning. Sheets slithered over her skin as Hermione rolled over in bed. Insistent knocking.

Again.  

She sat up. Finally. Her heart pounding.

Again?

Down the hall, past the kitchen, Hermione walked barefoot to the front door. Knocking. Ring ring ring.

“Hermione, open the door!”

His voice. She shivered and tightened her robe around her waist.

“Please,” came the voice on the other side of the door. It was a small thing, not meant for her at all.

She pressed her forehead to the door. Stillness gathered around her like mist in a meadow, heavy and low.

“Hermione.” Small and rasping. Hitched.

Her hand touched the brass doorknob. It was freezing cold. She held on. She twisted.

The door opened.

“Hermione,” he said. His white-blond hair in his eyes. Braced against the brick wall of her townhouse, thick cloak over his grey formal robes.

His breath smelled like firewhisky, trailing from his mouth like smoke. It was so cold.

“You’re here,” he said. She ached. Released a breath. It puffed into the night air, shadows catching it up and carrying it away. The moment stretched. She looked down at his shoes. Polished dragon hide. Black. She looked up at his eyes. Broken glass grey. She could cut herself on that gaze. It slid right through her and stabbed at her heart.

Again.

She opened the door wider. He smirked. He started forward.

The warmth of his passing was gravity tilting toward him. She leaned in. He moved past her. The fabric of his cloak brushed her arm. Goosebumps.

The door shut. The lock clicked. Silence. Hermione turned.

Cloak on the chair. His fingers fumbled with the cravat at his neck. Long, elegant fingers. Corded muscles. She watched. He swallowed.

It was hard for him, too. She'd half-forgotten.

“Come here,” he said.

She didn’t move. He swayed. He smiled.

Nimble fingers. The buttons of his vest plucked free one by one. He shed like a snake. Piled onto the chair.

Three steps forward and she’d halved the space between them. He reached for her. Like hunger turning in her stomach. Gnawing. She stopped just beyond his touch.

He pulled his dress shirt over his head.  

She looked away from his bare chest. Her body betrayed her. She grasped at the knot of her robe. She pulled it tighter.

Hermione gave him a wide berth as she moved past him down the hall to the bedroom.

Don’t follow.

He did.

Again.

She lay down. She turned her back to him. Ten to three, said the alarm clock. She closed her eyes.

He sat on the bed and fumbled with his shoes.

Want writhed under her skin. Need kept her still.

The blankets pooled at the end of the bed.

He moved in the dark.

“Look at me,” he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. Gruff and sullen.

His fingers traced a line over her arm.

She began to shake.

Touch gone. She gasped at its absence.

Heavy warmth travelled up her body. He tucked the blankets around her. He brushed the hair away from her face.

Tears soaked into the pillow. He lay down beside her.

The heat against her. The weight of his arm around her waist. His breath on the back of her neck.

He shook, too. Shook against her.

“I love you,” he said. She sobbed. Just once.

He pulled her closer. They were two curved lines drawn in parallel.

His breath evened out. His body slackened by degrees.

Hermione opened her eyes to the dark. Three thirteen. “I love you.”  

#dramione #dramione drabble #unedited #618 #mine

[bkdk-art]

Endeavor's and Katsuki's way of atoning

Smth that has been going on in my mind for a while now and I know I'm late to the party since the manga is way past the Endeavor agency- and the Izuku-left-UA-arc but I gotta get if off my chest.

I've read a lot of analysis about similarities but especially differences between Endeavor and Katsuki, so I won’t point them out here. I'd rather continue with smth I don't think anyone else has pointed out yet (?).

In Episode 18 of Season 5 or in the manga chapter 252 Natsuo was kidnapped by that arrow-quirk-villain and while trying to rescue his own damn son Endeavor just stopped in his ways, later explaining he was afraid that if he saved him, Natsuo wouldn't be able to speak his mind freely anymore. Like??? Okay then?? Just let him die, seems to be the better option for you, Todoroki Enji AKA No. 1 Hero. And I know some will say he had faith in the three musketeers to save the day but let me remind you that Endeavor was surprised by their improvement!! So I don't think he hesitated in a strategic or calculated way but rather in a self-centered, egoistic one. And I cannot even begin to explain how much this makes me despise Endeavor, risking Natsuo's life like that.

Whereas, remembering chapter 285, Katsuki's "body just moved on its own" when Izuku was about to get stabbed. “There were no thoughts" like – yes! Exactly! I mean, Katsuki also could have had a thought process like "If I risk my life for the nerd, he will have no choice but to forgive me for my bullying, even if I don't deserve it" or something like that. But he didn't! Because all of that doesn't matter if the person in question might be freaking dead at the end of the day!

Man, Endeavor’s behavior in that episode/chapter pisses me off for so many other reasons like telling Natsuo he doesn't want his forgiveness. Yeah well, you sure don't deserve it but it may be a start to freaking apologize, like truly apologizing – which Katsuki did btw. Katsuki too, said that he doesn't expect things to change between him and Izuku but he apologized nonetheless because that's what you do if you screwed up.

And at the end of the episode when Endeavor decides to separate himself from the rest of the household, saying this is his way of atoning and guys, I can't keep up with his bs! He's turning away from them without even properly facing them!!! When he damn well knows that Fuyumi e.g. wishes for them to be a family again. Yes, sir, your kids and one son in particular are hard on you, calling you out for your abuse – as they should! – so you just give up after only two shitty dinners??? Of course there won’t be any forgiveness after such a short period of time. And this pisses me off so much because Shoto told him that he’d like to see how he would perform as a father and yet? Endeavor runs away after a few ugly confrontations with Natsuo.

And again, smth Katsuki managed to do – he stayed close to Izuku, really trying to help him out. And yes, I know, Izuku never pushed him away, in fact, ever but still, Katsuki is really putting effort into their relationship, not needing other people pushing him into doing so. He is in fact atoning.

Endeavor is just running away, not really thinking about his family or taking them into account, not truly trying to change. He's not making it about making it up to them but rather making it about how he can punish himself. Self-centered as usual.

Sometimes I wonder if Hori did the Natsuo-Endeavor-scene exactly that way, with Katsuki listening, so that Katsuki would be inspired to be nothing like him. Especially with the parallel of both of them talking about their former behavior in front of others but with the HUGE difference of Katsuki putting Izuku first.

Well. Where was I going with this? Originally this was supposed to be a Katsuki-redemption-appreciation-post, showing in comparison to Endeavor how many things Katsuki has gotten right but it kinda ended up pointing out how Endeavor just keeps fucking shit up.

Hope you're fine with that and sorry for not including any screenshots.

#bnha #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki enji #bnha endeavor #my hero academia #bakugou x deku #katsuki x izuku #katsuizu

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

We You were staying in Paris To get away from your parents And I thought, "Wow If I could take this in a shot right now I don't think that we could work this out" Out on the terrace I don't know if it's fair, but I thought "How could I let you fall by yourself While I'm wasted with someone else?"

If we go down, then we go down together They'll say you could do anything They'll say that I was clever If we go down, then we go down together We'll get away with everything Let's show them we are better

We You were staying in Paris To get away from your parents You look so proud Standing there with a frown and a cigarette Posting pictures of yourself on the internet Out on the terrace We You breathe in the air of this small town On our own, cutting class for the thrill of it Getting drunk on the past, we were livin' in

If we go down, then we go down together They'll say you could do anything They'll say that I was clever If we go down, then we go down together We'll get away with everything Let's show them we are better

***

@karatecaulfield pspspsps

Hiiiiii it's me, I'm posting again! ^^; I couldn't help but want to pregame a bit for the August CK femslash event, and I legit just have a bunch of YasMoon moodboards lying around that I haven't had the chance to post yet ^^; I've been meaning to submit this bad boy all summer, since I wanted to do it during the actual S2 period where Yasmine was feasibly still in Paris. Pretty sure she was all the way through July, so...it still works, I think?

This goes with this and this, btw! I always wanted so badly to know what happened between Yas and Moon in S2, and how they ended up making up by the beginning of S3. Like!!! They were on horrible terms when they last interacted in 1x09!!! What happened to make them decide to mend fences!!!

(Well I mean obviously they were gay for each other, yes, but I want to know the specifics of it aksjduifhukb)

I really get so much mileage out of the "Yasmine has the same bikini" scene that it's borderline disgraceful. It's just so wild to me that Moon stalking Yasmine's instragram is the only proof whatsoever we have of Yasmine's existence during S2. Like if you started watching the show at S2, literally your only impression of Yas would be "hot blonde girl who has the same bikini as Hawk's girlfriend (sus) and whose chest we see Hawk's girlfriend ZOOMING IN ON (even more sus)." All you would know of this character is "girl no one else likes but who Moon is simping for." Like excuse me!!!

And from Yasmine's side, it's super gay, too??? Like the fact that she's wearing the same bikini as Moon for a public internet photo doesn't feel like an accident--especially since someone as hyperfemme and rich as Yasmine probably has like. A detailed outfit calendar that doesn't leave any room for slip-ups. So I'd guess it's either out of spite ("hey bitch remember how you sided with the losers and freaks over me??? Now I'm wearing your look better than you") or as a way to guilt-trip Moon ("remember when we got those adorable matching best friend swimsuits??? but then you stabbed me in the back and ruined our friendship and now we're not besties anymore :( But I can still remind you of when we were so you feel bad about it!"). Either way, I definitely think Yasmine wanted Moon to see that photo. Like this is some lesbian mind game shit I'm sorry aksjndhkuygbhy

Even just from this one little bit, it seems to me like Yasmine and Moon just...can't really let each other go, even after they've severed ties and are (presumably) no longer in each other's lives. Moon is creeping around on Yasmine's socials, while Yasmine is most likely intentionally wearing a swimsuit Moon also has to get a rise out of her. (Something something another one to the add to the list of Elimetri parallels lol) Would guess Moon has some lingering guilt about not defending Yasmine after the wedgie situation (like she was horrified--she's the only person not laughing!), while Yasmine has lingering feelings of resentment/betrayal that Moon chose Hawk and co. over her.

Betting they stalked each other's social media all summer long. Like Moon was constantly making fun of Yasmine's fashion choices and trying to convince everyone (and herself) she was So Totally Better Off Without Her and Totally Doesn't Miss Her Or Anything but like...girl. If you roasting Yasmine about having the same bikini as you involves you zooming in on her boobs just to make sure, then idk what to tell you???? (No but I will seriously never be over that O_____O)

And as for Yasmine...we don't have as much to go off of irt what she was doing in France, but The Bathing Suit Incident and her crawling back to Moon literally as soon as school started indicates that she like. Definitely wasn't as done with her "backstabbing" bestie as she told herself she was. I'd bet money she spent that whole summer being jealous as fuck of Eli. Just prowling through his and Moon's insta pictures together like "this stupid blue-haired douchebag, what's he got that I don't??? >:( Fucking karate??? Tattoos??? Lame >:( How dare he steal my secret girlfriend >:( How dare he show her off like arm candy >:( Even though I wouldn't have the guts to openly date her anyways >:( I bet he can't even eat a girl out and smell like roses doing it >:( Can I kill him a little bit >:(" Like I'll bet the girl was fucking SEETHING and I love that for her. (And then he wrecks her science group project because he was mad jelly Demetri was talking to her??? It's a wonder they ever became friends XD) Like I love the idea of Yasmine interacting with this dude all of once and then just hating the shit out of him immediately for stealing her girl, and Eli just??? Has no idea??? Like Yasmine Nolastname is sending enough hatred overseas to boil the ocean into nothing and Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz is none the wiser, busy performing heterosexuality with the girl he has all of zilch in common with and frantically hiding his gay little crush on Demetri XD One-sided rivalry for the ages, AND IF NO ONE WILL WRITE ABOUT IT I WILL

Actually no it's not one-sided it's just that Yasmine thinks they're fighting over Moon and Hawk thinks they're fighting over Demetri aksjdhukghfduy

It's fr like that one Endgame meme tho, because Hawk lowkey forgets who Yasmine is during S2 XD

Yasmine: You took EVERYTHING from me!!! Hawk: I don't even know who you are...

ANYWAYS "Paris" by the Chainsmokers is about Moon lowkey pining for Yasmine while she's in France and reminiscing on all the good times they had while they were still best friends and kind of regretting not being in Yas's corner when she needed her. It's true, Moon told me herself! Sorry, I don't make the rules :3

(Btw Moon's Gay Yearning gives me life and I will die on the hill that this Gay Yearning is 1000% mutual and Yasmine is just dumb and super repressed akasdjhliuhfk)

Kinda on the fence about if I HC Yasmine as a cigarette smoker or not. Part of me thinks she'd do it to look "cool" and "edgy" and "counterculture" without...really having to do much else in that department XD But the other part of me thinks she'd violently reject anything that might make her smell questionable, and would just embrace the "cool girl" aesthetics of the whole thing. Like Augustus Waters-style put-a-cigarette-in-your-mouth-but-never-light-it type bullshit XD That seems more her Vibe, since I feel like homegirl would haaaaate the taste of cigs.

Anyways y'all better get ready because this femslash event is gonna get me INSANE about these two >:3 Like I'm gonna probably get super ambitious and start more one-shots than I can feasibly finish and get stressed but best believe I will enjoy EVERY MINUTE of it

As always, pic credits available upon request!

#yasmoon #yasmine x moon #moon x yasmine #aesthetic #moodboard #yasmine cobra kai #moon cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai season 1 #cobra kai season 2 #femslash #lesbian #wlw

[abybweisse]

Ch192, Mother3 theory prediction etc.

I'd previously explained that Layla is the parallel to Li'l Ms. Marshmallow from Mother3, and Al comes out to act as Li'l Ms. Marshmallow's "Ultra Ticked-Off System" -- the supercharged fighting mode that she goes into once being severely injured.

Keeping with that parallel, if Yana-san sticks close to it, we should see Layla/Al be defeated within the next couple chapters. Probably ch192. If the parallel is extremely close, then here are some other things we might see:

LMM (for short) breaks down (self destructs, actually) when she's defeated. So, Layla/Al might not get taken back to reaper HQ as a functional bizarre doll. I mean they will possibly take her to the reaper realm for examination anyway, but she will probably have to be destroyed first. (I seriously doubt they will be able to just restrain her and hand her over to the forensics lab, or whatever.) And then they will only be able to examine what's left. Maybe they can view parts of the brain and cinematic records before they are completely decomposed. 🤷🏻‍♀️

LMM is a robot, so she's very strong and all, but she's susceptible to being shorted out by saltwater. Bizarre dolls are not susceptible to death scythes in the same way a truly living person would be, but anything that strikes her just right on/through the skull should suffice. That could be a death scythe, those scissor blades she's got... even a regular bullet. The weapon that lands the final blow could even end up being something completely random and unexpected. Possibly even comical. Seriously, LMM finally gets taken down by a water gun filled with saline.

However, these advanced bizarre dolls might also be susceptible to a few other things, too. It might not suffice for the final blow, even shooting her through the heart just made her angry, but.... Imagine what would happen if someone managed to get in close enough to stab her with a hypodermic needle filled with the wrong type of blood. If she's Canopus, she can only have Canopus and Vega. If she's Vega, she can only have Vega. And that gets me to the next possible parallel. When LMM gets shot with saltwater, she starts to short circuit, making her slump then sway. Finally, she starts talking absolute nonsense... before she explodes. Earlier, I'd wondered whether that's what was happening in ch190, because when she was hit in the chest, she swayed, slumped over against the desk, and then fell to the ground while calling out for "Al". It kind of seemed like nonsense, because who TF was "Al?" Well, that was basically just LMM right before the Ultra Ticked-Off System truly kicks in. For Layla, that's Al. Now we get to see what it's really like for this parallel of LMM to "slump, sway, yell nonsense, and explode". How that's portrayed depends on the weapon that's used. If she's actually susceptible to something other than a major injury to the brain, I'd love to see what the wrong blood type (injected) does to her. It might not finish her off, but it could incapacitate her long enough for someone to land the final blow. I don't expect Layla/Al to literally explode, like LMM does... unless Baldo comes back into the fight with actual explosives. (There shouldn't be enough blood supply there to hook her up to a machine and pump her full of everything they've got until she bursts, like the exact opposite of what Blavat does to the Sirius renal patient. ...Unless they use saline! 😂)

If we part from the parallel more than a smidge, injecting her with the wrong blood type might be the only way to incapacitate her enough to capture her and take her away to reaper HQ. Then, perhaps they could interrogate and examine her until they decide they are done... and then administer the final blow to her skull. This might be our best chance of seeing Othello or the reaper forensics lab at work.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #layla #al #tw: blood #blood types #blood transfusion #mother3 #mother3 predictions #li'l ms marshmallow #ultra ticked off system #ronald knox #william t. spears #reaper realm #reaper forensics #othello #observation #theories #thoughts #ch190 #ch191 #ch192 #sep 4 2022

[skeysesil]

So, since I've gotten back on the Halloween bandwagon, I really need to get this off my chest, months after the premier of Ends, which, by the way, I do like, it just doesn't follow exactly the narrative set by its predecessors but it's still a good movie.

Ever since I watched it, some things didn't sit well with me regarding the vibe it gave off, and I hope it'll make sense because there's also a theory I came across that helps me give shape to everything.

Why does it feel and look like it was shot in the early 80s? The music? The fashion? The houses? Kills was clearly set in 2018 as it followed the previous one, but what happened to Ends?

The theory I came across mentioned something about how the movie itself is how it is written by Laurie in her book, which from how I see it would make perfect sense and would explain the tone of the entire narrative, why Allyson sometimes wears the same colors or clothes Laurie wore in the original Halloween, why Corey is a striking image of Michael, why the music sounds the way it sounds, why Willy the Kid himself looks like he came out from a late 70s fashion magazine.

I understand what they tried to do with Karen in '18 and Kills by giving her the same hairstyle and color as Laurie, now in Ends Allyson sporting the same length and wavey texture, but what stood out the most was Allyson's all-denim outfit in one of the scenes, and we all know Laurie's ironic denim outfit from '78.

Then there's Corey. Sorry but there's no way in Hell Corey was not made into Michael's spitting image. Curly hair and coveralls, that's all I'm going to say, and in juxtaposition with Laurie's fight in the closet and seeing Michael without his mask for the first time, my brothers in Christ, that is a psychological print right there, because how else would you explain Corey's looks when it could easily be the description stuck in Laurie's mind? She was so traumatized at that moment that the image had been burnt in the back of her brain.

Also, you can't tell me Ends Laurie is the same Laurie from 2018 and Kills. It's impossible to go to therapy and suddenly do a one-eighty twist, it makes no sense, you can't make something that lasted for fourty years disappear in just four, adding the death of your daughter.

Make it make sense.

If I touch on the concept of Allyson and Corey as a parallel to Laurie's book, it is, in my opinion, the relationship she perhaps sought to have with Michael, IF Michael was "normal". Even so, Corey is Michael if Michael never killed Judith, and grew up in society among the rest of Haddonfield's residents, high school graduate, working as a mechanic, and living a violent love story with the slightly younger babysitter.

For fourty years Michael wanted one thing, and that was highlighted in the last moments of his life in Ends: to hold Laurie's hand.

It is mentioned by Sondra's sister and highlighted by Corey:

“Do you see what he did to my sister? He killed her husband and he stabbed her. Took her voice! She cannot speak because of you! You tempted and you provoked that man when you should’ve left him alone.”

in Halloween 1978, Laurie sings "I wish I had you all alone, just the two of us", as she is seen walking away from the Myers' house

“You should give in. You should surrender to that feeling you had the first time you ever looked into his eyes. You secretly hope Michael comes back for you.”

Corey was onto something here but analyzed from a different perspective, Corey's words could be something coming from a voice inside Laurie's head, her own desire.

Ever since Kills came out, my main theory was that the wrath of Haddonfield was what fed Michael and that Michael was the personification of their anger, which would explain why he was impossible to hold down, but in Ends? If that theory applies, it would also be an answer to why he was so absent and weak.

I would honestly say so much more but I am so tired and feel so drained and with too many ideas in my head trying to be written down at once. Hope I'm not the only one, and by all means, do interact with this post, I want to read other ideas/opinions too.

#Halloween #Michael Myers #Laurie Strode #Halloween Kills #Halloween Ends

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

A A A A A A A A A H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H

NOOOOOO I TOLD Y'ALL I COULDN'T HANDLE CHEST COMPRESSIONS 😭😭😭😭

But also the angstttt 👀👀👀 :DDD

But also AAAHHHHHHHHH H E L P M E 😭😭😭💔💔❤️

BC Y'ALL "NO PULSE" LIKE 😭😭😭😭😭 THE ANGST BUT AAHHHHHHH ANYWAY

COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON

No one:

My brain: I mean hey he's used to kissing Carlos-

Like XDD but NOT THE TIME MAN I'M HAVING AN EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN

AAAHHHHHHHH COME ON P L E A S E E E E 😭😭😭😭😭

NOOOO NOT THE SLOW MO

A A H H H H Y E S BACKUP!!!

OH MY GOSH WAIT IS IT THE 126

OKAY NO THAT'S GOOD HONESTLY XDD

A H YES THEY'VE GOT IT THEY'VE GOT THE NARCAN COME ON

AAAHHHHHH YES GIVE IT TO HIM GIVE IT TO HIM

C'MON C'MON C'MON TK

It feels like for the drama he should stab it in but isn't it like an ingested thing XDD

A A A A H H H H H H NO HE IS STABBING IT IN WHOOO THE DRAMA

BUT ALSO AAAHHHHHH CARLOS

COME ON COME ON COME ON

COME ON CARLOS 😭😭😭 TK'S NOT DOING CHEST COMPRESSIONS RIGHT NOW SO YOU BETTER HURRY UP AND WAKE UP 😭😭 X'D

A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H

Y E E E E S S S S S S S S S S S S S

CARLOS IS ALIVE 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

A A A H H H H H H 😭😭😭😭😭 THE A N G S T OF THE GET OFF ME AND WHAT NOT 😭😭😭😭

PLEASE LET HIM REALIZE PLEASE LET HIM REALIZE 😭😭😭

IT'S OKAY CARLOS IT'S OKAY

Y E S SEE IT IS :'DDDDD

IT'S THEM :'DDDD 😭😭😭😭😭😭

AAAHHHHHHH Y'ALL THEMMMM 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ <3333

(them being tarlos and also Gabriel this time, the previous one being like about Carlos realizing lol)

Y E S :'DDDDDDDD

Y'all the relief :'DDD

AAAHHHHHH LOOK AT THEMMM 😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

TK right by his side :')))

AH (awh) yes Andrea XDD

LOL already decorating, yeah you'll probably have to stay there for a while lol

Not a whiiile but I mean you ain't going home today Carlos xD

SLGHSHFKSHFL VORIMGNP I THINK NOT SIR

YEAH EXACTLY TK XDD

Insane man lol

AWWW lol literally <333 xDDD

Very much a TK thing lol

Carlos has joined the ranks 🥰🥰

Yk as we've been saying with the Strand men, but rn I especially mean TK xD

A A A A A H H H H H H H H H YESSS "Thank you for saving my life" 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️

A A A A A A A A A H H H H H HH H H H H H H H H "I was just holding onto it for a bit" 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A A A A A A A A A A A H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H "It's yours" 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Y'ALL CANT KEEP D O I N G THIS TO ME 😭😭😭 XDD

That entire conversation was just one hit after another 😭😭 XD. Killing me again and again lol

Awwwwwwww themmmmm :')))

AAH them :'DDDD

TK and Gabriel this time

WAIT PLEASE ARE WE ABOUT TO GET A "YOU GONNA RIDE WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND PARALLEL?"

C'MON PLEASE CAN WE GET IT PLEEEEAASEEE

AAHHHH okay it might be setting up for one but at the very least this :'DDDD also this is kinda a parallel to the conversation xD the one before the one line of are you gonna ride with your boyfriend xDD

A A A A A A A H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H WAIT YESSSS WE DID GET IT :DDDDDDDD

"You gonna ride with him?" 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️ YESSSS LITERALLY :'DDDD

THAT'S WHAT I WANTED 😭😭🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️

I mean it would've been even better if he said "with your fiance" but hey I can take what I get XDDD

(still though lol imagine it, better parallel, more specific to their relationship so just 🥰🥰 which includes making it feel more important, and slightly similar but another mention of them being fiances :'DDD I'll take it any time I can get it lol, it being said I mean xD)

Anyway I mean YEAH YOU BETTER TK XD

I was thinking that lol

OKAY GOOD yes xDDD

Awwww :'))))

WAIT ohh noooooo he's calling Owennn 😭😭😭 and he's not gonna ANSWERRRRR 😭😭😭

OWEN C'MONNNN PLEASE

I know he won't but like 😭😭😭 I can have hope, I mean he's not meeting undercover anymore for sure xddd

A H NOT EVEN HEARING OWEN'S VOICEMAIL 😭😭 MESSAGES FULL :'((( 😭😭

I knew it but like 😭😭😭😭 :'((( still, yk? xd

AAHHHHHH AWWWW TKKK 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️💔❤️❤️

My poor baby :'(((

C'mon Owen xdd

Well hopefully this just means more drama in that Owen and TK episode lol

#9-1-1 lone star #911 lone star #oasis's 9-1-2 chatter

[voidstilesplease]

I just finished the season. What the hell was that? I’ll start with things I liked Patrick’s shirt in the last two episodes and answering my question as to where Phillipe is. Now things I didn’t like basically everything, the new characters didn’t care about them, and the characters I did like previous are now so out of character that it’s ridiculous. Patrivan they so shippable in season 5 why destroy the one good ship from last season. Patrick didn’t deserve any of this neither did Ivan. I never minded Ari I didn’t hate her I didn’t like her she was just always there but this season wow they did her more rude, at the end I was worried for the baby with how much she drinks. I wish Raul was hit by the car he is almost if not as bad as the two guys in isadora’s storyline. Raul’s friend caused the fight at the game which caused everything to go nuts then drugs Mencia and well you saw how that turned out. I am glad isadora finally got actual justice for what happened and got to kiss the guy that likes her. This season was dumpster fire there were good moments but there were actual moments where I cringed and wanted to skip sometimes I had it on 2x speed just because I couldn’t stand the scene/characters. Overall I think this might be the worst season. Was it just me or did you get Carmuel goodbye parallels from patrivan goodbye. Carla left Samuel a voice message as he slept and then left, Patrick left Ivan a voice message as he was unconscious then left.

Im halfway through and it’s just pain. The only good thing that has happened other then the patrivan pool scene which was A+ was they answered my question where is Phillipe. He went back to his country.

Adding your previous message here, too, because I wasn't too quick to respond to that, and now you're finished. I could have warned you that the halfway mark wasn't the most painful yet. But, I guess, now you know 😭.

I must say, Patrick's wardrobe this season is great. Less provoking, but not less handsome. To me, it actually represents his maturity, the growth of his character, which is 🤌 from beginning to end.

Now about the rest of the season... Well, I understand if the new characters don't appeal to you yet, but I do have potential favorites. Nico, for example. He's just precious, I think. And Didac, too. The way he stood up for Isa against his childhood friend was very good. Sara, I feel for her. Bilal and Rocio could be cute but there's too little content to say any more than that, unfortunately. Raul is toxic and physically abusive - no, no, no. I have a penchant for liking toxic people (ahem Patrick and Ivan), but physical violence is just irredeemable. Sonia, who isn't part of the promoted new cast, is actually a great character.

But of course, I came here for the characters we already knew from season 5. Specifically, Patrivan. And true, the first episode actually felt a little off in the beginning because of some characters' behavior that I wasn't used to in season 5, but I also realized that circumstances from before changed them.

And yes, 100%. Patrick deserved better. Ivan, without the intention of invalidating his grief, could have done better. And Ari - oh god. Where do I even start with Ari. I didn't mind her in season 4, started to hate her in season 5, and just want her to disappear every time she's on screen this season. Patrick is self-destructive, but Ari is a walking disaster. She takes down everyone with her. And worse is, she betrayed her own brother. Who only wanted to help her, and Ivan too. But they stabbed Patrick's back instead, and then his chest right to his face. But the most despicable part is the pregnancy. I don't even want to think about it, much less address that it's actually part of season 6. I just want to delete that part in my brain because I can't.

True. The one, true, good thing to come out of this season is Isadora's storyline. But overall, I didn't hate the season. I understand if you do. But for me, objectively, it actually is the best season after 1-3. Even if it did crush my heart to pieces.

Anyway, thank you for sharing your thoughts! I am sorry if I'm rambling in my reply but I'm still, kind of, disoriented by the whole season, tbh.

Finally, no, it wasn't just you. The last scene with Patrick and Ivan is a parallel to Carmuel. Only, this one broke me utterly. Their parting isn't as acceptable as Carmuel's, in my opinion. Their parting is an audio recording that may or may not be heard by Ivan. And his accident could be traced back to Patrick's car, and now Patrick could even be under suspicion. His departure could be seen as running away rather than giving their relationship a chance to breathe. It's brutal.

#asks #patrivan #elite s6 #elite s6 spoilers

[peninkwrites]

okay so first off i’m reading this in the middle of the night - this action will not have any consequences at all :)

“He’d been quick about it, stabbing him through the heart…” YOU. YOU. I’M SURE THIS WILL NOT BRING UP ANY LOVELY MEMORIES FOR WILBUR :)))))))))

“‘You’ve never been in so much pain it makes you sick?’ Tommy scoffs, almost with an air of superiority.” oughghghhgh there might be a specific term in psychology for this that escapes me but the self-weaponization of pain as a mark of superiority as a desperate attempt to protect the psyche and gain some perceived modicum of control back………

“…the hundreds of tiny scratches all across his chest and arms become thin, scabbed over lines.  It much be annoyingly itchy.” if this line is a result of that one comment of mine ily /p

“‘A fun way?’ ‘Always so disapproving, Punz,’ Dream says mockingly.  ‘You’re so boring sometimes.  We’re only gonna get to make this reveal once, so.’” cannot believe you’re still surprised about dream’s behavior, punz. also theater kid dream /neg

“Dream steps over Wilbur’s corpse so they’re eye to eye.  Eye to mask.” love this clarification that shows the power dynamic - also that whole paragraph was vine boom sound effect after vine boom sound effect

“Dream must be smirking behind that mask.  ‘You’ve got to wonder, y’know?’  A laugh half under his breath.  ‘What’d you think they’d do to each other?  With the right push?’” ohhhhhhhhhhh no. oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no if this is the direction you’re taking this fic i WILL cry

“Wilbur’s time back in the train station is a bit blurry.  Hours in the living world means days here.  Wilbur didn’t know how to cope.  Decades spent alone, maybe he should be used to it, the back and forth of it all when Dream had dragged him around, but after those precious weeks outside, alive, even cared for, Wilbur opens his eyes to the faded white tile of the train station’s ceiling and feels like he cannot breathe.  He doesn’t even need to breathe.” you could say. his city gave him asthma. also waughghhghg him having a short taste of freedom is going to make everything that’s upcoming worse like man sometimes i am a believer that it is better to have never loved at all than to have loved and lost and that is definitely the case here :(

“The train station still burrows under his skin like a parasite, a possession, a violation.  He cannot escape it.” ooooh love this line

“‘Knew you’d get there eventually,’ Dream pats him on the shoulder…” grrrrrrrr i hate patronizing dream so much. killing and biting

“There is nothing to hope for and nowhere to go from here.  There is no light at the end of the tunnel because there’s only the tunnel.  There is no light, there is no end.  He feels too young for all of this, too young to be this tired.

How had he kept hope last time?  He’d believed in rescue.  How had he done that?

Is that what you want, Tommy?  To think help is coming?  To spend the rest of eternity believing in a lie?” tommy’s realization here is heartbreaking. he’s finally breaking and realizing that he’s really trapped in hell. though would it be better to have a false hope that helped one get through all the torture? i don’t know. tbh if i was in this situation i would have gone catatonic long before this point so props to tommy for his fortitude

“Tommy shouldn’t have taken the fucking health potion.  Now Dream is going to break him again.  He’s suffered enough, he just wants this to end, why can’t he just rest?” :((((((

“Wilbur feels an ache in his chest, a hole opening there that never needed a sword.” AUGHGHGHGHHGHGH

“This time he can’t fall to pieces, he’s no longer dead, so this won’t be like that fucking ravine, he cannot abandon Tommy to this alone.  He has to be the invincible one now.” ohhhhhh i love pogtopia parallels. but to be real i can see this lasting all of one week

NOOOOOOO DON’T CALL THE MAN WHO VIEWS HIMSELF AS STUCK IN A NARRATIVE A PROP

man dream holding tommy by his hair on his knees staring across the room at wilbur who’s pinned down by punz is such a vivid image; you did a great job writing this scene

actually writhing in agony right now. they love each other so much but still why tommy whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy dream’s going to hold this over you again and again that you literally signed up for this ghghghghhghghhghhgh i love impossible choices where either outcome is bad

“Dream just talks right over him, ‘did I say you could say goodbye, Tommy?’

Tommy shakes his head, cheek stinging, jaw aching.  He doesn’t say another word.” even though this is such a small action, it is still so incredibly brutal. like out of everything so far this chapter this is the part that’s gotten to me the most. anguish

“‘I don’t think so.’  Punz refuses to look Wilbur in the eye.  ‘Not anymore.’” yesssss feel remorse forever and everrrrrrr. but for real that was such a banger line to end the chapter on

Ooooh LOVE your thoughts!!!

Weaponizing his own suffering yesss I know what you’re talking about!!

And yes! Our chat on scars and such gave me Much to consider! :D Your “his city gave him asthma” bit lmao.

And Yeah Wilbur wanting to be strong… he has good intentions but he’s so fragile <3

I am so glad the tragedy is getting to you!!! We’re in the Final Phase. It is not getting better! ^-^

(And Punz and Wilbur is gonna be such a dynamic, I have Plans)

#thank you!! :D #nonotablechange #asks #tddd #wake up.