#(c) 2021 snaps away

[pb524830]

anyone else

part: 3 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 3.3k c/w: slight mention of blood, language a/n: hi guys! so sorry this is probably much later than you expected, i've just been so busy with school and other stuff. here's part 3. let me know what ideas you guys have for other fics and what you might want to see :)

OCTOBER 2020

Ava you good?     8:24 PM

Yo I’m waiting at mine       8:43 PM

Avaaaa      8:46 PM

I’m going crazy thinking about you dude      8:52 PM

I’m serious         8:52 PM

Don’t leave me hanging like this      8:52 PM

I read over Paige’s messages tiredly. I feel so incredibly stupid. How many times has she used these lines on girls? Probably more than she can count. I nearly laugh out loud. Poor Paige, I think to myself. Keeping track of a roster like that while being such a shitty person must be hard. The hatred is bubbling in my chest, angry and scorching. It pushes me to my feet, out my door, and to Audrey’s room.

Before I know what I’m doing, I knock on the door, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, what’s up?” Aubrey says brightly when she opens her door. “Nothing much. Who was that, though?” Audrey smiles sheepishly. “Swear you won’t tell anyone?” She asks. My heart pounds painfully. Paige had asked me to keep quiet about us hanging out, too. I nod nonetheless. “It was Paige Bueckers.”

I knew that. I knew that. But somehow, hearing it out loud hurts even worse. “How-how did y’all meet?” She giggles, covering her mouth. “Okay, you remember that night we were at the gym? Doing serve-receive? Like last month?” I nod, the thudding in my chest suffocating me now. “She ran into me and she just, like, asked for my snap. And she’s hot so I gave it to her.”

The night she walked me home. The same night she told me I was pretty and told me that my smile was beautiful. 

She played me.

“Was she good?” I ask bluntly, my voice foreign to my own ears. Aubrey’s eyes widen. “Uh, yeah? Like, really good. Oh, my God - she did this thing with her tongue...” There’s a roaring in my ears all of a sudden.

She fucking played me.

“Avantika? Are you okay?” I nod, too wrapped up in my own thoughts and back away, stumbling back to my room. Had I liked her that much? Why does it hurt this bad? I glance around my room, my eyes landing on an article of clothing. Her hoodie. A UConn basketball hoodie. She’d given it to me after walking me home from practice one night.

She’d come to the volleyball gym just to walk me home. She told me I looked good in her clothes, but that I’d look better in her bed.

I’d slept in it for three days straight after. 

I want to burn it now.

NOVEMBER 2021

The surprise party is at Paige’s apartment. I haven’t been there in over a year. But I find myself standing in front of her door, too nervous to knock. Which doesn’t make any sense, obviously. There’s no reason to be nervous; it’s just like any other party. I’m dressed in a strappy green tank top and cargo pants, my hair down and curly. Taking a deep breath, I rap on the door with my knuckles.

Paige opens it. My breath catches, and I hate that it does. She’s in a pair of blue shorts and a sports bra, drying her hair with a towel. Her hand drops to her side, towel in hand, when she sees me. “Avantika, hi.” I smile slightly. “Hey,” I reply. “Am I early? I didn’t wanna be late, so-”

“Nah, ur good. You can help set up, actually,” she tells me, shuffling to the side to let me in. Her apartment looks the same as I remember. I catch a glimpse of her familiar, ludicrous purple bed sheets through her cracked room door. I turn to her, inhaling deeply. “What can I help with?” I ask, holding out my present for Azzi. Her eyes linger on me, trailing over my body as she takes the gift in one hand and continues drying her hair with the other. “I blew up balloons, but I didn’t string them together yet. You mind?” 

She sets the present on the counter, hopping up onto it. Her legs dangle off the edge, spread wide as she watches me string together balloons that say ‘Happy Birthday’. She fishes a dab pen out of her pocket and takes a hit. “You want?” She asks. I glance at her, shaking my head. She shrugs, tipping her head back to release the smoke. My eyes draw to her jawline, fingers going slack. I curse myself for still letting her have this effect on me. Her head lolls back forward, catching me staring. I see her mouth twitch into a smirk, ever so slightly, before she clears her throat. “You all good there?” She asks, gesturing to the balloon garland I’m supposed to be helping with.

I laugh shakily. “No, yeah. All good.” Paige shakes her head, grinning. “Here, I’ll do it. There’s a package in my bedroom with streamers. Go grab it?” I roll my eyes, handing the balloons and string over to her. “You remember which one it is?” She hums, eyes flicking to mine. My mouth twitches. I nod wordlessly.

The silence is so suffocating. I’m not used to being alone with her - at least, not anymore. I hate that her presence is still so intoxicating, that there’s still this undeniable force pulling me to her. I hate the way she laughs and the way she talks and the way she looks at me.

I get in and out of her room as quickly as possible, snatching the Amazon package off of her bed. I grab a knife from the kitchen to slice through the tape, but I’m so distracted that I accidentally slash my own finger. I hiss in pain, dropping the knife onto the counter with a clatter. “Fuck,” I whisper agitatedly, Paige’s head whipping up. “Avantika?” She asks. “All good,” I say, turning away from her, holding my finger to my chest, trying not to get blood on my top. It’s really flowing now, in rivets down my finger, pooling in my palm.

“Yo, Avantika,” Paige says, turning me towards her by my shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she breathes, grabbing my hand. “Okay, wait, it’s fine-” I try to get out, but Paige already has my finger in her mouth. My eyes widen as she licks away the blood, walking me backwards with her to rummage around a kitchen drawer. “Paige!” I say. She shoots me a look, taking my finger out of her mouth and wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. She fishes out a bandaid and an alcohol wipe. 

“I can do it-”

“Hush.”

I shut up immediately, watching as Paige cleans my cut, shaking her head when I hiss at the sting of the alcohol swab. She tears at the bandaid package with her teeth and applies it smoothly, wrapping it tightly around my finger. “How’d you even manage that?” She muses. I narrow my eyes at her, snatching her hand away. “It was very strategic, actually, I wanted to slice my hand open-”

“Clearly-”

“What are you, fuckin’ pre-med now?” I demand.

“Might have to be, if you can’t take care of yourself,” she laughs, shoving me lightly.

I shove her back, smiling back at her. I can’t help it.

Her eyes meet mine. “No ‘thank you'?” She asks.

I scoff. “You put a bandaid on me,” I ridicule.

Paige’s eyes widen. “I could’ve let you bleed to death,” she says.

I gape. “You are so dramatic-”

“And you’re ungrateful as hell, come here,” she complains, grabbing at my waist and pulling me against her more or less bare torso, hands going to my sides to tickle me. I shriek with laughter, fighting at her, clutching at her hands to pull her away from me. But Paige is relentless, hands going everywhere, ordering me, “Say thank you! Say thank you and I’ll stop!” 

“No shot!” I gasp, eyes welling with tears of laughter, trying to ignore the scent of strawberries that invades my nostrils. 

“Say it!” She demands, an arm winding all the way around my torso to hold me against her as I fight harder. 

“Yo, why the fuck is nothing set up?” I hear a voice demand. Paige’s hold loosens, but doesn’t relax. Her arms hang limply from my body, and when I see Evina standing indignantly in front of us, I shove her away. Paige clears her throat, backing up.

“Hi, Evina,” I say, my tone suddenly solemn. “Hi, E,” Paige says. She at least has the sense to look sheepish.

“Well, if y’all are done fucking around, Caroline’s about to drive Azzi back. Let’s get it together,” she commands, clapping her hands. Paige and I snap into motion, finishing up the decorations and hanging them up in a relatively organized fashion.

The party goes smoothly - Azzi does a good job of acting surprised, though I’m sure she’s well aware of what the girls were going to do in the first place. We cut cake and load her up with presents, before Paige calls for a round of shots.

And that’s when the night really takes off.

Soon enough, Paige has made some sort of insinuation that she can drink better than me, and I’m going shot for shot with her. She’s really putting me through it, knowing just how to push my competitive nature. Me, her, and Azzi begin alternating between vodka and tequila. We’re about 5 shots in before Aubrey and Christyn challenge Paige and Azzi to a game of beer pong. Azzi shakes her head adamantly. “If Paige loses because of me, I’ll never live it down,” she insists. “Ava will go!”

I protest immediately when Azzi pushes me towards the table, Paige in hot pursuit. “No way! I’m not playing beer pong with a bunch of basketball players,” I say indignantly. Suddenly, I feel Paige’s breath hot on my ear, and her hand at my hip. “Hey, I got you, okay? Trust.” Her voice sends shivers through me, and I feel my eyelids flutter. Damn her. I elbow her ever so slightly, shooting her a grin. She smirks back. 

Paige dips a ping-pong ball into a cup full of beer on our side, shooting it to theirs. It swirls into their middle cup, and she hands me the other one. I mimic her actions, making it into the cup at the tip of their triangle. We get the balls back, and Paige makes another shot, holding up a 3 on her hand when it plops into a cup at the corner of their triangle. I giggle at Christyn and Aubrey’s annoyed expressions, staggering into Paige. She braces her hands on my shoulders, her chest vibrating with laughter. “You good?” she laughs. I look up at her, her stark blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes, her perpetual smirk. “Yeah,” I breathe. “You want help with this shot?” She asks.

Paige doesn’t give me time to respond before she turns me around, wrapping her arms around me to position my arms, then flicking my wrist for me. The ball lands in their middle cup, and the other two girls groan, reaching for the cups to chug them. I expect Paige to move away from me, to drop my arms the second I’ve made the shot. But her hold lingers, an arm looped around my waist as she laughs, jeering at Christyn and Aubrey, tossing them the balls out of pity. Her arms stay around me, my head leaning back against her chest, hands lingering on her arms, swaying to the music I’m too drunk to recognize, dancing with the girl I’m too drunk to push away. She doesn’t remove her arms from around me until she has to shoot again.

I don’t remember who loses or wins that game of beer pong. I remember the taste of beer in my throat. I remember Paige’s voice in my ear - “Shot of Pink Whit?” I remember Azzi giggling as she leads me into the kitchen, her arms linked with mine as we down the shot of pink liquid. 

I remember Paige’s eyes hot on mine, her gaze challenging and curious. 

I walk up to her, holding out a shot of Pink Whitney. “Drink,” I command. Paige takes the shot from me, not breaking eye contact. She tips it back down her throat, straight-faced, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Fuck, she’s hot.

I clap gleefully, spinning away, but she catches at my waist, pulling me into her. “Avantika,” she murmurs. I cock my head. “Paige?” I ask. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I’m so drunk I don’t even realize how close we are. “Are you okay?” She asks sincerely. I nod happily, looping my arms around her neck. “Are you sure?” She repeats. I close my eyes, tipping my head back and laughing. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me,” I slur, lolling my head back towards her.

I must be drunk. I must be, because that’s not a flash of hurt that flits across her face. It can’t be. 

So I continue.

“I mean, you never really cared about me, did you?” I scoff, hanging off of her neck. Her brow furrows. “Avantika, what are you-”

“You just wanted to have sex with me…” I say sadly, pouting, tracing her face with my finger. Paige’s eyes widen.

“It’s okay. I wanted to have sex with you, too,” I admit, shrugging, tapping my finger against her lips. Paige shakes her head. “Avantika, you’re drunk,” she says. My hands trail down to rest on her chest. “No, I’m not,” I say indignantly.

“You are.”

“No, you are,” I retort, getting frustrated.

“Ava-”

I push her away immediately. “Do not fucking call me that,” I spit. She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she tries to amend, reaching for me again. I stagger away. “No, fuck you,” I snap. “Avantika, you’re so drunk right now. Please, just come lie down.”

She’s pleading with me. I hesitate. “Please,” she begs again, holding a hand out.

I hesitate. “Okay,” I whisper, taking her hand. She pulls me into her chest, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. We stumble through the apartment, the din of conversation in music echoing faintly in the background. Dimly, I hear Azzi’s concerned voice cut through the haze. “Is she okay?” Paige nods. “She was trying to keep up with me,” she explains. “And you let her?” Azzi demands. “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Put her to bed in your room. And no funny business. She’s my friend.”

“Whatever, Azzi.”

Before I know it, Paige’s soft bedspread is tickling my nose. “Avantika, you want water?” She asks. I stretch out, nodding sleepily. “Here, sit up.” I let Paige feed me water, her fingers fumbling with the cap of the bottle. Then she lays me back down. “Sleep, okay?” She turns to walk out the door.

And then, like it has a mind of its own, my mouth opens. “Paige?” I whisper. She turns around immediately. “Will you stay?” I ask softly.

Wordlessly, she climbs into bed with me, kicking off her shoes. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me against her body, and I let her, breathing her scent in, happy that I get to touch her. I snuggle into her, too drunk to care about the implications of how close we are or what we were doing the last time we were both on this bed.

“Paige,” I say quietly. “Hm?” I shift to look up at her, tracing the line of her nose with my eyes. “I don’t actually hate you,” I mumble. She laughs. “You better go to sleep before you say something you regret,” she murmurs. I blink, not fully understanding her words. But I nestle against her chest, letting my arm loop around her waist.

“Avantika?” She asks after a few minutes. I don’t respond. I feel her hand tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Ava,” she repeats, more firmly. I still don’t answer, too tired to move my mouth, humming softly.

Her breath whistles against my forehead when she says what she says next.

 “God, I missed you.”

NOVEMBER 2020

“Ava.”

It’s just after a tough loss to Georgetown, and I’m exhausted. As soon as I exit the gym, though, Paige is waiting for me. I have no idea how she’s managed to get anywhere near the volleyball locker rooms.

I deliberately ignore her, brushing past her.

“Ava, come on, talk to me!” She calls, jogging after me.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I say shortly, walking faster.

“You owe me an explanation,” Paige pants, catching up to me and grabbing my arm. She spins me around to face her. “Why haven’t you answered my texts?” She demands. There’s a hint of hurt in her voice. There’s purple under her eyes. 

Fuck her.

“Didn’t even realize you’d texted me,” I say casually. 

Her eyes narrow. “That’s bullshit and we both know it.” 

I shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe I just don’t think about you as much as you think about me,” I say, rolling my eyes. She looks taken aback. The truth is I’ve thought about her every single day since that night about a week ago. I’ve replayed every moment, every touch, every word of everything she’s ever done or said to me in my head. And then I remember her leaning in to kiss Audrey. The way she cupped her face. The way she grabbed her waist and pulled her in. The way she smiled that heartbreaking smile against her lips before she pulled away.

Paige recovers from her shock quickly, reaching for me again. I step back away from her.

“Ava,” she tries again.

It hurts to hear her say that. That name for me that only she’s ever called me, and it’d only been a couple of months, but this girl had made her way into my head and my heart.

“Don’t call me that,” I tell her coldly.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer again.

“I said don’t call me that. Are you deaf?” I demand. I know I’m being rude. Mean, even. I don’t care. I need her as far away from me as possible.

Hurt flashes across her features.

“Matter of fact, don’t text me at all,” I say, disgust lacing my tone. I force it there.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this? You were all over me a week ago, just begging me to fuck you-” Her voice is raising, but mine can, too.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” I snap at her.

“You know what, you’re being such a bitch right now-” She accuses, her features twisting with annoyance.

“It’s not my fault you can’t take a fucking hint,” I sneer.

She crowds my space, towering over me, leaning down slightly to snarl against my face.

“And what was the hint I was supposed to take, hm?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s anger in her tone, dripping into me in the way her breath hits my face. She’s so close, her scent so intoxicating, that I just want to give in. “Was the hint that you were stripping for me in my bed? Or that you were moaning my name? Which one was it, Avantika?”

I slap her. Not hard, just enough that she stumbles back. Her hand flies to her cheek, eyes widening in shock. 

“I don’t want you,” I say coolly. Liar, liar, liar.

“So leave me the fuck alone.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #fic #wcbb #paige bueckers x oc #✂️ anon #uconn wbb

[strawberry-fields-things]

▸ VIII: COME A LITTLE CLOSER

pairing: hero!dream x fem!vigilante!reader

SUMMARY: things clearly aren’t always what they seem to be. with friendships being tested after last week’s revelation, and the tension growing between the league and the vigilantes, a clear question seems to rise amongst the chaos: who can you really trust?

WARNINGS: cursing, not so subtle references to a john mulaney bit, suggestive themes, alcohol, drinking, implied experimentation, mentions of murder, mentions of torture so much angst ohmygod.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

NOTE: this chapter was heavily inspired by that one john mulaney stand-up and come a little closer by cage the elephant. also! this is actually the chapter that inspired this whole series + has been sitting in my drafts since early july 2021 so,,,, good luck <3

Whoever said that getting wasted at a party full of strangers is not a healthy way of escaping from your problems clearly did not know how to have a good time.

Loud music drums against your ears with a loud steady beat. Shoulders brush against yours, plastic cup held loosely between your fingers as you weave through the crowd of people.

You don’t even know whose house this is.

Distantly, you manage to spot Hannah’s silhouette, a smile spreading on your lips. Slowly but steadily, you try to make your way towards your friend, bodies bumping against yours. After a particularly strong shove, you stumble back. A hand curls around your wrist, attempting to steady you. 

You turn your head in the direction of your aggressors, lips parting to snap at him. “Hey! Watch where you’re—”

Your voice falters inside your throat, e/c eyes caught staring at his messy light brown hair, so familiar, so—

“My bad,” Blue eyes meet with your own. Not green— blue. An unfamiliar blue. The stranger straightens, looking back at you apologetically. “you okay?”

You inhale sharply. It’s not him. Your grip tightens around your plastic cup. It’s just some guy— it’s not him. But the mental image is already there. And, before you know it, you’re back at your dorm, throwing punches, kicks—

Don’t make me do this.

His words scratch against your ears like sandpaper. Your throat grows tight and your stomach drops. You don’t like this. Your empty cup crinkles in your grip. You need to get another drink.

The guy with the blue eyes raises a brow, reaching out for you again. You flinch, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fine.”

Now that you look closer, he doesn’t even have brown hair. A foul trick of the light. “So, you come here with someone?”

You barely process his questions, quickly walking past him. “I have to go.”

More people stride past you, limbs brushing against limbs. A feeling of claustrophobia rises in your throat. Where the hell is Hannah?

You rise to the tip of your toes, finally spotting her brunette head amongst the sea of partygoers. Finally, you find her, and without missing a beat, you link your arm around hers. 

“Hi there,” she beams, her makeup glowing prettily underneath the colored lights of the party. 

“Hi Hannah,” You exhale, leaning your head against her shoulder. Hannah only continues her conversation with some other guy or girl you can’t even bring yourself to care about, easily welcoming your presence.

Under any regular circumstances, being around your close friends, particularly Hannah, tends to relax you. Ease you, in a way. Perhaps a part of you was hoping it would work. And yet, despite basking in Hannah’s calming presence, your heart still beats at an erratic pace. Your throat feels like it has stones lodged inside it.

Don’t make me do this.

This isn’t working. This is not working.

Your gaze shifts to Hannah’s face, before turning away and finding Hannah’s red cup. Without a beat to question your own actions, your hand is curling around it and bringing it to your lips.

Hannah turns to you, scoffing. “Bro—”

You shake your head, before offhandedly adding, “Trust me, I need this more than you do.”

You swallow down its contents with a worrying speed, the burn of alcohol making its way down your throat. The brunette furrows her brows, pausing for a moment. “Hey, are you okay?” Hannah asks. “You don’t look…” Her voice becomes softer, careful. You don’t quite manage to figure out what she’s saying as her words become white noise. 

You’ve been drinking enough that the ground doesn’t exactly feel steady. And yet, despite having your thoughts clouded by a thick fog, you still can’t seem to leave behind last night’s events. 

What’s it gonna take? You ask yourself. What the hell do I have to do? But instead of drawing an answer, the same image that’s been engraved onto your mind flashes once again.

His hair. His eyes. His freckles. His nose. His lips. That’s the person you’ve hated for months. The one behind the mask. The one that’s made your life impossible.

Dream. But is it right to keep calling him that?

“...Clay.”

You can’t tell if it’s because of the loud music or the amount of drinks you’ve had, but over the noise both around you and inside your head, you only barely hear Hannah saying ‘something-something Clay’.

In a drunk haze, and a brilliant moment of word association, you straighten. “Y’know what? Fuck that dude.” Your hand latches onto Hannah’s shoulder as she hurries to steady you. “Yeah, fuck Clay!”

As it turns out, the reason as to why Hannah had said something-something Clay, was because Clay was, as a matter of fact, standing behind you.

You turn around, e/c eyes meeting with those— those fucking green ones. You used to find them pretty. Now they only make you angry. You raise a finger, pointedly jabbing his chest with it. “Fuck you, Clay.”

Perhaps your words are too slurred, or maybe he simply doesn’t care. Either way, he disregards your words. He licks his lips, hands resting along your waist to steady you— and when did that happen? 

He exhales loudly. “I’m taking you home.”

You try to shove him back. A voice inside your head tells you to summon a shield and put some distance between the two of you. “No, I don’t wanna leave.” You snap at him.

“You’re drunk.”

You scoff loudly. “Yeah, so? What are you gonna do about it, big guy? Arrest me?”

Clay’s shoulders tense. Once again, instead of responding, he turns to Hannah. “Hey, Hannah, I’m driving her to her dorm, yeah?” He nudges his head towards what you guess has to be the main entrance. “Text me when you guys get home.”

Hannah breathes out, offering a smile with a thumbs up. “You’re a lifesaver.”

You want to tell her that no, he’s a liar. Worse than a liar. Instead, all you manage is, “Yeah, what a hero he is, isn’t he?”

“Okay, that’s it.” Clay runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. Except he doesn’t look nervous. What? Is he scared you’re gonna scream his secret identity off the rooftops? Is that it? Maybe you should. “You wanna be mad at me? Fine. But I’m not letting you take a cab when you can barely stand on your feet.”

“I can call Wilbur,” you retort.

“Yeah, you could,” he responds, this time matching your tone. 

You hold each other’s gazes for a few seconds. You used to love his green eyes. You once told them they were pretty. It was true— you did find them pretty. Now they only make you sad. 

Something inside you cracks. It doesn’t break. It doesn’t splinter. It simply cracks. It tugs heavy at your heart, and you have to look away from him. 

You stare at something, anything, nothing over his shoulder, still feeling his gaze on you. Your heart grows heavier and heavier, so much so that it feels as if it might sink, or snap, or break. “Whatever. Where’s your car?”

 The air in Clay’s car feels heavy. The radio plays some song you vaguely know, its beat the only thing filling the awkward silence that has piled between you. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this around him.

You lean your head against your palm, eyes focused on the view from your window. You don’t know why you agreed to come with him in the first place. 

You can feel Clay inhale sharply as he finally asks, “How’d you do it?” He gives you a quick glance before turning back to the road. An exhale of disbelief escapes his lips. “You kicked my ass.”

You don’t look back at him. “It’s basic self-defense.” Your words sound cold. “You were breaking and entering”

Clay straightens in his seat. “You took self-defense?”

This time, you turn to him. “No, Clay, I learnt watching youtube tutorials.” Sarcasm drips from your lips like poison.

He shakes his head, a small breath escaping his lips. One of his hands curls around the steering wheel while the other rests loosely between the two of you. He stares ahead, and while he’s distracted, you try to memorize his side profile. The line of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. Try to imagine his face behind the mask every time you encountered him. Every time you fought against him. Every time he’s fought against you.

“You’re staring.”

You feel heat crawling onto the tip of your ears. You scoff. “Y’know, I’m just wondering how I never saw it before.” He briefly meets your gaze, him almost looking confused. “You’d think it would take more than just a mask to turn into a self-righteous asshole.”

“Why is drunk you so much meaner than the usual you?” The car stops at a red light.

“It’s not the alcohol, it’s the company.”

Clay’s hand tightens around the steering wheel. He looks frustrated. He looks exhausted. “Look Y/N, I don’t know what you want me to do, okay?” His voice wavers by the end of his sentence. “Yes, I have another life. Yes, I’m Dream. Yes, I lied to you about it.” His jaw clicks shut, as if bracing himself. His frustrated tone of voice grows softer. “But I did it for a good reason.”

“And what reason is that?” 

“To—” he swallows a frustrated sound, his voice almost rising from his usually calm tone. “To protect you.”

You laugh. For the first time in what feels like forever, you laugh. It feels twisted, and sharp, and wrong. “To protect me? No, no, this isn’t about me, Clay.” You lean closer to him, tilting your head challengingly. “Or Dream? Do you like it better when I call you that?”

“You don’t get it.” He sounds exasperated, but there’s an edge to his voice. His green search your gaze for something he doesn't seem to find. “Do you know how many times I was this close to telling you?”

You scoff. “No, Clay, I don’t.”

The light turns green, and it takes him a moment to pull away. He turns back to the road. “Hundreds, okay? Hundreds.” His knuckles tighten around the wheel. “I wanted to tell you, I did. But the— the fear that someone would find out about you and use you against me was— is terrifying.” Clay shakes his head decidedly, “I’m not sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m just sorry you had to find out this way.”

Something burns against your chest. You want to laugh. You want to scream. Instead, you say, “Who is gonna use me against you, Dream?”

“Could you get your head out of your ass for two seconds?” He snaps, jaw tense. “I know you don’t like heroes— I know. But the world out there is dangerous, Y/N. And heroes are the only thing keeping that danger at bay.”

“The only thing?” You want to knock some sense into him. You want to scream and yell and cry. “The only thing? What about those vigilantes, huh? They’re just what?”

“Fucking criminals!” Clay exclaims, and this time you flinch. He must notice it, because regret flashes on his face as soon as he does. He levels his voice. “They’re criminals, Y/N. And I know you’re close to Ranboo, and you might think they’re all like him but they’re not.” He inhales sharply, body stiff. “The others— they take some twisted version of justice into their own hands and decide to play judge, jury and executioner. What about that sounds right to you?”

Criminals. Your best friend thinks you’re a criminal. But it’s not that part that makes your blood boil. That one just hurts. 

Who does he think he is to talk about what’s right? What the hell does he know about what’s fair? Breaking news at fucking eleven: life isn’t fair. Nothing about what has happened to you is fair. Nothing about what has happened to your family is right.

The cracks grow deeper, but any trace of sadness that was being held within your chest evaporates into the air. Your body feels hot, uncomfortable, and you need distance, you need space. 

“Stop the car.”

“What?”

“Stop the fucking car.”

Despite his initial shock, Clay does as he’s told, stopping his car on the side of the road by some convenience store parking lot. You push the door open as fast as you can, practically jumping off his car. The ground still feels unsteady, but your little exchange with Clay —with Dream— has been enough to sober you up. 

“What are you doing?” He calls out.

You fish your phone out of your pocket. “I’m calling Techno.”

“Y/N—”

You turn to look back at him, only to see him standing up from his seat and standing by his door. He doesn’t try to approach you. At the very least, he knows better than that. 

You raise your hands. “I know I’m drunk. You can just... stay here until he shows up if that’ll ease your conscience.”

He furrows his brows, almost flinching back. “What? No, wait—”

Your brother finally picks up his phone, and without missing a beat, you say, “Techno? I need a ride.”

His voice sounds distant. “I’m busy. Just drive yourself back.”

You run a hand through your hair, heart still beating inside your ears. “No, I— I’ve been drinking and Hannah was my ride.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not with Hannah, I’m with Clay.” You explain, your voice carrying an exasperated edge.

You can practically see him shrugging, that confused look taking form on his face. “I… still don’t see an issue here.”

“I don’t want to go with him.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t, Techno.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears starting to pool at the corner of your eyes. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. You face your head towards the dark night sky, closing your eyes to avoid any tears from falling. Your voice grows softer, weaker. “Could you please hurry up?”

There’s silence on the other line. For a moment, you almost believe he has hung up. Then, tentatively, you can hear Techno ask, “Did he do something to you?” There’s a dangerous new side to his voice. Paused. Controlled. Cold. “Y/N, if he laid a hand on you I promise—”

You shake your head, despite knowing he can’t see you. “No— no, we just had an argument.”

You hear shuffling on the other line, followed by, “Send me your location.”

You exhale softly. Thankfully. “Okay. Thank you.” You hang up, mentally bracing yourself. Green meet e/c. “He’s on his way.”

There’s a silence now. It’s a new thing. You’ve had arguments before, but over petty things. Certainly nothing as big as this.

He stares at you. You stare at him. It’s a helpless situation. And the question hangs in the air, unspoken— what now?

As always, he starts. “I’m sorry.” He begins slowly, softly. He still stands a good few feet away from you, and despite the distance, you can see him fiddling with his rings. Yet another anxious habit of his. You hate yourself for knowing it. “I know this all must be huge for you— expecting you to understand immediately is a dick move.”

You want to laugh. You want to cry. Because it’s not that, you want to scream. The only thing stopping you from doing so is knowing that he simply won’t get it. Perhaps Clay would have understood if you explained. But Dream?

“I’m not mad that you kept all of this a secret.” It’s the truth. If anything, that’s the one part you understand. 

He furrows his brows slightly. “Then what?” Clay lets out a tired breath, his features bordering on desperate. “Because I can fix it, I will, I—”

“Are you proud?” Your question stops him dead on his tracks. Your voice, for the first time feeling crisp, cold, honest. “Of yourself? Of what you do?” 

He hesitates. Not because of his answer —that he is sure of— but rather because of the look on your face. A look that tells him he can’t give you the response you want. 

“Of course I am.” He says, with a voice so soft it breaks your heart.

“You are?” It sounds like a plea. Like you’re begging for him to reconsider, to say what you want to hear— what you need to hear. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You wonder if he hears it. If he hears the way your heart cracks with every word that leaves his lips. “We help make the city a better place.”

“A better place for whom?” You sound exhausted. You’ve both been doing this game of cat and mouse for so, so goddamn long. You want him to understand. You need him to understand.

Please, you silently beg him, please.

“For everyone.”

“For everyone.” You repeat, those light words of his landing on you like bricks upon bricks. “What about vigilantes?”

Something flickers in his gaze, something you barely recognize in those green eyes of his. His jaw tightens, a scoff escaping his throat. “What’s with all this talk about vigilantes?” 

You barely manage to control your facial expressions. Friends or not, he’s Dream— and Dream’s not dumb. How long can you be sure to keep your identity safe from him? How long until he comes knocking at your door with the police, with the League, with the authorities rallied behind him?

“You and your— your buddies hunt them down like animals.”

“What? No we don’t.” Clay has the gall to look offended.

“Yes, you do.” You insist, voice like gravel. “I’ve seen it. I—” I’ve lived it. “I’ve seen the news. You try to track those people down to then throw them into a jail cell.” 

He shakes his head, as if saying, you don’t get it. “That’s completely different.”

“Is it?”

The silence stretches for a beat longer than it should have. He doesn’t answer, and not knowing whether it is because he understands or because he doesn’t want to continue fighting with you makes it worse. So, instead, you take the lead this time. 

Your feet guide you to him before you can stop yourself. 

“Have you ever stopped to think about the fact that while you and your friends run around in capes and masks searching for vigilantes, there’s bad people — actual bad people — getting away?”

Clay —Dream— stares down at you, and you can see the confusion swimming in his gaze. You can see him desperately trying to understand the why. 

Then, suddenly, clarity.

“Is this about Ranboo?”

Your body feels cold. Cold, and empty, and boiling hot at the same time. You feel like sinking, you feel like breaking, you feel like you’re no longer staring back into the eyes of a friend. The question cracks against your skull— just how far would he be willing to go if he knew?

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.

“What did you just say?”

The sound of a car door closing makes the two of you jump. 

“Hey.” 

You hear Techno’s voice before you actually see him. He keeps his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, pink hair pulled into a loose ponytail. He dismisses Clay almost instantly, eyes centered on you. 

“Let’s get you home.”

You inhale. Exhale. You can feel your determination faltering, your walls breaking. You just want to go home. You nod slowly, feeling as Techno’s arm wraps around your shoulders, gently guiding you to his car.

Clay takes an abrupt step forward, yet before the words can leave his throat, Techno stops him midway. His glare is enough to make the green-eyed boy freeze on his spot. “Back the fuck up.” Clay has rarely —if ever— heard Techno swear. It makes him stiffen.

And so, the boy, the hero, the enemy, is left standing helplessly as he watches you drive away.

You cradle the mug of tea between your fingers, carefully tracing its handle with your thumb. You stare down at your undrinked tea, waiting, as if you might find the answer to your troubles ebbing in its surface.

Techno sits opposite to you, fidgeting with his own drink between his palms. It doesn’t surprise you— after all, as fearsome as your brother may be to others, he’s always been awkward for this sort of situations.

He leans against the cabinets, licking his lips. Finally, he asks, “You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Techno inhales. “Look, this is a safe space, you can—”

“Techno, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but this is painful enough for both of us. Please, don’t bother.”

You meet your brother’s eyes, and he must see something crossing your gaze —something concerning— because the next words out of his mouth are;

“Go talk to Phil.”

Your head shoots up, and heart hammers against your chest like a wild canary trying to break free.

“What?” You ask, voice weak.

He sets down his mug, folding his arms over his chest. “When was the last time you went down?”

You avoid Techno’s gaze, returning to staring down at your tea. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. “I-I don’t think I want to.”

Techno breathes out, as if a heavy, unbearable weight hangs on his shoulders. He knows you’ve avoided the situation for far too long, and he’s allowed you to do so. Because he understood you needed time to heal, time to cope. But it has been months already and you’re still avoiding the basement like the plague.

“You need to face him eventually.” Techno murmurs, voice low enough so that it can only reach your ears. “If it’s any consolation, talking to him has helped me before. It’s not a guarantee, but it could work for you too.”

By the time Techno leaves the kitchen, your tea has gone completely cold. Your heart still beats against your ear drums. That rattled canary inside your chest beats against your ribcage, hands trembling.

You need to face him eventually.

You blink, and your hand is curled around the railing, clutching it as if your life depends on it. The complete and utter darkness of the basement stares back at you mockingly. 

When was the last time you went down?

Does this make you a bad daughter? Avoiding Phil like he’s not there, living your life as if what remains below doesn’t haunt you?

“One step at a time,” You whisper to yourself, bracing as you descend one step. You exhale shakily. Inhale. You take the next. Exhale. Inhale. Then the next. And before you know it, you find yourself flicking the light switch as you reach the end of the staircase.

The darkness dissipates, replaced by white fluorescent lighting. Everything looks exactly as the last time you came down. Not a pen out of place, not a handwritten note on a different spot. Vials and journals remain sprawled over the tables— a mess, evidently, but his mess.

You take slow steps, like a spooked toddler, scared the shadows might take form and jump you. Your hand traces his work bench, fingers reaching out for a particular blue post it note.

Note to self: put a door to stop Tommy from sneaking in.

Then, below it, written in a much more careless handwriting,

your doors can’t stop me phil >:D —big man tommy

An amused around reverberates at the back of your throat. Not quite a laugh, but enough to bring the faintest of smiles.

You leave the post-it exactly where you found it, before continuing your path. Finally, you reach the back of the room, where a box of old cassettes lies messily tucked next to a box-like TV.

Bittersweetness laces your heart. Before the incident, you all used to joke that Phil was an old man in his eighties. He never denied it, which just added to the hilarity of it all. He collected all of that junk— tried fixing it too. Wilbur always teased him for being sentimental.

He was always one for lost causes.

You kneel down next to the box. A hand reaches for one, before freezing midway. You look around, expecting, hoping to see someone else down here. When you realize it’s just you, you enter a random cassette into the reader.

The TV is old, older than this house, probably. Still, despite its age, a grainy image finally shows. Blond hair in disarray, beaming blue eyes, and that ever-so kind smile.

Your eyes feel blurry, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. Your lip trembles. 

“Hi, Phil.” You murmur softly, so softly, you’re left to wonder if it ever left your lips.

The grainy image doesn’t respond. It never does.

“Ah, shit, wait—” Phil starts as he accidentally hits one of his tables, a few beakers and samples nearly toppling over. He doesn’t look as tired as he did in some of the other tapes. “Okay, it’s fine, I’ll fix it later.”

He turns to the camera, clasping his hands awkwardly. “Hello!” He says enthusiastically. “This is tape number…” Phil narrows his eyes, glasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. If you weren’t focused on Phil himself, you would have noticed the fact that they’re the same glasses Wilbur now wears. “Thirty-two— thirty-three, sorry.”

You shift on the floor, watching as Phil reaches for a folder filled with papers. He scrambles to open a particular page. “According to some of their older records, test subjects were reactive to—” Phil narrows his eyes, a mix of disgust and sourness evident in his expression “—incentive shocks.” 

You inhale sharply. Phil scoffs loudly, shaking his head angrily. “Motherfuckers.”  He mutters under his breath, momentarily forgetting the camera is there. A beat. He looks back up, offering a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile. 

He raises his brows, dropping the folder onto another pile of papers and notebooks. “Well, today Tommy accidentally shocked Y/N and they accidentally caused a block-wide blackout.” He purses his lips, yet he doesn’t look disappointed. If anything, he looks surprised. 

He shakes his head, as if ridding himself of a thought. “As stated in previous logs, Tommy and Y/N’s abilities seem to be more akin to each other than what I originally thought.” Phil pushes his glasses over the bridge of his nose. “No one was hurt— thankfully. The power was out for only a few hours too— so everything turned out okay. It always does.”

He pauses for a moment, briefly glancing up at the camera. Your heart drops to your gut. It always does. You want nothing more than curl against Phil and make him repeat it until you believe it.

Everything turns out okay. It always does. It always does. It always does.

“As for Wilbur and Techno, they both still seem very wary of electricity in general. Cautious.” Phil straightens, lab coat wrinkly. “At first, I thought their wariness had to do with the fact that neither of their skills are energy-based. Upon further inspection, I’ve drawn a different conclusion.” 

Phil inhales deeply. Then, exhales. His body is stiff, awkward. Something new edges his voice. “It’s not that Wilbur and Techno harbor an aversion and are borderline scared to interact with electricity, but rather Tommy and Y/N aren’t.” 

Phil moves out of frame for a brief second, coming back with an object concealed by his palm. “Wil and Techno still get easily spooked when it comes to Tommy’s accidental shocks, which is why I’ve developed these.” He licks his lips anxiously. 

Your eyes don’t linger on the power dampening cuffs. They don’t even stray for a second. No, your whole focus remains on him. On the golden hair he passed down to Tommy. On the easy smile he gave to Wilbur. You want to hug him, and realizing it hurts like hell. 

You can’t even remember your life before being adopted by Phil. How the fuck are you supposed to continue without him?

“They’re still a prototype, but dampening cuffs should help Tommy slowly ease into his powers without sudden outbursts that he can’t control.” Phil’s steady voice continues undisturbed, “It should also give them a semblance of normalcy.”

You’re no longer listening. He continues talking, gesturing, reading off notes and discarding them. He looks happy. He looks alive.

“I’ll be recording any future progress in the following tapes,” Phil finalizes, and the tape cuts off.

Your reflection stares back at you. Your cheeks look wet. You’re crying, you realize, when did that happen?

“I’m sorry,” You whimper, voice fragmented. There’s no response. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry Phil.” 

Your hand trails around the box of cassettes. Some are labeled, others aren’t. There’s at least forty in the box, and you know for a fact there’s more boxes somewhere in the lab. 

“I should have come sooner,” You croak, “I shouldn’t have waited until something went wrong to come here.” Stray tears roll down your cheeks and gravel grazes against your throat. “I’m sorry.”

There’s so many things you want to say. So many things you need to say. But your body won’t let you. Your voice abandons you, and you can’t continue apologizing. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Why is it that good people are the ones getting caught in this bullshit? He didn’t deserve this. None of you deserved this.

So why? Why is it that good people end up dead? Why is it that good people like your family end up suffering the consequences of someone else’s greed?

Your voice returns to you, but not for apologies.

“Would you recognize what I’ve become?” You lean against the TV screen, helpless. “What we’ve become?” You lick your lips, a bitter laugh rasping against your windpipe. “Would you still love us?” 

Would he? Phil was gone long before he got to see the real extent of the lengths you’ve all gone through to set things right. Would he be proud? Would he be ashamed?

“We’ve done so much fucked up shit, Phil.” You whisper, vision blurry with tears. “We’ve tortured. We’ve lied. We’ve stolen. We—” You falter, licking your lips as the lump inside your throat grows heavier. “We’ve tried to kill.” 

“And you wanna know the worst part?” You look down at your hands. You can’t look him in the eyes when you say this. He wouldn’t understand. “I don’t regret any of it.” You laugh again, that bitter, saddened, poor excuse of a laugh. “We’ll do it again soon, if everything goes accordingly.”

You rest your forehead against the TV, the image of your father frozen with a grainy quality. You can barely tell the bright blue of his eyes, not that you’d ever be able to forget it. 

“I just want this to end,” you murmur. “I want us to finish with this cycle once and for all. I want this to be over.” You look up to meet Phil’s grainy gaze. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”

And fuck, here come the tears again. 

“I didn’t ask for this,” you cry. You ugly sob, your cries scratching against your throat like sandpaper. Like stones lodged against your throat. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

I know you didn’t, he would say, his fingers combing through your hair in a calming pattern. He would hug you as you cried your eyes out, his embrace capable of soothing the troubled storm within your chest. You’ve been so strong for your brothers. For yourself. He would continue tracing his fingers through your hair, watching as you breathed shakily.

I’m proud of you.

Your eyes flutter closed. You shake your head against the screen as you whisper to him, “I don’t think you are.”

You can feel his palm against your back, rubbing soothing patterns. It only makes it worse.

“We wanted to do good, Phil, we really, really did.” You try, you try to justify everything. Everything you’ve done, everything you’re going to do. “We tried, for a while.”

“I guess…” A blue glow curls around your hands for a moment, before flickering back to normal. It has become easy to forget where your powers came from. “I guess when powers like these are birthed from violence, it shouldn’t be a surprise we ended up where we are, huh?”

You purse your lips, watching as the blue returns to your palms. Is it easy to forget, or have you simply forced yourself into ignoring the source of your so-called gift? 

You stare back at the screen. Phil stands there, staring back at you with those bright blue eyes of his and that golden hair. 

You barely mention him anymore. Not you, not Tommy, not Wilbur, not Techno. It’s like you’re all in some twisted form of collective denial. Like he’s on some business trip, and you’re all waiting for him to come back. Like you didn’t bury him months ago. Like you weren’t even able to give him a proper funeral.

It makes things easier. Anger was easier than grief. It was less messier than tears, than misery, than hopelessness. Anger was better than guilt. 

“We’re gonna kill the people that did this to us, Phil.” You say, and this time, your voice doesn’t waver. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve, nodding. “For what they— for what we did to you.”

You finally separate from the screen. Your finger hovers over the on-off button. 

“We’re gonna make this right.”

#[how the mighty fall] series #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dani writes mcyt #dani writes dream smp #mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken imagine #dream x reader #dream imagine #dani writes dreamwastaken

[moviebracket]

One group of polls will go up each day and polls will be a week long! Submissions will remain open through the end of the first round, and I'll add some more first round groups depending on submission numbers! Apologies for the brief absence, I had some personal stuff going on.

Movies that lose by smaller margins may have a chance to return to the bracket at the end of Round 1.

Round 1 Group A

Lilo & Stitch (78%) vs Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio (22%)

Pan's Labyrinth (53%) vs Mickey, Donald, Goofy: The Three Musketeers (47%)

Legally Blonde (96%) vs The Last Temptation of Christ (4%)

Brother Bear (59%) vs Kubo and the Two Strings (41%)

Round 1 Group B

Stardust (47%) vs Heathers (53%)

The Batman (2022) (47%) vs Moulin Rouge! (53%)

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (58%) vs Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (42%)

Now You See Me (78%) vs Morbius (22%)

Round 1 Group C

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (29%) vs The Prince of Egypt (71%)

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (32%) vs The Princess Bride (68%)

Rogue One (33%) vs Spirited Away (67%)

Goncharov (90%) vs Love Actually (10%)

Round 1 Group D

A Silent Voice (38%) vs Princess Mononoke (62%)

How to Train Your Dragon (65%) vs The Sound of Music (35%)

Knives Out (43%) vs Howl's Moving Castle (57%)

Little Miss Sunshine (42%) vs The Little Mermaid (1989) (58%)

Round 1 Group E

A Quiet Place (45%) vs Zombieland (55%)

10 Things I Hate About You (72%) vs Lemonade Mouth (28%)

Juno (21%) vs The Addams Family (1991) (79%)

The Parent Trap (1998) (54%) vs Bend It Like Beckham (46%)

Round 1 Goup F

Rent (48%) vs West Side Story (2021) (52%)

Elf (39%) vs The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (61%)

Hairspray (2007) (43%) vs Mamma Mia! (57%)

Clueless (51%) vs Miss Congeniality (49%)

Round 1 Group G

Forrest Gump (50%) vs Kingsman: The Secret Service (50%)

Enchanted (69%) vs Ferris Bueller's Day Off (31%)

Battle Royale (45%) vs High School Musical (55%)

Matilda (1996) (60%) vs Chicago (40%)

Round 1 Group H

Mean Girls (54%) vs School of Rock (46%)

The Hitman's Bodyguard (25%) vs Grease (75%)

The Nightmare Before Christmas (51%) vs Parasite (49%)

The Wizard of Oz (46%) vs Star Wars: A New Hope (54%)

Round 1 Group I

Populaire (13%) vs Labyrinth (87%)

Matilda (2022) (17%) vs Kung Fu Panda (83%)

Superman (1978) (44%) vs The Sixth Sense (56%)

The Martian (65%) vs Trainspotting (35%)

Round 1 Group J

Dune (37%) vs Back to the Future (63%)

Phineas and Ferb: Across the 2nd Dimension (44%) vs The Return of the King (56%)

Home Alone (63%) vs Frozen (37%)

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (59%) vs Meet the Robinsons (41%)

Round 1 Group K

Crazy Rich Asians (68%) vs The Phantom of the Opera (2004) (32%)

Alien (75%) vs Mulholland Drive (25%)

The Imitation Game (39%) vs The Simpsons Movie (61%)

Castle of Cagliostro (59%) vs Once Upon a Time in the West (41%)

Round 1 Group L

North by Northwest (22%) vs Arrietty (78%)

Scream (53%) vs War and Peace (1966/1967) (47%)

Arrival (18%) vs The Rocky Horror Picture Show (82%)

Little Shop of Horrors (1986) (55%) vs Night at the Museum (45%)

Round 1 Group M

Steven Universe: The Movie vs Atlantis: The Lost Empire

Everything Everywhere All at Once vs Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

Rise of the Guardians vs She's the Man

Pacific Rim vs Treasure Planet (2002)

Round 1 Group N

Deadpool vs Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse

Pitch Perfect vs Get Out

The Perks of Being a Wallflower vs Mad Max: Fury Road

Inception vs The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

Round 1 Group O

The Princess Diaries vs Paddington

Pride vs Velvet Goldmine

Shrek 2 vs The Devil Wears Prada

Saw vs But I'm a Cheerleader

Round 1 Group P

Evil Dead 2 vs Nope

Whip It vs I Love You Phillip Morris

Jennifer's Body vs Ginger Snaps

Bodies Bodies Bodies vs The Social Network

Round 1 Group Q

The Mummy (1999) vs The Silence of the Lambs

Fight Club vs The History of Future Folk

Cyrano vs Beetlejuice

Die Hard vs While You Were Sleeping

Round 1 Group R

Cocaine Bear vs Boy Meets Girl

Clue vs Dungeons and Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

Coco vs Wendell & Wild

The Lost Boys vs Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

#bracket #tournament #movies

[delicatenightfury]

"I don't have the courage."

2021 Month of Writing: Day 24

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Prompt (from the Webtoon comic UnHoly Blood):

Word Count: 1,608

Author's Note: please don't steal my work. you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

“Master Jason, you must rest.”

Jason shook his head.

“I can’t, Alfred. Not until…”

He swallowed, unable to finish his sentence, and looked down. Alfred gently placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“I understand,” he sighed, “but you must know that she would not want to see you like this. You’ve barely eaten or slept in days.”

“I know.”

“If I make you something, will you promise to eat it?” Jason hesitated in his answer. Alfred sighed. “I’ll send Master Dick by with lunch.”

Jason kept his eyes down as Alfred stepped out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him. After another minute, he slowly lifted his head and his heart broke a little bit more at the sight before him.

Lying on the bed before him was Y/N. Her eyes were closed, just as they had been for the last few days. She had a few small cuts on her face and the larger ones on her arms had been cleaned and wrapped. An IV was stuck in her arm and a heart monitor sat in the corner, connected to her and beeping steadily. 

It was his fault. He was the reason she was in this state. He hadn’t protected her like he said he would… He had failed her and this was the result.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered. He carefully lifted her hand to rest in his. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I should have been paying more attention. I should have… God, there are so many things I should have done differently. I should have stopped them. I should never have formed this partnership. I never should have allowed myself to get close, to be vulnerable around you. I have so many enemies… and because of all of that, you got hurt.”

Jason shut his eyes and pressed his forehead to their clasped hands.

“I don’t even know when you’re going to wake up. Y/N, I need you to wake up.” When he exhaled, his breath came out shaky. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the courage… to tell you this when you’re awake. But I can’t do this without you. I need you, Y/N. I can’t lose you. Please, I… can’t.”

He froze when he felt something move against his forehead and sift through his bangs lightly. He slowly pulled away just enough to look up, his eyes connecting with a familiar pair of e/c ones. He couldn’t stop the hitch in his throat.

“Hey,” Y/N said, her voice rough.

Jason had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat before answering.

“Hey…”

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

“Everyone okay?” she asked.

Jason couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, everyone’s okay.”

“Are you okay?” Jason was about to answer, when she cut him off. “Don’t think about lying to me, Jason Todd. If I asked any of your family members, what would they tell me?”

Jason looked down and shook his head.

“You’re always thinking about others before yourself.”

“Well someone’s got to. You men have a tendency to go home with more bruises than you start with.”

Jason squeezed her hand. The lump in his throat was back and he couldn’t find the strength to answer. Images flashed before his eyes. She was on the ground… there was blood… she wasn’t moving… was she still even breathing? Oh god, what if she wasn’t breathing?

“...on. Jason. Jay!” His eyes snapped back to hers, which softened. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. I’m all right. A little banged up, but I’ll be up and moving in no time.”

Jason shook his head.

“Y/N, you… you weren’t… god, there was so much blood.”

She tugged on his arm, gently pulling him into bed with her. He tried to protest, but her grip tightened on his hand and her eyes left no room for argument. With a little adjusting, the two managed to find a comfortable position, which was a little surprising given how large Jason was.

Y/N pulled his head down, letting it lay on her chest. He took a deep breath when he could hear the steady beat of her heart. He had been hearing the heart monitor’s constant beeping for too long. In fact, he almost didn’t believe it. But hearing her actual heartbeat… That alone filled him with relief. He wrapped his arms around her, holding on tight.

“I thought you were gone,” he muttered.

Y/N held onto him just as tight.

“I’m okay, Jay. I’m right here. Not going anywhere, okay?”

One of her arms stayed firmly wrapped around his shoulders while the other traveled into his hair. Jason sighed at the feeling and almost let himself melt into her. He felt her nuzzle her nose into his hair, an action that made his mouth lift at the corner. 

“What couldn’t you tell me?”

Jason had to fight the urge to tense at her quiet question. 

“What?”

“I heard what you said. That you didn’t have the courage to tell me something while I was awake.” She pulled back enough to look down at him, though he kept his eyes shut to avoid meeting hers. “What couldn’t you tell me?”

Jason didn’t speak for several minutes. His mind was a whirlwind, trying to formulate some kind of answer to give her. Images kept popping up before his eyes… all of them about her. When they first met a year ago during a drug bust, then a couple of months later when she revealed her identity to him and he revealed his in turn. When they would meet on the rooftops to start their partnered patrolling of the city. Those times where they would crash at each others’ apartments after a rough night. They would take turns patching each other up if needed. And sometimes those nights would lead to her helping fight off his nightmares. He saw flashes of her smile, heard her laugh ringing in his ears. He saw her dancing, interacting with his brothers and family, simply being there when he needed her. Then he saw her fighting… and bleeding…

He hadn’t realized that she had resumed moving her hand through his hair until he shifted. She had been quiet the whole time, giving him whatever time he needed. And he knew from experience that she wouldn’t pry if he asked her not to, but he also knew that she could be stubborn. That was something he…

“I couldn’t lose you,” he eventually whispered. “I couldn’t… I thought I was going to and I couldn’t let that happen. I… realized that I couldn’t keep doing this if you weren’t there. I would… lose myself, go back to the way I used to be. I realized… just how much I needed you.”

He finally pulled back and sat up so he was looking straight into her face. She hadn’t spoken a word, just let him talk as he needed. Even now, she looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Jason exhaled, his breath coming out shaky. His lips pressed together as he forced a small smile.

“Y/N… I need you. Not just on patrol, not just as a friend. No, I need you. I want you to be with me all the time. And I know that might sound horrible in some way, wanting you with me all the time, but I can’t help it. I want to protect you, and hold you, and love you in every way that I can. I just… I can’t lose you.”

Y/N smiled at him. 

“I’m going nowhere, Jay,” she said. She placed her hand on his cheek, careful of her IV as she ran her thumb softly over one of his older scars. “And I don’t think that sounds messed up at all. You know why?” She waited for him to shake his head slightly. “Because I love you too.”

His eyes lit up. He pulled her into his chest, holding her tight. She pushed him back after a few moments but only enough so that she could kiss him. The two couldn’t help but smile and laugh as they finally acted upon their feelings. They eventually ended up settling back down, only to have adjusted their position in the bed. Jason was now the one holding Y/N, arms protectively and lovingly around her. Her head lay on his chest, hand tracing some of the muscles in his arm.

Jason leaned down enough to plant another kiss on her head.

“When you’re let out of here, I’m taking you on an actual date,” he said.

Y/N laughed, tilting her head up so she could kiss him properly.

“Looking forward to it.”

What neither noticed was that they had a spectator. In the hall, Dick was observing through the window and couldn’t help but grin at what he was seeing. He had merely been coming in to drop off food from Alfred. Instead, he got to witness his first younger brother finally kiss the girl he liked for so long.

Dick chose to take a seat in a nearby chair, letting the love birds have their privacy before he brought in food. He smiled as he pulled out his phone, snuck a quick picture, then pulled up the “Bat-Fam” group chat (minus Jason). He sent two quick texts as well as the picture.

She’s awake and doing okay.

He told her.

Dick had to quickly silence his phone as a flood of text messages started coming in from the rest of his family.

#month of writing #writing prompt #Jason todd #red hood #Jason Todd x reader #red hood x reader

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

Top 5 quckity moments??????

I assume you mean c!Quackity?

5. His conversation with c!Bad after being taken to the Egg. From c!Karl's message being the thing to snap him out of his stupor, to the sheer panic in his voice, to his declaration that he indeed wants power but never at anyone or anything else's behest, to him desperately trying to reason with c!Bad, to his insistence that they can use the Egg for good (???)... GOD it makes my brain do jumping jacks

4. Okay. We all know about c!Schlatt's funeral. We all know about the cannibalism. And I almost put that here, too (so consider it an honorable mention). But I don't think enough attention is paid to him trying to bring Schlatt to life for "political reasons" immediately afterward. Oh, this little bastard and his complicated grieving processes...

3. I could honestly fill this whole list with only scenes from the Manberg arc, but I'll highlight Plan Ass specifically as an S-tier c!Quackity moment. He went back to negotiate with and swindle the man he was scared would kill him (while allegedly pregnant with his child!) all to dissuade c!Wilbur from sending the country he loved up in flames...

2. Much like Manberg, all of Doomsday could go here (for him, at least. My feelings about the event itself are... somewhat more ambivalent). Him singing the anthem and remembering the second verse, him asking c!Niki what's wrong and trying to persuade her to help, his incandescent hatred for c!Dream, "SaPnAp HoLd Me I'm ScArEd..."

But my favorite part without a doubt is his pre-battle turnaround. Man was so close to getting the hell outta dodge, but he was persuaded to return by the words of someone he wanted to execute only 24 hours prior. Then, he spent half the battle trying to return the book. And THEN, after all was said and done, he reached out to that person as a possible ally. Where are my boober friends to talk about this with me PLEASE-

Also, "let the horse run free" still makes me tear up a little. He loved that bag of bones so much. It was a reminder of happier times...

1. The entire day's events of September 14, 2021. On the same day he tried to torture two men to death, he jumped into lava without hesitation to save his best friend's life. And both times, they slipped away from his grasp.

If that doesn't neatly summarize his character and the reasons I love him, I don't know what does.

Honorable mention: every possible variation of the scene I made up in my head of c!Fundy leaving Las Nevadas and c!Quackity not killing him despite the contract's threats

Honorable honorable mention: that one six-hour c!Foolish stream I'm fucking obsessed with. That's a better c!Foolish moment, though. So that's another potential ask at least partially filled out

Honorable honorable honorable mention (hey he's my specialest guy don't @ me): literally every time he's ever interacted with c!Tommy or c!Tubbo

#asks #dsmp #c!quackity

[ficwriterwastakenalt]

The (cute) new Neighbour P2

@anonymoushumanbeing

Yn grew panicked and grabbed her notepad, frantically scribbling down everything she remembered about the man. Wilbur Soot -Brown fluffy hair -pretty chocolate brown eyes -about 6'3 Willow Soot  -Blonde  -Brown eyes "What did you write down, hun?" her mother said, and Yn's gaze went to her mother. "This person I had in a dream," Yn stated, standing up and leaving the book on her bed.

Yn went into her bathroom and changed her clothes. "This is the same clothes in my dream," Yn said as she put on a white skirt and a black cropped laced tank top. "It's just a dream," Yn said, shaking her head. Before exiting the bathroom, Yn brushed her h/c hair and teeth (as well as her makeup, if wanted).

"So this Wilbur Soot person who was he in your dream," Yn gathered her bags and the notebook. "He was my neighbour, he had a daughter named Willow, and he was also a professor," Yn sat down, dumping all her baggage to the floor by her legs. "Well, maybe he'll win your heart over," Yn's mother said, nodding.  "He's not real, he was in my dream momma," Yn murmured as she rolled her eyes and blushed slightly. While she kicked her feet back and forth.

"Perhaps it's a sign" "Sure momma," Yn said as she got out of bed and gathered up her luggage again. "I'll visit momma and tell dad I said bye," Yn said as she slipped out of her room, leaving her mother on the bed, staring at all the items that Yn had left behind.

Yn pulled up to the house and glanced at it; it was exactly like her dream only the house was blue instead of white. Yn got out of her car, grabbed her bookbag, and crossed the street. Yn gazed at the door, which seemed to be taunting her, "you know the door won't open if you stare at it." Yn froze because she recognised the accent. It was the blonde boy who also hung around with Wilbur.

"Thanks for that advice," Yn replied as she clutched her notebook. The boy raised his head to look at what was put on the paper and his eyes widened. "You looking for Wilbur and WIllow?" he inquired. Yn hastily hid the book even though it was too late.

"Before I came here, I had a dream about them" The boy appeared perplexed, so Yn explained the dream to him and learned his name was Tommy "Do you know who Wilbur is? "Yea, I know Wil and Willow, c'mon, I'll take you to them," Tommy said, lowering his head as he stepped off the stairs.

"You will?" Yn questioned, her face lit up with hope as he nodded. "But you can't judge," Tommy remarked, causing Yn to nod. "Of course I won't," she replied as she stood up and began following the boy.

They walked and talked about Willow and Wilbur, and Phil was the older blonde Yn saw in her dream. Yn hadn't realised they walked into a graveyard.

Tommy came to a halt in front of two gravestones that were set close to each other. 'Wilbur soot dear friend and father September 14, 1996- December 1, 2021', Yn read over the stones, tears welling up in her eyes. Yn shifted her gaze to the other 'Willow Soot beloved daughter, March 9, 2012-December 1, 2021'. Yn sat down in front of the two graves and said, "a minute?" Tommy nodded and walked away Yn  took out her phone and dialled her mother's number "Hey mum, you were right, he's fantastic."

"That wonderful news, sweetheart, please let me speak with him" "I'll give you a picture of him instead, mum," Yn said as tears streamed down her face. Yn said her goodbyes quickly and hung up before snapping a photo of the two graves to send to her mother.

'He seems wonderful, hun'  texted her mother "Tommy," she shouted as she ran up to the boy, "let's go get flowers for them."  Yn said, a smile on her tear-streaked face as she looked over her shoulder at the stones.

#dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp oneshot #dsmp fanfic #dsmp au #wilbur #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot #wilbur soot fanfic #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp au #tommy is mentioned #tommyinnit #philza #mcyt #mcyt au #mcyt fanfiction

[dearly-somber]

I Know I’m A Wolf | k.yh | day6

-> pairing. idol!younghyun x possessive! werewolf!reader (f)

-> genre. werewolf!au, yandere

-> rating. 16+

-> w/c. 552

-> warnings. dub-con vibes: yandere-type thinking and behavior; possessive, territorial and obsessive behavior; animalistic behavior

-> a/n. I got this song from a really good YouTube animatic called “Dear Rabbit” by Frumpy Doggy which heavily inspired the overall vibes for this.

-> collection. songfic

-> started. Sept. 11th, 2020 @ 14:30

-> fin. ???

-> edited. Aug. 21st, 2021 @ 22:14

<LISTEN TO THE SONG HERE!>

You watch Younghyun from amidst the crowd, your eyes focused on his every move, however subtle. The want to claim him for yourself is strong—overpowering even.

The crowd cheered, and you saw how Brian turned to look at you. You met eyes with him, your hands clenched as you let out something short of a snarl, wanting to chase after him then and there. You saw fear flash before his eyes, watching as he shivered before shakily continuing on with his verse. His eyes darting to you throughout the rest of the song, heart beating just a little faster each time.

You continued watching him, his smell intoxicating, making you close your eyes blissfully. You smiled to yourself, eyes fluttering. He'd be yours soon, you knew. Just you wait, you thought expectantly.

•••

It's been two weeks since his last showcase.

You still haven't made your move, but the urge to claim him was getting stronger, and it's been depriving you of your sleep. Every waking moment was spent thinking of him. It would take one bite. One simple bite, to claim him for yourself and show others he was yours.

Your wolf was prancing at just the thought of it. He was right there, looking so out in the open. So vulnerable. Just waiting for you to run to him—

It took only a second to realize that there was another wolf nearby. Your eyes immediately landed on them, a low snarl escaping your lips, making the MyDay around you turn around with wide, frightened eyes.

It's now or never, you thought, snapping your gaze back to Younghyun. You leapt forward, people screaming as they saw your golden, glowing eyes, the animalistic growl emmiting from deep within your chest sending shivers down their spines. Brian yelled, trying to back up but falling over a cable, crawling away desperately. Sungjin and Jae were quickly scurrying to find security, Wonpil and Dowoon shouting from somewhere to the left of you, sounding just as frightened as the others. You could hear Brian's heart hammering against his chest in a panicked frenzy, his eyes wide with fear.

You crouched down, hovering over him with glowing eyes. He was panting, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. "Please," he begged you in a shaky voice, "Please, leave me alone—"

"Oh, my poor thing..." You cooed, gently taking his chin in your hands to tilt his head back, exposing his neck for you to admire.

"You'll be fine, my dear rabbit." You muttered quietly, throwing your head back to lunge forward. You bit into his neck, your canines leaving a simmering red mark while simultaneously sending Younghyun writhing underneath you, the pain he was feeling unbearable. It felt like you had injected something into his system, something that was eating him inside out. Pulling away, you lick gently at the wound, Younghyun crying and whimpering beneath you as he tried to push you off of him, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry, dear rabbit. You're alright now.~" You hum, licking one last time at the wound before kissing the marked spot, pulling away to stare at his tear stained face fondly.

"Your wolf will take good care of you..." You whisper with a smile, Younghyun's eyes flashing a bright yellow, a strangled gasp leaving his throat.

#day6 x reader #day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #day6 young k #day6 x you #day6 #young k x you #young k x reader #young k #kang younghyun #kang younghyun x you #kang younghyun x reader #ao3 #archive of our own #a/b/o fic #a/b/o au #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf au #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o fanfic #hybrid #hybrids #hybrid au #kpop fics #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop ff #kpop fanfiction #somber’s songfic collection

[beardedmrbean]

A 36-year-old woman was charged with murder over a 2021 fire in a Queens apartment — which took place the same day she shoved a man in an anti-Asian subway attack, authorities said this week.

Tandika Wright was busted Friday in connection to the Dec. 9, 2021 blaze at NYCHA’s QueensBridge North Houses that killed 49-year-old Lavina Nolley, police said.

Wright is accused of cutting Nolley several times before setting the second-floor apartment on fire sometime between 6:30 and 7:10 p.m., according to a criminal complaint against her.

Earlier that day, Wright had hurled an anti-Asian slur at a 26-year-old man and attacked him on a Manhattan train, police said.

She approached the victim on an F train near the 23rd Street station around 6:15 p.m. and snarled, “Hey, are you a c—k? You people brought the virus here. You people killed my people,” cops said. 

Wright — who was out on parole at the time — shoved him twice and snapped, “Get the virus away from me,” before spitting on him, according to Manhattan prosecutors.

She was arrested in that case on Jan. 20, 2022 and charged with second-degree aggravated harassment, authorities said. She pleaded guilty to the charge in May 2022 and was sentenced to 60 days in jail, according to prosecutors.

On Jan. 28, Wright found herself in cuffs again when she allegedly punched her roommate and hit him with a table during a squabble inside their apartment on Mother Gaston Boulevard in Brownsville, Brooklyn, according to the criminal complaint. 

Her charges included a top count of misdemeanor assault – which is not bail-eligible, and she was released on her own recognizance, Brooklyn prosecutors said.

In addition to the murder rap, she now also faces charges of manslaughter, assault, arson and weapons possession in Nolley’s killing in Queens.

Nolley’s body was discovered inside the flame-ravaged home on 12th Street near 41st Avenue in Dutch Kills, and her death was ruled a homicide about five months later. She died of smoke inhalation and multiple cuts to her body, cops said at the time.

Nolley lived about a half-mile from the building where the blaze took place. It’s not clear what she was doing in the apartment at the time. Her relationship to Wright is not known. 

Wright was ordered held without bail at her arraignment, according to online court records. 

She was previously arrested for second-degree murder in 2014, but convicted of attempted manslaughter and served prison time until 2019, when she was released on parole. 

Her parole expired last month, state corrections records show. 

Wright also has a prior arson conviction from 2011 – and served about two-and-a-half years in state prison for that offense, according to the records.

Her entire rap sheet includes about three dozen arrests.

#nunyas news

[bloodfromthethorn]

Broken Bones

Falling without any kind of safety net isn't really anyone's idea of a good time. Turns out, landing's worse.

Part twenty-one of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3.

..

Despite what everyone seemed to believe, Mac couldn’t actually pin down when, precisely, he’d developed his fear of heights. Bozer had always tended to assume it had something to do with that time Donnie had ‘accidentally’ shoved him off the top of the climbing frame in the gym and he’d wound up with a concussion after falling ten feet, but the truth was the fear was much older than that. His earliest memories were hazy and indistinct at the best of times, but he had a vague sense of his mother soothing him when he’d been afraid of the edge of his granddad’s deck. As an adult he could comprehend that the drop was scarcely five feet, but to his tiny child’s frame, it had seemed like miles.

Regardless, the point was that the fear predated any concrete event he could put a name to. Maybe he had fallen as a child, but he didn’t have anyone left to consult about that theory. Instead, he’d chosen to accept long ago that it was simply an innate aspect of his personality that he’d have to deal with. Before he’d become a spy he hadn’t realised he’d have to confront that particular fear quite so often, but such was the price he paid for the life he chose to live.

All of that being said, he’d never quite understood why so many people were intent on telling him that his acrophobia was an irrational fear. Clearly the people saying that had never been dangling off the edge of a third floor balcony by nothing but their fingertips.

“Hang on, hoss, I’m almost to you.”

“Please don’t say ‘hang on’,” he snapped back, strained. His eyes stung with sweat, and he could feel tremors trying to infest overworked muscles, held back only by the absolute knowledge that if he so much as shifted, he’d lose his tentative grip on the iron railings. He’d made a point of not looking down, but the overactive imagination he’d never been able to constrain was more than happy to fill in the blank, gaping void he knew was beneath him.

“Yeah, okay, my bad,” Jack replied, sounding almost as out of breath as his partner. Mac knew that he was racing towards him as fast as he possibly could, but he’d been on the other side of the compound when the blast had nearly thrown Mac clear out of the building. It was going to take him a hot minute to navigate the complicated stairwells and corridors. “Just keep talking to me, alright? Keep me in the loop.”

“Talking- ah- talking’s not all that easy.”

Truthfully, breathing wasn’t all that easy just then. Dangling from his arms as he was meant that he couldn’t properly expand his ribcage without pulling himself up a little every time, and he could already feel the heavy weight of fatigue settling in his muscles. If Jack didn’t show up soon, there was a good chance Mac would pass out from oxygen deprivation before he figured out a way to get back on solid ground.

“I know it’s not. I’m going to be there any minute now, don’t you worry.”

“Mind- mind the-” He struggled, swallowed, ran out of air, and then blinked away the black spots in his vision with determination. He needed help but he’d be damned if he let Jack get hurt trying to save his sorry ass. “Debris,” he hissed.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard the boom, don’t think I didn’t. What have I told you about playing with explosives when I’m not around, huh?” There was a sudden, thoughtful pause. “Do you know if there are any other charges I need to worry about?”

The same, abrupt fear that his partner had just encountered washed through Mac like a wave. He would have slumped in place if he could; as it was, he could do nothing but force himself to breathe. “Don’t think- so. Not sure.”

“Proceed with caution then, I hear you.” From the continued panting Mac could hear over the radio, he’d wager that Jack hadn’t so much as broken stride. He was far too well-trained to not be cautious of walking into what could be a literally-explosive situation, but equally, there wasn’t a chance he was going to leave Mac when he was in so precarious a position.

Instead of wasting the last of his oh-so-precious air participating in an argument he would lose, Mac took the time to try to bolster his fading reserves. His whole body was starting to hurt, but by far the worst was the burning, blazing ache of his hands and shoulders. Every beat of his heart lit them up with fresh pain and he feared that if he faltered even a little, they’d fail him in an instant. Even with a will of iron and an intense desire to not fall off this balcony, thank you very much, he knew that he didn’t have much longer left in him.

In the back of his mind, buried under sheer blind stubbornness and a reckless streak a mile wide, he heard the gentle, persistent call of the ground far beneath him.

“Jack,” he murmured helplessly. There was no breath left in him to put strength in the word; all he could do was whisper it with his final, heaving exhale.

“Mac,” his partner snapped back, but it sounded so distant. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and no amount of blinking rid him of them. In a last ditch effort at getting the leverage he needed to take a breath, he kicked out his legs to find nothing but empty air; the balcony he was clinging to protruded several feet out from the main wall, leaving his entire body entirely disconnected from the structure. He didn’t have strength left in his arms to even try pulling himself up.

Maybe it he’d had a little more leverage, or maybe if the explosion that had knocked him over the railing in the first place hadn’t winded him so badly, or maybe if he’d been just a little bit stronger-

-but no.

His strength was spent. The darkness rose up to claim him like a mother might wrap a child in a warm blanket. The last thing he felt was the cold iron of the railing slipping away from his fingertips.

..

There was a moment when Jack approached the crumpled body of his partner in which he was certain that he’d failed. Desperation and urgency were both high in his blood but they weren’t enough to stop him skidding to a sharp halt a few metres away, some deep seated part of his mind begging him to pause so he could brace himself for what he was about to discover. A stupid instinct really – there was no amount of time on earth that would be enough to prepare himself for identifying the corpse of the man he’d dedicated the last ten years of his life to.

But it was only a heartbeat. Hiding from the truth wasn’t going to make it hurt any less, and the rest of the team on the radio deserved answers.

He forced himself to take a shaking step forwards, then another, then another, and then all of a sudden he was crashing to his knees besides Mac’s still form. His first observation, unwanted as it might be, was that there was surprisingly little blood for such a long fall. He instantly shut that line of thinking down and reached out with a trembling hand to feel for the pulse point on the side of Mac’s neck.

It was still beating.

The breath rushed out of him in one smooth swoop, so forceful he nearly collapsed in on himself from the sheer relief of it. It was the most he allowed himself; with the next breath, he was back in action.

“Matty,” he snapped, knowing she was listening with baited breath, “Mac’s alive. Get me a medevac right now.”

She breathed out an exclamation of relief that Jack only half listened to, preoccupied as he was with establishing visible injuries without touching Mac. He might still be alive – thank god – but there was no telling what damage had been done by the fall. The one thing they had going for them was that Mac had had the luxury of falling onto reasonably soft ground; two days of solid rain had softened up the bare earth that ringed the entire exterior of the building and while it was hardly a crash mat, they’d be looking at a very different story if it had been concrete.

From what he could see, the kid’s left leg was badly broken, presumably having taken the first impact, and his left arm was, if not broken, then at the very least displaced. It was hard to identify quite how badly, given that Mac was slumped on his side and Jack couldn’t get a good angle on it without moving him, but he definitely wasn’t lying right for his shoulder to still be in one piece. The rasping breathing also paid tribute to what was likely to be more than a few broken ribs. Further up, a gash over his eyebrow revealed where his head had finally hit the ground. Jack could only hope that he’d managed to absorb enough of the shock elsewhere that he hadn’t managed to scramble his brain.

In all, it looked like a textbook example of someone who had been trained how to fall while minimising injury. Trust Mac to pull off efficient aerial manoeuvres while free-falling and barely conscious.

Without evidence of any nasty bleeds, Jack’s attention moved on to assessing Mac’s spine. With careful fingers and several muttered apologies, bitten out through an iron grip on his control, he felt his way down from the base of Mac’s skull, all the way to his tailbone. It wasn’t a wholly reliable technique and he definitely wouldn’t be moving Mac until the EMTs arrived, but he couldn’t deny the soft relief that flooded him when he felt nothing dramatically out of place.

“You don’t get to do this to me, Mac,” he said, wishing he sounded strong instead of small. “You go kaboom, I go kaboom, remember? You’re not allowed to take on any explosions without me.”

If it hadn’t been for the pervasive quiet that had fallen over the grounds, Jack might have missed the sound that followed. It was near silent, more of a wheeze than a voice, and yet he felt it spark something in his chest all the same. In the next instant, he was back beside Mac’s head.

“Hoss?”

With his face pressed awkwardly into the loamy earth, Mac could only open one of his eyes and it still managed to be one of the best things that Jack had ever seen. Far less promising, however, was the bubble of red at the corner of his lips. Dread dropped like a stone in Jack’s gut.

Mac made the sound again, his mouth moving just enough to reveal bloodied teeth and releasing a bead of blood that carved a path down over his cheek. Horrified as he was by the sight, it took Jack a staggeringly long amount of time to realise that Mac was trying to say his name.

“Mac, Jesus, don’t try to talk,” he scolded, reaching out to brush Mac’s hair of out his eyes before he remembered not to touch. “I’m right here, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

A soft whimper escaped Mac. In the dim light, Jack could just make out the glistening in his one visible eye and he felt the pain of it lance through his chest. Tears of his own welled up before he had any chance of stopping them.

“I know it hurts, hoss,” he said, like he had any fucking idea what Mac was feeling. “It’s going to be okay, I promise you.” Throwing caution to the wind in the face of such pain, he finally let his hand come to rest softly on the top of Mac’s head. He didn’t smooth his hair back like he wanted to – there was still just enough caution in him to put that idea to rest – but the physical connection seemed to help bring something in Mac’s brain back online.

He blinked slowly, releasing the tear that had gathered at the corner of his eye, and tried to look up at his partner. Either because he realised how much pain it would cause him to do it or because he genuinely couldn’t, he didn’t make any effort to turn his head. It was better that way, Jack knew, but the sight of it still sent a thrill of fear racing through him.

“Medics are on their way, alright Mac? Just got to hang tight for a few more minutes. We can do that, can’t we? It’s hardly nothing.” That was all well and good for him to say. He wasn’t the one lying there in so much pain he could scarcely breathe. “While we’re waiting, let me get a check on you, alright? Can you blink once for yes and two for no?”

There was a brief pause as Mac apparently mulled that question over, then a slow, performative blink.

Jack tried to smile encouragingly at him, but he knew Mac would be able to see right through him. He was far too panicked to even try hiding it. “That’s great kid. Okay.” With his free hand, he reached over to where Mac’s right arm was lying limply on the ground beside him and very gently squeezed the tip of his thumb. “Can you feel that?”

A single blink. Thank god.

“That’s great news,” he said, not caring that he was repeating himself. With a slight wince of apology, he moved to Mac’s other hand, the one attached to the broken arm, and repeated the same thing. “And now?”

Another blink, accompanied by a tightening of Mac’s features.

“That one hurts more?”

Blink.

“Alright, we expected that. I’m so sorry hoss. You know I have to check.”

Blink.

“Does that hand feel numb at all? Any tingling or pins and needles?”

Two blinks.

Jack grimaced. “This is going to suck, but can you try moving your fingers for me? Just a little?”

Again there was a pause, as Mac struggled to process that request through whatever haze of concussion and agony he was currently working with, then the fingers beside Jack’s hand twitched. It was little more than a spasm, really, but it was everything Jack needed right then. “Okay, hoss, that’s great, you did it. You can relax them again, okay? You did good.”

Mac just watched him in silence. What little Jack could see of his face was carved in deep lines of distress and the blood seeping from his lips hadn’t slowed even once he’d given up on talking. A punctured lung, Jack was willing to bet; that the kid was still breathing at all suggested it was only one of the two, thank fuck, but that was still one too many. There should never be a circumstance where his partner was lying on the ground, broken into a hundred pieces, when Jack hadn’t been there to catch him.

For what felt like the hundredth time, he shook away the thought like a dog shaking off water. Now was not the time for self-recrimination or raging at the universe; he could worry about all that when Mac was whisked off to the inevitable surgical suite.

“Alright, this next one is going to be a bitch,” he warned, steeling himself to do it. “Blink if you can feel this.”

He had to remove his hand from Mac’s head to reach his feet, but he knew that it had to be done. Uncharacteristically, Mac had been wearing combat boots for their infiltration – Jack hadn’t bothered to ask why, but it had probably done a lot to stop his ankles from shattering in the fall so he wasn’t about to protest it – which meant the closest he could actually get to the soles of his feet was halfway up his shin. It wasn’t optimal; once the EMTs got here, they’d have to cut the boots off and do a proper blood flow and sensation check. But, for the moment, sans any cutting tools and deeply unwilling to put Mac through the agony of taking his boots off in the traditional way, he’d settle for digging his nail softly into the meat of Mac’s calf.

This time the wince preceded the blink, sharp enough that his whole body twitched. Going off how Mac instantly froze afterwards, Jack was willing to bet that moving had set off a whole new cacophony of pain.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he blubbered helplessly, shuffling back up to Mac’s head on his knees. He’d never been good at seeing people he cared about in pain, and that went double when it was Mac or Riley. They were his family and he’d do anything to keep them safe; watching them hurt felt like knives beneath his skin. He’d almost say it was a fitting punishment for letting them get injured in the first place if they weren’t the ones suffering.

A couple of strained, rasping breaths later, Mac managed to get his eye back open from its pained squint and blinked twice. Rejecting the apology? Or saying it wasn’t necessary? Jack had no way of establishing which without asking and he wasn’t getting Mac to waste his strength on soothing Jack’s shredded nerves. Instead, he just continued a mumbled litany of assurances and empty promises that help was just around the corner.

With some level of nerve responsiveness established, there was nothing else he could do besides monitor Mac’s condition and report it to the incoming EMTs via Matty. He felt paralysed, unable to do anything to help his partner beyond just being there. That Mac seemed to take some small comfort from his presence did little to make him feel less like a failure.

None of this should have happened. Jack should have been there. If he had been- well, he didn’t know what he could have done, but he would have thought of something. Anything that would have meant Mac didn’t have to go through this.

As distressing as it was to watch Mac fighting to breathe through the agonising pain, watching his blinks get slower and more lethargic as he drifted towards unconsciousness was a hundred times worse. Jack tried to keep him awake as long as he could with one-sided conversation, but there was only so much he could do.

By the time the medevac team was racing across the lawn towards them, Mac’s eye had slipped closed and nothing Jack said could get him to open it again.

..

After the fall he’d had, the list of Mac’s broken bones was as unsurprising as it was horrifying. The only thing keeping Jack from really losing it was that the fool had somehow managed to protect both his spine and his skull, with both showing bruising but no permanent damage. Elsewhere was… less good.

A dislocated shoulder leading to a snapped humerus. Five broken ribs, two of which had shredded his left lung. A fractured hip. By the time the doctor started listing the injuries to Mac’s legs, it became easier to name the bones that hadn’t been broken.

The headline information was that Mac would live. Assuming his reconstructive surgery went well and his body didn’t decide to reject any of the metal pins currently being used to hold him together, he’d even live well; it would be a hell of a long time before he was up and walking, the doctors said, but they did have hope that he would, indeed, walk. In that regard at least the combat boots had made all the difference. Jack had spent a not inconsiderable amount of time since learning that fact wondering how he could convince Matty to make them required attire for all field agents.

It was that or beat himself up over letting Mac get hurt at all.

Although, then again, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have time for both. Mac’s surgery would take hours and even once he was out, the doctors had indicated they were planning on keeping him sedated for a good while yet. There was already going to be a lot of pain in his future; there was no need to wake him up now to feel the worst of it. The best thing he could do for himself was rest and heal without aggravating any of his numerous injuries.

All Jack had to do was wait. Riley was heading over to join him – no doubt with instructions from Matty to make sure that Jack looked after himself instead of falling to pieces at Mac’s bedside – but her flight wasn’t due in for another few hours yet. Even with the travel time, she’d likely arrive before Mac made it out of the operating theatre.

God. What a fucking mess.

..

Multiple surgeries and a frankly alarming amount of sedatives meant that Mac didn’t wake up for any meaningful length of time for another week and a half. He’d dozed in and out for several days, but his body had clearly taken control from him and decided that it needed rest to heal. Jack would have worried over it if the doctors hadn’t been so relieved at his constant progress. As much as Mac lying still in a hospital bed sent all kinds of alarm bells ringing in Jack’s head, he couldn’t deny that the rest seemed to be doing him some good.

Riley was a constant source of support. She’d brought her rig with her so she could still be involved in on-going Phoenix operations – which Jack realised belatedly was why Matty was so content to leave them in general peace – but even then she hardly left Jack’s side. As expected, she continually hassled him about sleeping and eating, bullying him into the crappy hospital shower every morning while she took up his regular spot beside Mac. After the trauma he’d been through, neither of them were willing to leave him to wake up alone even once.

Fortunately, they needn’t have worried. After so many brief stirs, staying awake just long enough to acknowledge where he was and that his team was with him, the first time Mac properly woke was a reasonably calm affair. He already recognised the hospital and he had some vague memories of how he got there, though he clearly wasn’t willing to examine them too closely at the moment. Jack, able to remember every second of the whole nightmare in perfect clarity, was all too happy to oblige.

There was the pain of course; even under a hefty dose of morphine, Mac had far too many broken bones to not be feeling something. When Jack had asked him directly about it, he’d brushed it off as minor but there was no hiding the tightness of his eyes or the downward curl of his mouth when he thought no one was looking. In the end, it was almost a relief when he fell back asleep and stayed there for another twelve hours.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t until the following morning when he actually started asking the questions Jack had expected as soon as he was coherent.

“So, what’s the damage?”

He’d waited to ask until Riley was out of the room – on a coffee run – and he pitched it like he wasn’t particularly invested in the answer. To anyone else, his disinterest might have appeared genuine. For Jack, the sharp worry in his eyes was impossible to miss. “You’ve done a real number on yourself, bud,” he admitted quietly. “There’s a lot more metal holding you together than there was a week ago.”

Mac winced a little, even having already known that. “How bad?”

Jack couldn’t hide the grimace that overcame him, then covered it by rubbing at his eyes until he could pull on a suitably relaxed expression. “In a word, bad. But, if you keep your PT appointments and don’t do anything stupid in the next couple of months, the doctors are confident you’ll regain full mobility.”

“Yeah?”

There was so much gentle hope cradled in that word, it seemed to illuminate the air around it. Jack breathed out shakily. “For real, hoss. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“No, I know, I just-” Mac let out a sigh of his own, his eyes momentarily drifting to the ceiling tiles as he gathered himself. “I remember- bits. It’s all pretty foggy but…” He bit his lip. After a strained silence, he finally admitted, “I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

Jack’s hand found Mac’s unbroken one without conscious consideration. A thousand self-recriminations sprung to life in his mind for not being able to do anything to keep that dark, sorrowful look out of his partner’s eyes, but he brushed them all aside in favour of fixing Mac with his sternest look. “Hey, now, none of that,” he scolded gently. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. All of the what ifs don’t matter when you’re sitting right here breathing and in one piece. Mostly,” he tacked awkwardly on the end when his gaze flitted down to Mac’s numerous casts.

He’d feared the slip might upset him, but he warmed with relief when his partner snorted quietly.

“I’m not gonna lie, this was a bad one,” he said when Mac refocused. “Real bad. You weren’t the only one thinking- Well. Maybe let’s just both agree to never do this again, alright? I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“Deal,” Mac agreed quickly, the smallest of smiles curving his lips.

“The main takeaway is that you’re going to be alright. It’s gonna suck, don’t get me wrong, and I swear to god if I catch you trying to saw off your own cast at any point I am dragging you into medical by your goddamn ear-” Mac snickered again, and the faux irritation Jack had put on dispersed into quiet, simple joy at the sound of it, “But we’re going to be okay. All you need to worry about right now is resting up and healing, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” His eyes were already drooping, fatigue swooping back over him now that the worst of his stress had passed. Shoulders that had been creeping up around his ears in suppressed panic sank back down to leave him slumped casually against his pillows. “Thanks Jack.”

“Don’t mention it.”

..

With both legs and one of his arms in plaster casts, the wheelchair was an unavoidable necessity, no matter how much Mac scowled at it and insisted he could hobble about with boots and crutches. Already wise to his tricks, none of the medical staff even pretended to humour the suggestion. Jack just muttered darkly at him and, when grouchiness failed, resorted to guilt-tripping Mac with comments about how worried he’d been for his safety.

In all honesty, he was surprised that that tactic worked as long as it did. For an entire week, Jack got to enjoy Mac’s sullen griping about needing to ask for help for the most mundane of tasks; the novelty of the whole experience did help to soften the worst of the transition, but Mac had never been an easy-going patient at the best of times and it wasn’t long before he was glaring into the middle distance every few minutes. Rather than getting himself worked up over his perceived failure over and over again, Jack chose instead to be bemused by his partner’s irritation.

…Which was a tactic that came to an abrupt end when he returned to Mac’s house following a quick trip to the store to find the certified genius sprawled on the hallway floor, his wheelchair all the way in the living room and an overturned end table beside him.

Bright, burning panic flooded Jack’s veins, only to be rapidly snuffed out when he caught Mac’s expression of cowed embarrassment. Instead of racing to his side and fussing over any potential new injuries, Jack sucked in a deep breath, held it while he crossed his arms, and levelled Mac with the most unimpressed expression he could muster.

“I suppose you have a brilliant explanation for this?”

Mac’s face betrayed some level of pain, but blushing as he was it was hard to determine how much was physical and how much was the awareness that he’d just pissed off his partner. “Yes?”

“Care to share what it is?”

“…No?”

Jack sighed, putting his head in his hands for a long moment to wish for strength he didn’t feel. “’Course not. Jesus. Okay, first things first, have you hurt anything?”

He was already ducking down to Mac’s side to check, but Mac’s one working arm was quick to bat him away. “No,” he said more seriously. “Winded myself, but it wasn’t a bad fall.”

“You’ve got about two unbroken bones in your entire body right now hoss, there’s no such thing as a ‘good’ fall.”

“A hundred and eighty-nine, actually,” Mac supplied waspishly, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Oh, you so do not want to get smart with me right now.”

Assured that Mac wasn’t about to either bleed out or break any more bones, Jack crossed the ten feet or so between them and the abandoned wheelchair. He rolled it to Mac’s side and wordlessly started to help hauling him up into it. Cowed by his partner’s frustration and his own embarrassment, Mac let it happen without further comment.

It was only once he was settled back that he forcefully caught Jack’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I just wanted to grab my headphones from my room and I didn’t want to deal with the chair.”

Just like that, Jack’s anger evaporated. “I know it sucks man, but you’ve gotta take things slow. If you need anything you know I’m happy to get it for you. Waiting an extra ten minutes to listen to some music is a better option than breaking something the docs can’t fix.”

Looking not unlike a child being scolded, Mac’s eyes dropped to his knees. “I know. It was stupid.”

Jack sighed heavily, wishing things could be easy just this once. “It was,” he agreed when he was sure he could speak levelly. “But no harm done, right? Most people say they learn from their mistakes and god knows you don’t make many of them. Maybe you’re just due a refresher course.”

“A refresher course in… waiting for my headphones?”

“I was gonna say ‘accepting help’, but whatever works for you man.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Caving to the impulse, Jack ruffled the kid’s hair fondly and laughed when he got smacked away. “You’re going to be alright bud. Just gonna take a little while. Now, where are these headphones of yours?”

#macgyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #fanfiction #my fanfic #whump of july 2021

[akaylawithalotofideas]

I posted 956 times in 2022

That's 849 more posts than 2021!

217 posts created (23%)

739 posts reblogged (77%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@spacebobareborn

@tecpolel

@generation-fucked-nostalgia

@chibidorah-not-nicky

@crystaldarkpinkie

I tagged 225 of my posts in 2022

#swordtember - 31 posts

#swordtember2022 - 31 posts

#inktober - 27 posts

#goretober 2022 - 22 posts

#goretober - 21 posts

#mermay - 20 posts

#please help - 19 posts

#mermay 2022 - 19 posts

#learning with pibby - 18 posts

#pibby - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 94 characters

#i will have to say the dark gods and goddesses because they has that sort of determined energy

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So I have heard about the whole WB Discovery things that are going on, and it seems like things aree getting hopeless for us and CN is going to die…but there is no way I'm standing by and let this Discovery crap take away my childhood and ours. Look, you all think that it's too late for Animation and we can nothing but sit here and let it die, well not me, I'm not giving up in this fight! I may not be animator material yet, but Animation has been in my life and it have powered up my imagination. This imagination had made me into a dreamer and a daydreamer…Animation had empowered me and it has inspired me to do many fanworks and AU (My fanfic GOL wouldn't be here if there was not animation). What these jerks are doing are empowering us to give up on imagination and our dreams. We cannot give up! Animation empowers our Imagination! And I refuse to give up, NOT WHEN ANIMATION IS MY DREAM!

11 notes - Posted August 23, 2022

#4

Sorry for the long wait, but it's finally here! Alfred has grown up and Awful Alvin is hatching up a plan

Veggietales (c) Big Idea

12 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

#3

Ok, I admit, I snapped and made a Pibby OC.

So, this is Melody, she is a music loving kid who aspires to inspire others with music. Then the Darkness gets in and rains on her parade, but that will not stop her from fighting back.

14 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

#2

Oh boy! Alfred is getting bigger, maybe big enough to break the LarryManor.

Veggietales (c) Big Idea

16 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So, everyone! We need to talk about Pibby! The Good Place and Brooklyn Nine-Nine should be in there. (We don't really know if The Glitch/Darkness can corrupt Live-Action shows but Ya never know!)

I imagine Michael, Eleanor, Possibly Janet, Gina, Ray, Jake and Cheddar would be the survivors

16 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false

[gameofsevens]

c!Dream's Limbo

DISCLAIMER: this was written back in July 2021, so some details in the beginning are no longer accurate, but the overall theme, especially the second half, still stands. Also, I'm only talking about characters here, it just flows better without the "c!"

Whether he dies from Quackity and Sam snapping, Sapnap fulfilling a promise, Tommy finally having enough, or natural or...less than natural causes, he died alone. Maybe not physically, but mentally--friendship wise? He had no one.

But in his limbo, he had everyone. And I mean everyone.

But they aren't nice, no: they berate him and yell at him for all he's done and if he didn't find the wrongs in his actions before, he knows them now. If he realized it from wasting away in the prison, it's a sick reminder. If he knew from the moment he declared war with L'Manburg that he may make bad decisions and knew what he did, none of it's a surprise, but it still hurts like hell.

Maybe DreamXD is there, maybe Dreamon if he existed. But they share his name, so they're a part of him (or he's a part of them), so they don't do anything but stare

This goes on for a time he can't make out; it could be years or days or seconds, he doesn't know. All he knows is that his mask (not the literal one, the metaphorical one) is gone.

And then one day it stops. There's no warning, nothing like how he died--just one moment his ears were bleeding and his head was ringing and so many people were yelling and pointing and hitting--and then nothing.

He's back in the prison.

Well, no, it's not the prison, because the prison had that shitty light in one corner, the murky water in another, and that curtain of lava that looked oh so inviting.

Wherever he is now is nothing like that. In fact, it's nothing at all.

He's in the void, crammed between binary code and plug-ins, suffocating under the blue and green text that's supposed to tell him the universe loves him.

The text that he knows exists (it has to, it HAS to!) doesn't tell him to wake up (as if he ever could. His name is DREAM after all)

But that’s just it, isn’t it? He’s Dream: his story, his ending was right in his name all along. Maybe he should’ve seen this coming (or maybe he did, but ignorance is bliss as they say, and by God was he blissful), yet it still ended the same:

Stuck floating in a fallen-apart Dream dream until the end of time (or maybe he’ll go past that if he hasn’t already) all of his sins, purposeful and knowing or not, choking him the whole way.

That’s not the worst part, though.

Dream knows that once he’s gone, once his dream disappears, everyone else’s will too.

But a game can’t wake up--he’s as much proof of that as any.

So the worst part isn’t a constant replay of his entire life in shambles, it’s knowing that everyone will be experiencing it too.

And maybe, just maybe--something tickles the back of his ravaged mind--that was his fault, too.

#c!dream #c!dream limbo #dreamsmp #dsmp #this was written a couple months after c!q started torturing him and before c!techno got stuck in there with him #this plays into my tweet of how c!dream can't actually die because there is no server without him--the host and admin #nines’ notebook #dreblr

[purplesurveys]

1549

Habits

Do you tend to speed when you drive? Not really. I’m a super chill driver these days; a far cry from when I wanted to speed all the time as a really dumb college student who felt badass with her own car lmfao. I usually let people overtake me now and rarely change lanes.

Do you smoke cigarettes? Haven’t done it since 2020. I can’t say I wouldn’t ever do it again – I still might, socially – but overall the smell bothers me and I never enjoyed the burning sensation down my throat anyway. I also would never buy my own pack.

Does your temper flare a lot? It definitely can, especially when I’m tense or when I’m under mountains of deadlines at work and no one happens to be cooperating.

Do you get emotional easily? Yeah. I just cried over an ad earlier.

Do you get obnoxious when you're drunk? LOL sometimes. My co-workers have since branded me the nickname Bad Robyn who is essentially the person I transform to when I’ve downed a couple of drinks so yep, pretty obnoxious.

Which shoe goes on first? I never think about it, to be honest. Though now that you mention it I do think I have a tendency to put on the left first because my left foot is ever so slightly smaller than my right, so it’s easier to slip on.

Are you lazy? I’m not. I feel like my laziness these days is simply the effect of being burned out, but outside of that I don’t really like staying still and always feel like doing something to maximize my time.

Name one thing you do that people always tell you about. Within my family, I have the tendency to mistakenly refer to Cooper as Kimi. Old habits die hard.

Are you superstitious? Not at all. Drives my Filipino family nuts lol since I always do stuff I’m apparently not supposed to.

Do you get bored with relationships quickly? Nope.

Can you sleep without blankets covering you? Only if it’s hot. Overall I find blankets comfy so it’s ideal for me to have them on when I turn in.

What position do you sleep in? On either side, clutching a pillow.

What do you do when you're angry? I mutter and groan to myself a lot. I also tend to snap, which I’m not proud of.

What do you do when you're sad? I turn off the lights in my room, open the windows, and pick a soothing song to play in the silence (usually from RM’s mono, because that mixtape is just an amazing therapy session on its own). Then I close my eyes and let myself bask in the sadness for a bit until I get a little calmer.

Who do you call when you have a bad day? I don’t like calling people. When I have a shit day I just kinda deal with it on my own.

YOUR ABC'S

A - is for the last person that made you ANGRY. My clients from my least favorite account.

B - is for BEER you prefer. Eugh, none. Never liked beer.

C - is for do you have a CAT? I do not.

D - is for can you DANCE? Nah.

E - is for do you have your EARS pierced? Sure, my earlobes are.

F - is for your best FRIEND. Angela!

G - is for did you ever watch GUTS on Nickelodeon? I’m surprised I’ve never heard of that show before given that I was always a bigger Nickelodeon kid than Disney. They never had reruns of whatever that show is, so I’m not familiar.

H - is for the last person who HUGGED you? I think that was my mom.

I - is for close your eyes.. what IMAGE do you see? Blackness and the glare for my laptop.

J - is for have you ever been to JAIL? Continued an entire work week later, lol. No I have not. I’ve visited prisons before, but I’ve never been sent to jail myself.

K - is for when is the last time you flew a KITE? In Grade 5 when we did kite-making during one of our science classes.

L - is for the LOVE of your life. Don’t have one of those.

M - is for the last piece of MAIL you got. The last package I received, not mail, was my Proof Standard. Should be expecting my Memories 2021 DVD and Jungkook photo folio soon, too.

N - is for do you remember NERF guns? I mean yeah, they never went away anyway. I also never run out of younger cousins who are into Nerf guns lol.

O - is for do you OWN a car? We have a car that’s designated specifically for me; but no, I don’t think it’s fair to say I own it. I didn’t pay for it and I don’t get tasked to maintain it.

P - is for your favorite PASTTIME. I love watching web series, going to museums and coffee shops, going window shopping, scrolling through Reddit, and doing these surveys.

Q - is for do you like peace & QUIET? It can be lovely during the occasional instance that I need absolute silence, but as they say the quiet can also be deafening. I guess it depends what my mind’s condition is on a given day.

R - is for do you like the color RED? Maybe not red itself but darker shades of it, like maroon and burgundy.

S - is for how many hours of SLEEP you need to function? Oh dear. These days I need probably around 6-7. I averaged 3-4 this entire week in particular and feel as though I’ve been totally wiped out by a truck.

T - is for what TIME is it? 11:43 PM.

U - is for what is UNDER your bed? Old magazines I collected from my teenage years. There’s loads more knickknacks but I don’t feel like pulling them out close to midnight lmao.

V - is for what you did last VALENTINE'S day. I don’t remember, actually. I checked just now and this year’s was Monday though, so I was 100% at work and did nothing else.

W - is for do you drink a lot of WATER? I don’t get to drink water throughout the day because of work, but I usually am able to make up for it in the evening since I can go through several full glasses within hours.

X - is for have you ever had an X-RAY? Yeah, a few. Mostly for my back because scoliosis, but recently I also had one for my teeth since they needed to see my wisdom tooth.

Y - is for the last person you YELLED at. I haven’t yelled at one particular person recently but I do remember tipsy me yelling quite a bit during our company party last Friday...a co-worker hosted a trivia game and sober!me is typically already pretty competitive, so that was just amplified like 10 times more after two margaritas and a beer.

Z - is for have you ever watched ZORRO? No. The only connection I have with it is that it used to be Kimi’s name, until we took him home from my grandma’s.

RANDOM

Who do you wish you could hang out with right now? Oh my god, nobody. I just want to be alone this entire weekend – worked my fucking ass off nonstop and have barely slept more than 4 hours every night this week, all while having to socialize and mingle during the day. This weekend I’m going on full shutdown/hibernation mode.

Name one thing you absolutely can not stand. Pineapples.

Where do you spend most of your time? On my work space.

If you could fly, where would you go first? Busan!

What was the best vacation you've ever been on? The cruise I took in 2016. Vigan was also great primarily because I spent like a third of my time in museums and ancestral houses.

Have you ever hit a squirrel when you were driving? I have never seen a squirrel (we don’t have any here) but I have also just never run over an animal in general. I did once have a critically close brush with a cat that suddenly darted into the street, but I was able to floor the brakes on time. Fortunately there wasn’t anyone behind me because with the way I halted, I most definitely would’ve gotten rear-ended otherwise.

Did your car ever break down? Only from a dead battery. I also luckily happened to be at a gas station when my car suddenly wouldn’t start, so I was able to get help quick.

What's your favorite thing to do on the weekend? Watch a bunch of BTS stuff as my own form of therapy.

What radio station do you listen to most often? I just use Bluetooth to connect Spotify to my car’s stereo. That’s what I’ve been doing since, like, high school.

Pick one: Papa John's, Dominoes, or Pizza Hut. Pizza Hut. Papa John’s is too salty for me, and I just haven’t had enough encounters with Dominoes to have some sort of attachment to it.

What is the longest amount of time you've been awake? A little over 24, but definitely less than 30.

What would you do if you found out the world was ending in one week? Honestly? My first instinct, 200%, would be to check out the internet and seek updates from publications lol. I feel like that’s the sort of thing that would develop every 5 minutes and I’d want to stay on top of what’s happening and why the sudden major change. Then I feel like I might want to stay on Twitter because I guarantee you people are going to memeify the shit out of the situation, and I’ll be needing that sort of comic relief to deal with the nerves.

Do scary movies make you paranoid when you watch them alone? Yeah, that’s why I never do that. Always need to be with someone when I watch horror movies.

Name one thing you've lied about recently. I was at a whole-day shoot last Wednesday and the production team provided meals for everyone, and I lied when I was asked if I already ate. Not exactly an appropriate situation to inform them my work makes me skip breakfast and lunch, haha.

What is the worst movie you've ever seen? Any overly romantic movie can count as the worst for me, so stuff like Flipped and Me Before You I found super bleck.

Who was the first person to ever give you flowers? My ex.

#survey #surveys

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Capturing a comet's tail to keep Earth safe from the sun

A comet is set to pass by Earth this spring, and it may be missing its tail.

The comet poses no danger to Earth—it is about the same distance from our planet as we are from the sun—but scientists need images of C/2021 S3 Pannstars from amateur astronomers to improve forecasts of space weather. These forecasts are vital to prevent problems caused by solar winds, which are streams of particles containing solar storms that can damage technology in space and on Earth.

Sarah Watson, the University of Reading Ph.D. researcher leading the project, said, "What we are expecting to see may look rather unusual. When we talk about comets, people often think of a large, bright sphere followed by a long thin tail."

"The comet we are observing may look different as its tail could 'detach' as it is buffeted by solar winds."

"We need lots of timed photos of the comet to build up a picture of its journey through our solar system. This is a fantastic opportunity for amateur astronomers to get out their telescopes, capture a truly spectacular cosmic moment, and make a big contribution to some important science."

Spot the comet

The comet has been visible in the UK night sky since Wednesday, 14 February, but will be easier for astronomers to spot in the coming weeks as it appears further away from the sun and stays above the horizon in the night sky for longer. The comet will not be visible to the naked eye, so stargazers will need a small telescope to which they can attach a camera or a camera with a big lens to capture the comet. It is expected to be in view until the end of March.

A full guide on how to photograph a comet can be found on the BBC Sky at Night Magazine website.

Photographers should look out for a fuzzy object to identify the head of the comet and a bright dash behind it to identify the tail. Researchers are eager to receive snaps of the comet's broken tail in particular, and should photographers manage to capture the comet; scientists will also need information on the image location and time.

Data and images should be sent to [email protected], and the best photographs will be sent to the British Astronomical Association to be archived.

Space windsocks

Comets are sometimes referred to as cosmic 'windsocks' as they can indicate the direction and strength of the solar wind in space, similar to how a windsock shows the direction and strength of the wind. Images of the comet will enable the research team to record data about solar wind conditions local to the comet. If the tail detaches from the comet or appears to wobble, the team can determine there was an increase in solar wind activity nearby.

Solar wind contains streams of charged particles from the sun, some of which are energetic enough to damage satellites in space and harm astronauts and high-altitude aircrew. When solar wind hits the Earth's magnetosphere, communications technology can be sent haywire. By improving our understanding of solar wind, scientists can also improve space weather forecasts.

A University of Reading-led survey from 2023 found that nine in ten space weather experts agree that without accurate forecasting of space weather, Earth could suffer serious damage to its infrastructure.

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #astrophysics

[web-spinning]

MOCCHA TIMELINE!

This is just for fun. A small summary of my life. I think it helps me understand what went wrong-

Tw. Death mentions, self harm mentions, suicide attempt.

200?- I am born, cool

200?-2011- Me, mum and dad and step-sister in a small village, yay c:

2011- Dad is hit by truck

2013- Moving to the city to live next to my grandparents. Kindergarten kids are kinda rude and don't want to play with me, but it's okay

2014- School! Kids still don't like me much, but it's okay. I don't have a hard time writing anymore, and I can read!

2016- Diabetes diagnosis, I almost died because of hyperglicemia

2017- The internet! FNaF!

2018- My hyperfixation is most important, everything is okay

2019- Hyperfixations worns out slowly. Grandpa dies, sister moves away. Kids don't like me much. I began to feel anxiety and I cry a lot. I realize I am not cishet. I am a lesbian, then a non-binary ace lesbian named Aiden, then I realize I am transgender and bi, my new name is Gabriel. I self harm, and tell my most trusted teacher. She sends me to a therapist, and I find out I might be autistic.

2020- Actually, I am transgender and gay, and my name is Michael. The pandemic is okay, because I can stay inside and play my horse game instead of studying. But I can't contact with my classmates anymore. Making a one-shot book on wattpad. In October, I attempt to choke myself several times.

2021- Our class gets reorganized, I end up in a new class. The kids there are mean and I don't know how to talk to them. They end up bullying me. But it's okay, because the literature teacher appreciates me, I am her most active student. I am also the best at history, with the teacher being our headmaster. I develop OCD. Dad dies. Somewhere in June I get to a hospital with an infecion, leave after two weeks. I get my first parrot, he dies after two weeks. I get another parrot.

2022- School is hell. The girls are mean, so I snap at one of them and end up in the counselor's for attacking her. I don't get punished because the headmaster knows my mother. I start this blog, and people like my writing. But in two months, school ends. I try to get to the art high school, but don't get accepted. I choose a different high school. Grandma dies. I buy another parrot. Then I buy a mantis. Summer is okay. The new school turns out to be great, all the people are friendly. I still struggle with people my age, but I get along well with a guy two years older than me. I get tarantulas after wanting them since 2020. I find a new special interest.

2023- I find out I am a pogan. I get a boyfriend....To be continued.

[rfspeedsite]

What happens if you take screenshot uworld app

If you’ve read this article and have decided that you’d like to recall something you sent to another user on Snapchat, it is possible. Therefore your account could get deactivated for violating the community guidelines. If the person whose content you’ve captured finds out, they could report you to Snapchat. There are other legal ramifications (we aren’t lawyers, so don’t dive too deep into the subject) of screenshotting someone’s content on Snapchat, but it’s also worth mentioning that you could find yourself banned from using the app. The second is extortion taking an image of someone without their consent and telling them you’ll share it if they don’t comply with your demands has recently been in the news. Assuming it’s an explicit picture of a minor, just possessing such an image can get you in lifelong trouble. The first legal issue you could run into is what the screenshot includes. Aside from the possible civil repercussions (someone may have a viable lawsuit against you depending on copyright infringement), there are some severe legal consequences you could face. Now, what you do with the screenshot is another matter. Anyone who uses the app is knowingly putting something on the internet for you to see. The simple act of taking a screenshot is not illegal. The legality of such an action depends on quite a few factors. While we’ve mentioned that it is morally frowned upon to screenshot someone’s Snapchat uploads, it is not necessarily illegal to do so. Snapchat Secret Screenshotting FAQs Is it illegal to screenshot someone’s Snapchat content?

Once you’ve cleared the Cache, you can close Snapchat and turn “Airplane Mode” off.ĭisclaimer: If you didn’t already know it, this is morally dubious, and it may only work on Android 9 or earlier, even if it is just a hysterically unflattering selfie of your recently initiated grandparents.

Tap “Clear Cache” under “Account Actions,” then select “Clear All.”.

Tap on the “Settings” cog in the upper right-hand corner.

Back out of the Snap and go to your “profile” icon in the upper right-hand corner.

Go to the Snap you’d like to capture and take your screenshot.

Let Snapchat run in the background while you head over to your phone’s settings and activate “Airplane Mode.”.

Open Snapchat and head to the snap, but don’t open it up just yet.

To take a screenshot without notifying anyone when using Android 9 or earlier and n earlier version of Snapchat, do this: Just be mindful try it out on a close friend first. Of course, if you’re running an older version of Snapchat on an older phone, you may be able to get away with it.

Close Snapchat, turn Airplane Mode on, then re-open the app and screenshot.Īs you can see, no matter what we did, the screenshot notification appeared.

Open the Snap, then turn Airplane Mode on.

Turn Airplane Mode on, keep Wifi on, open the Snap, and screenshot.

Turn Airplane Mode on, turn Wifi off, open the Snap, and screenshot.

If this is the method you’d like to use, it’s best to test it out with a friend first. But, the feedback we have received from our readers stated that they have. Note: Based on our tests in May of 2021, the other user did not receive a screenshot notification. Although Android users had to wait for the screen recording feature, it’s now available for Android 10 phones and newer. The screen record feature gets used to capture your interaction on the social media app. The secret to screenshotting on Snapchat lies within the trusty native iOS toolkit.

How to Take Secret Screenshots on Snapchat It doesn’t include soliciting a friend’s smartphone to document whatever interaction you’re having on Snapchat. Snapchat closed off many of these avenues, including third-party apps that promised the hide screenshot activity. People had tried everything, from putting their phones on airplane mode and force quitting the app before Snapchat registered the screenshot to the altogether more manual technique of using someone else’s phone to capture what’s appearing on your screen. Screenshot cheat sheets had circulated the internet since 2011, when the app launched.

#What happens if you take screenshot uworld app

[thatonecoryosimp]

My Best Friend's Dad. C!Schlatt X Reader. Smut

Part 2 HERE

Hey y'all, I'm trying to come up with a schedule for the Devil's Mercenary. I hope you guys enjoy this tho. I didn't proofread this, but y'know. Remember, requests are open, drink water, and stay safe.

Warnings: No pronouns used but afab reader. Age gap. Smut (duh). The word daddy is used like once, and like one line of degradation.

Date: September 26th, 2021

Tommy is my younger brother, I was about four when Dadza brought him home. So as we got older, we got into a lot of trouble together. Since the age gap between Tommy and I was so small, it meant we got on better than I did with my other brothers.

Whenever Tommy first began hanging out with Tubbo, I felt betrayed, like I had lost my brother, my only real friend. But then he started bringing Tubbo around the house, I think he was five at this point, and originally, I tried to stay spiteful. Make sure Tubbo knew I didn't like him.

But that changed when Tubbo handed me his most prized be plushie. I was sitting in a corner away from everyone, watching as Tubbo and Tommy played. He practically shoved the thing in my arms and told me it would make me feel better.

That's the day my opinions on Tubbo shifted, and I began hanging out with my brother and his friend. Tubbo soon became my own best friend. We did everything together. One day, a couple years later. He decided it was time to have a sleepover at his house.

I begged and pleaded with Dadza until he finally gave in. I was ecstatic as I raced to Tubbo's house with the boy right by my side. Dadza was lagging behind with an exasperated look on his face, but at that moment I didn't care. Tommy didn't get to come that day, he was grounded. Which made this better for me.

I knocked on the door and a pretty young man answered the door. He looked like he was in his twenties, perhaps twenty or twenty-one. Dadza didn't seem to notice this, as he just to him to make sure I don't die.

He introduced himself as Schlatt, Tubbo's father. I pointed out the fact that he was pretty young to be a father but he just laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

This went on for a couple years, up until I was twelve. Then Schlatt just randomly vanished like the Avatar. I remember the day clearly, Tubbo sprinted up to the house with tears in his eyes. His hair fanned over his face as he erratically knocked on the door. It was heartbreaking to see him like this, but it also pushed Tubbo and me closer, and I swore to myself I would never leave him, or Tommy.

I wasn't exactly fond of the idea of L'manburg, I was seventeen at the time, and didn't want to be a part of something that could take me away from having a normal life. So when Wilbur and Tommy came up to me with the proposition, I said no. Telling them I wanted no part in the creation of this glorious nation. But when they told me Tubbo was involved, I couldn't say no. I had to be there for him, and I could look after Tommy at the same time.

So with a sigh, I agreed.

We were getting ready for the election, Wilbur's face gleamed with hope as he looked out. My gut was turning and wrenching, I hadn't been here the past couple of days, I had gone out with Tommy and Tubbo to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Apparently, Wilbur had forgotten about it because when I got back I was yelled at and berated.

That's how I had ended up in the medical house, watching in horror as my brothers got chased out of their own nation, not being able to do anything but sit there. I don't know how long I sat there in that prison before the door opened. I was expecting it to be Tubbo, he was the only other person that knew where I was. But instead of my best friend, it was his dad.

My eyes widened as I looked at the man that had supposedly disappeared. I remember him helping me up and bringing me to the room he was staying in.

I remember him ogling me as I sat there.

And I remember the first words he had said to be in 6 years. "Look how much you've grown, and in all the right places."

I also remember the promise I made myself that night, to stay far away from Tubbo's father.

Which is why it still confuses me how I got here.

A moan tore from my throat as my back arched up.

"Fuck! I cried out as my hands tugged at the dark head of hair. His horns constantly poking my thighs. His hands were wrapped around my waist making sure to keep me securely on his desk. There was a huge mess on the floor, one I knew Tubbo would have to pick up later.

His tongue was working magic as he fucked me with it. His eyes met mine as he licked another long swipe up my folds. He pressed one last kiss to my clit before standing up completely. He pulled his tie from his suit as he stared at me with burning desire.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to my lips. His fingers beginning to tease at my entrance. I whined against him causing a chuckle to sound from the man on top of me. He pulled back with a smirk on his face. He pulled his cock from his pants and my breath stopped in anticipation. I looked up at him with glazed eyes.

I'm sure I looked like a mess, but I didn't care at that moment.

"You look so pretty like this," he mumbled as he brushed my hair back.

"Please..." I whispered, my eyes closed in shame. But that feeling was washed away whenever he pushed himself in me. I groaned as my head fell back, "gods."

His hips started moving tantalizingly slow, before beginning a rough pace. Moans fell from my lips as I felt him sink in me and pull out again and again.

"Fuck fuck fuck," I moaned as my arms reached up and around his neck. "Harder, please daddy harder."

I heard him groan slightly, "Stupid slut," he grumbled as his hands fell to my shirt. He pulled the fabric up revealing my boobs. His mouth latched onto a nipple as he began going faster.

My eyes were rolled back and my head was leaned back. The only thing to slightly snap me back into reality was his voice, "Cum."

Isn't it sad that's all I needed? My back arched further this time as my arms tightened around him. I heard a soft pop sound as he pulled his mouth away and pressed his lips to mine. His hips sputtered slightly before stilling. I felt the white, hot liquid spill into me as I moaned.

My breathing slowly regulated as I laid there for a second before my eyes snapped open.

Did I take my pill this morning?

~~~

You guys are crazy, I'm about to hit eighty followers. What the heck guys?

#schlatt #schlatt x reader #x reader #x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader smut #smut #mcyt smut #dsmp smut #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader