#but this is a 'holy war' and 'both sides are bad'

[treesbian]

i am exhausted. just got yelled at for so so long to stop looking at and sharing what's happening in palestine. listen i know my self care is bad but that has nothing to do with me caring about palestine it'd be equally as bad if not worse if i didn't know the shit

#talk tag #my mom kept yelling at me telling me to stop posting 'hamas' shit #and she made it very clear she doesn't know the difference between hamas and palestine #she was talking about a hypothetical 'refugee from hamas' and how ofc she'd help them #but this is a 'holy war' and 'both sides are bad' #it isn't!! #i asked her how old she thought isreal was and she said it's at least 2000 #it is not. isreal didnt exist until 1948. #and then she talked about how in the bible isreal is the promised land to the jewish ppl #but im not sure thats right. #and she said the usa was backing isreal bc of The Bible #but thats not why.... #it's so the usa can have someone in the middle east. #whatever. i should stop using facebook altogether tbh. except the messenger #but goddamn my mother is so so disinformed and acting like she knows better than i do. it is frustrating. #she's not willing to do her own research and she isn't willing to be educated either

[uhohdad]

Meine Perle

Octo!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is tasked with feeding enemy prisoner Octo!Konig

“Just don’t step over the tape, don’t talk to it, and try not to spend too much time in there. Oh, and don’t forget the bucket.” AO3

Inspired by this fanart by @numelu that I have not been able to stop thinking about since I laid my sinful little eyes on it.

Word Count: 25.7k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, porn with plot, tentacles, restraints, bondage, orgasm torture, tentacle fucking, light anal, light spanking, dw he uses all of his tentacles, corked like you got the suds, dom!konig, hood stays on, choking, injury, holy trinity of fluff angst and smut, no use of y/n, story and smut kinda read like two different stories, that’s my bad, i’ve never seen the shape of water but i’m assuming this is the exact plot, reader gender is obscured but afab during the sex bits for sure, women in stem

Biowarefare has made incredible strides in the last few decades, unbeknownst to the public. Experimental creatures of nightmarish horrors engineered to inflict both psychological and physical damage to enemies live in the darker shadows of war. You’d been sworn to secrecy, but remain haunted by these creatures. You’d rather not get close to them - you were just a biologist. A consultant really, meant to answer questions about organic matter and DNA. You were to assist in the designing process, but this was not a part of the job description.

“It still needs to eat in the meantime,” Your supervisor had delivered around a cheeky smile, as if he was telling a joke. Your face, however, had not shown amusement.

“Just don’t step over the tape, don’t talk to it, and try not to spend too much time in there. Oh, and don’t forget the bucket.”

With only two hours to prepare yourself before dinnertime, you weren’t able to accomplish much work. Nerves escape through bouncing legs and fidgeting fingers.

The fridge smelled putrid. A cesspool of meats and seafood, all untreated and unprocessed, some on the brink of expiration, others completely rotten. You try not to breathe as you remove the top of a crate of fish, your fingers surviving any splinters and unpleasant scents with the protection of thick rubber gloves. The mackerel are large, four to five pounds, you’d guess, just shorter than the length of your arm. You grab two, placing them in the large yellow bucket your supervisor reminded you about. Seawater and fish guts drip from your rubber gloves as you step through the empty sterile hallways.

The involuntary shake of your hands causes the handle of the bucket to rattle against the plastic as you step up to the creature’s holding cell. In front of the large metal door you take a moment to steady yourself with a few deep breaths, but the stench of dead mackerel does little to ease your nerves.

You reach to the lanyard around your neck that secured your badge, trembling fingers hesitant to place it against the reader. The usually stagnant red light flicks green, and a grating alarm sounds followed by the sturdy clunk of the lock. You’re forced to use both hands, setting the bucket down before you grip the heavy metal door. You’re lean your entire weight against it, teeth grit as your heels dig into the tile. Your foot holds the door in place as you reach for the bucket. Once in the containment unit, the big metal door slams closed behind you with a mechanical clunk. The alarm buzzes again, making you flinch, shifting hesitantly in your spot by the door as you take in the sight before you.

It’s huge, bigger than any man you’ve ever seen. It looked like a man. Seven feet tall, you think. Muscles engineered for the purpose of destroying, the purpose of killing. Its arms are bent at the elbows and positioned behind its head, restrained by ropes. The restraints looped thoroughly around massive biceps and forearms, secured to the walls on either of his sides. Another rope had suspended from a mount on the ceiling, securing his wrists in place.

Glowing eyes stare menacingly at you from under a hood that cover its face. The black hood spilled from under a tactical helmet and down his chest, hem brushing up against exposed collarbones.

Slick black tentacles protrude from underneath the hood that hangs over its face, each slithering and curling in their own direction.

Eight larger tentacles resembled that of an octopus. As thick as tree trunks at the bases and gradually thinning towards the ends, four on each side of his spine and spread from its back like wings. Each one moves independently, spread and primed as they writhe in the air.

Mesmerized by the creature before you, you find yourself frozen under its gaze. Taking in such a miraculous sight. Sure, you assist in the design, but you’ve never seen one in person before. Pondering its capabilities, knowing full well without the restraints in place you wouldn’t stand a chance against such a well engineered design. Wondering what horror the hood hides, something so awful it had to be covered. Or perhaps the creature was designed that way, the hood itself intended to further off put its victims.

When you finally break eye contact with it, your eyes find the floor. A red line of tape separates you from the creature, signifying its reach within the cell. Its got a large radius, you’re surprised by how much distance he’s capable of covering even while restrained in place.

You swallow hesitantly, taking a couple steps closer, still leaving a healthy distance between you and the glossy red tape.

“Fresh meat?” It asks, in a harsh and gravely voice that sends a chill up your spine. You weren’t sure if he had been referring to you or the fish.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” Your voice is broken and hesitant as you eye the tentacles writhing and twisting alluringly in the air.

You carefully get down on one knee and set the bucket on the ground, your hands shaking. With a calculated push you slide the bucket across the concrete floor and into the creature’s reach. The bucket slides over the boundary a few feet before it skids and tips over, rolling in a semi circle on its side as the fish spill out of the rim one after another.

The creature laughs, a loud and wicked laugh that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Your expression is seeped in worry as you stand, watching it eye the mess before it, cruel laugh still echoing in your ears.

“The new ones always forget the bucket.” It says, low and sinful with eyes half-lidded in menace. It coils a larger tentacle around the middle of the container and whips it back in your direction without warning.

You let out a yelp and dive to the floor, just barely missing the bucket that crashed into the cell door behind you. It bounces back, pieces of the plastic rim snapping off and scattering to the ground.

You scramble for the container, your other hand desperately clawing for your badge before slamming it against the receiver and exiting the cell in a panicked scramble.

The creature’s depraved laugh could be heard up until the door slammed shut behind you, the lock securing into place with the grating alarm. Your breaths are shallow, fishy rubber gloves pressed to your beating heart as you quickly distance yourself from the cell.

———————————————————

You had tried to convince your supervisor to give the task to someone else, anyone else, but to no avail.

“It’s your fault for forgetting the bucket!”

You mocked your supervisor’s inflection once out of earshot before burying your face into your palms with a groan.

You thought about putting in your two weeks. No! No two weeks. You’ll just leave and never look back.

You remember that the government doesn’t look very kindly upon disgruntled ex-employees holding classified information, and opt to run a hand through your hair with a huff instead.

You’ll be quick today, in and out, and then it’s done. Once a day for thirty seconds, until they find a replacement. That’s not so bad.

The second time was easier. You knew what to expect, and the spite against your supervisor, against the creature, only fueled your confidence. Features stone cold as you open the door, the grating alarm having stirred the creature. You step into the room assuredly, returning the creature’s harsh stare with one of your own.

You close more of the gap between you and the tape this time, holding the handle of the bucket with one hand and securing the bottom with your other. You wind it up behind you before using your arms to propel it forward with a huff, grip still steady on the bucket as the fish fly. The creature’s eyes follow the trajectory of the fish until they land at its feet. You had wasted no time turning on your heels and leaving, bucket still in hand.

“Someone learned their lesson.” You hear, and you grit your teeth as you let the door slam harshly behind you.

The creature left a lasting impression in your memory. Its taunts echo in your mind, and you can tell he was designed to get under the victim’s skin. To haunt them, inflicting emotional warfare in addition to physical, torturing them without even being in the same room as them.

You dreamt of it last night. You wondered if that was something that it had done to you. If he had the ability to inflict nightmares, or if he was just intimidating enough to let your subconscious run wild after only a few seconds of exposure.

In the dream, you had been caught in a sea of black tentacles, suffocating you as they wrapped around your mouth, robbing you of air while restraining your limbs from fighting back. The tentacles had wriggled until they transformed into the shape of the creature’s hood, glowing eyes staring tauntingly, but your dream had equipped him with a horrific mouth that laid over its hood, filled with sharp carnivorous teeth spread into a sickening smile. With his wicked laugh, blood spilled from the gaps of his endless rows of teeth.

You had woke up covered in sweat, gasping for air as you kicked free from the hold of your blankets.

The dream had stuck with you, the residual unease not allowing you to fall back asleep. You decided to start research on the creature although you weren’t instructed to - your way of controlling the fear of the unknown by making it known.

Detailed sketches and logs of your encounters with him quickly buried your work assignments. You were recording every detail from the number of visual abdominal muscles to his bluff behavior when encountering a threat, branching its tentacles out just like animals to in the wild do to appear bigger.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on it during feedings. To gather data, you told yourself, to understand the creature’s physiology. You’re a biologist, after all. Research is the foundation of your beliefs.

You had been able to refrain from speaking with it, even if he was rather chatty. Arrogant, he loved to push your buttons.

You didn’t let him get to you, at least as far as he was concerned. You never let your irritation show when under his watchful gaze, but grit your teeth once you turned your back.

It’s about a week and a half into your new duty when he finally makes you falter.

“You’re starving me, you know.”

Your stride stills, not yet turning towards him as your hand grips your badge. You consider his words, shed of his usually cocky tone.

He could be lying, who knows what his true intentions actually are. On the other hand, you’ve only been feeding him what you’ve been tasked to.

You slowly turn towards him, your eyes squinted as you stare at him. You’re trying to deduce his weight, but it’s hard since you’re not used to estimating in terms of seven foot creatures with tentacles. He looks like he’s made of pure muscle, and those tentacles look heavy. 300 pounds? 400? You’re trying to decide if you should be feeding him in terms of his body weight percentage in regards to a human, an octopus, or a monster.

You should have kept walking, you think. He has your attention now, and not only that, you’ve revealed from hesitation alone that you possess a moral standard to uphold a basic level of decency for a prisoner of war. Now he knows you’re soft.

He can tell you’re trying to figure out if he’s deceiving you.

“If I had food to spare, I’d have used it as a weapon by now.” His low voice drips off arrogance again, and a tentacle reaches down to grab a mackerel, curling as he brings it to the appendages pouring from beneath his hood. You watch carefully as the fish disappears, and wonder if your dream was accurate about the mouth he hides under his hood.

You take a deep breath and turn from him, gripping your badge tighter and exiting the cell as you latch the door shut with a loud clunk.

The next time you’re in that awful fridge that reeks of postmortem and cheap seafood, you add two extra mackerel into the yellow bucket with the jagged broken edges.

When he counts the fish that land at his feet during your next feeding, his tone is still gruff, but softer, “Thank you.”

He leaves it without a witty remark. He caught you off guard again, shown by the slowing in your steps. You didn’t turn back to him this time, but you wanted to believe that he was genuinely appreciative of your kindness. Even if it was just enough not to make an attempt to get under your skin this time.

Your dreams have only become more vivid. You can hear the clunk of the lock on the heavy metal door, the alarm that blares identical to reality. You’ll be having a typical day at work, fully immersed in dry research and black tentacles will emerge from every entrance, every crevice. Holding you still and swallowing you up.

It’s getting difficult to differentiate the events in the dreams to those in real life. It takes hours to reorient yourself enough to fall back asleep.

Circles develop around your eyes from the lack of rest. Your productivity had come to a halt, your thoughts and research now surrounding the creature you feed.

He refrains from making comments at you, now that you’re feeding him enough. The next few visits he doesn’t say anything, the two of you sharing the silence. You’re not sure, but you think you have come to an understanding. You feed him a little extra, and in return he doesn’t say anything about the long stares. Not even a snide remark as you leave.

“What are you?” You finally ask during a feeding, curiously eyeing the tentacles delivering a fish to his obscured mouth.

He takes a moment to consider it, or maybe he takes a moment to swallow the mackerel.

“I am what I am, same as you.”

You look down, a little ashamed at your question. Maybe you have been too judgmental. He’s displayed his intelligence from the start, he’s obviously much more than just an it or a creature.

He was just a being who never asked to be created, same as you. His potential locked away in enemy care, his conscious trapped between these four walls, restricted from moving.

“I’m sorry.” You say, standing tall with your brows pinched and eyes looking up to meet his intimidating gaze.

“For what?” He asks after considering it for a moment, voice holding a slight edge.

“That you’re here.”

You pause before continuing, “That you were made for what you were made for. That you never got a chance to just be.”

His eyes watch you carefully, narrowing underneath his hood. A tentacle curls in your direction while your eyes are trained carefully on him, and you can’t help the shake of your hands as you get a closer look at his slick tentacle.

“I’m sorry you’re here too.” He says, and you’re not sure how to take it. You nod your head anyway, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“Me too.” Your voice is strained with remorse, as if you’re personally responsible for holding him hostage. “I’m not like them.” You say, desperate for him to believe you, “I’m just a biologist, I’m meant to answer questions about DNA and nature. I didn’t- it just got out of hand.”

He studies you carefully, his muscles tensing underneath his restraints. “But you help them.” He says, dangerously and definitive.

“No! I- well, yes.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you did, “This is just a job.”

You look back to him. Could you even say it’s just a job anymore? When you’re assisting and encouraging the creation of beings like him? Forced into this world without regard of their wants, made for a purpose to kill and destroy and equipped with consciousness, without given the chance to discover themselves. Destined to a fate of being slain, captured, terrorized, experimented on, or worse.

You close your eyes again, “No, I didn’t mean-“ Your moral compass is spinning now, and you don’t feel capable enough to articulate your feelings on the matter. So instead you just look at him, eyes begging for him to give you a little grace.

He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but watch his chest rise and fall, tentacles wriggling idly behind him. He doesn’t speak, just studies you, those intense eyes boring into you.

“Do you have a name?” You ask gently.

The tentacles on his back curl, his menacing frame shrinking a bit.

He hesitates before speaking.

“Konig.”

“Konig,” You repeat. You give him your name before asking, “Do you need anything?”

He looks down his hood at you, tentacles itching with curiosity. “Water.”

You give a slow nod and gesture to the cell door behind you, “Yeah, I can, yeah.”

You go through the process of opening his cell door, sneaking the bucket into the nearest bathroom and filling it as high as you can with water, but it’s awkward with the sink’s base in the way. The bucket is a lot heavier when it’s filled and you have to waddle on your way back.

Back in the cell, water sloshes out of the bucket as you use your body to hold open the heavy cell door. You hover the bucket a few inches from the ground, the handle straining under the weight as you waddle it up just before the red tape and set it down. You look at him, slightly out of breath with your hands on your hips.

“Now - you can have this, but-“ You take a hand off your hip to point at him, pausing to take a tired breath, “You have to promise me you won’t throw it at me.”

His tentacles curl again, his hood tilting down. “I promise.”

You look hesitantly down at the red tape, kneeling behind the bucket and using your weight to slide it across the floor and over the boundary. He watches you carefully, studying the way your body moved as you kneel before him. As you work for him.

Once the bucket is over the barrier you stand and hesitantly take a step back, bracing yourself in case he launches this one at your head.

Instead he wraps a large tentacle around the jagged edge of the bucket, dragging it closer in order to get a better grip. You watch as two appendages work to bring it to his feet with ease. He takes turns eagerly soaking his tentacles in the water.

You’re not sure if he’s cleaning, drinking, or moisturizing, but you don’t ask. You watch as his tentacles smoothly work, picking up what remains in the bucket and dumping it over himself, letting it drip over his front and staining his pants a shade darker. He heaves a sigh of relief, his eyes closing and his glistening muscles relaxing against the restraints.

“Thank you.” He says, low and quiet. A tentacle grips the empty bucket and extends to its full reach, placing it carefully at the boundary.

After his tentacle retracts you reach for the jagged rim, scraping the bottom of the bucket along the concrete as you pull it back into the safe zone with two fingers. “Thank you.” You give a weak smile and gesture to the empty container in your hands. “I can keep bringing you water, if you continue to refrain from throwing?”

He nods, voice bordering on patronizing as his tentacles curl, “I promise.”

When you return the next day, you’ve got a new bucket and a small hose curled up and hanging off your shoulder.

You figured if he was being held prisoner, he at least deserved a full bucket of water and one that didn’t reek of dead mackerel. Konig watched as your struggle to manage to drag in both buckets while holding the heavy door open. When the door closes behind you with its noisy thud and grating alarm, you toss the fish over first, doubling back to haul the water closer. After getting it near the tape, you have to use your back and dig the heels of your feet against the concrete to slide it the rest of the way across the tape. The water sloshes onto your hair and down the back of your shirt as the bucket slides out from under your weight. You nearly fall back into his radius, but catch yourself with a nervous laugh.

You turn to get a glimpse of his tentacle as it pulls the water bucket closer. From here you get a peek at the suckers on his tentacles, each working independently as it grips around the rim and drags the bucket closer with ease. Just one of his larger appendages was stronger than your whole body. It gave you an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you continued to sit on the ground inches from the boundary, your legs crossed as you watch him eat and bathe.

“Thank you.” He says, and you’re unable to decipher his tone over his harsh voice.

“It’s uh, it’s no problem.” You’re memorized by the way his tentacles move, each working independently. It’s a lot of multi-tasking, you think, but it looks like it’s second nature for him, as natural to you as walking and talking at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” He says, in between bites.

“For what?” You ask, head tilting to the side.

“For throwing the bucket at you.” He keeps his gaze to his meal, “Your first day.”

You’re caught off guard by his apology. You hadn’t expected to see self-reflection and regret from him.

You shrug, “I get it. I mean, imprisoned by enemies of war? Restrained against your will? I think everyone has a right to be a little feisty in that situation.” You give another weak smile, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on your lab coat.

He huffs, wrapping around another mackerel and letting it disappear under his hood.

He lets the silence sit, but the biologist in you can’t help but analyze his diet, “You gettin’ tired of eating the same thing everyday?”

A tentacle reaches up to pick a fish bone from his teeth before flicking it casually to the floor. He considers your question carefully, a habit of his you’ve already logged.

“I’m tired of everything,” he says, and the exhaustion in his voice makes you look to the floor in shame.

Your arm crosses over your chest, thumb anxiously running over your opposing bicep, “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve lost count.” He says.

You wonder if he actually wants to be in conversation with you, or if any stimulation is a better alternative to staring at these four walls, alone with nothing but his own thoughts.

You take another deep breath, accustomed to the overwhelming smell of fish by now.

You’re not sure what to say to him. No words could offer someone in his situation comfort. Instead you watch as he finishes his meal and simultaneously bathes his appendages. It’s oddly alluring, how he moves. You wonder just how many things he’s capable of doing at once. Such a being must be very efficient.

He doesn’t seem to mind your company or curious stares. If he does, he certainly doesn’t voice them. You think he must be used to staring by now, and you wonder if you’re no better than the rest.

When you return the next day, you’ve brought a door jam. You’ve got too many things in your arms to carry in to be able to manage the door all at once. Konig watches from his restrained position as your cluttered silhouette stumbled into the cell. You set the buckets down with a thud, letting the extra bags roll off your shoulders. You have to huff, the trek down the hall weighed down supplies stealing your breath from you. Once you’ve removed the door jammer, silencing the annoying alarm and leaving you both with privacy, you return to his meal.

“I brought you some stuff.” You say as you shake the food bucket before tossing the contents in his direction. Various seafoods you could scrounge up in the fridge scatter to the floor. Shrimp, clams, oysters, a few different species of fish. Whatever seafood hadn’t turned rotten in the walk-in fridge.

His tentacles wriggle and reach out, suckers gripping to the food before him as he brings it to his mouth.

You’re not sure, but by the way his tentacles are wiggling you think you’ve won at least a few brownie points.

You turn from him to walk the bucket of water to the boundary, letting it dangle between your legs in an awkward waddle.

“I brought something else, too.” You say with a hint of hesitance, straining a bit as you set the bucket on the concrete.

His tentacles curl in… anticipation? Curiosity? Hatred? You’re not sure, but you’ve been trying to piece together his body language back in your lab for quite some time.

He doesn’t say anything, so once you’ve got the water bucket over the boundary, you cross back to the discarded bag and rummage through it.

You reveal a small black box, setting your bag down as you extend the antennae.

“A radio.” You say with a sheepish smile. He doesn’t say anything and you look to your gift with uncertainty, “I just thought - well y’know, I wouldn’t want to be trapped with my own thoughts. Everyone deserves some sort of distraction, yeah?” You say, kneeling on the floor as you set the it into his radius.

His glowing eyes stare down the present, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking. “Not a music guy?” You ask tentatively, a hand finding the back of your neck.

A tentacle slowly extends in your direction, carefully wrapping the radio in its grip. He brings it to his face, examining it with his glowing eyes. He sets it down carefully, and while he doesn’t say anything, you’ll take it as a win that he didn’t immediately fling it into the wall, shattering it to a thousand pieces.

You stare down at the floor for awhile, the only sound filling the room is his slick tentacles tending to his meal and bath, clam shells clattering to the ground as he quickly works the meat from them.

“Thank you.” He says, in between bites. It comes out low and vulnerable, as if the words were foreign to him, or possibly held down by the weight of things unsaid. Maybe it’s because he’s having to be kind to a captor, forced to be cordial to someone holding him prisoner here - and for what? Meeting his basic nutritional requirements?

He could be playing the long con, hiding his deep hatred for you so he can lure you into trusting him. You’ll end up like the ones before you, destined to the fate of a sudden and unfortunate accident.

Your stomach turns at your predicament. You could be educating the future about the miracle that is the powerhouse of the cell, but no, you just had to take the government research job, flashy paycheck and hopes of changing the world.

He tenses for a moment, tentacles stilling except for one that loops up underneath his hood, picking something from his teeth. He holds it in front of his eyes to get a better look at his find.

His gaze flicks to you, another undecipherable stare that sends a chill up your spine. You watch with bated breath as his gaze returns to the item in his grip, tentacle moving in your direction before carefully placing it at the boundary. You watch as his appendage curls like a snake to gently nudge it in your direction. Like a marble it rolls to you, over the red tape and bouncing off your shoe. Shaking hands stop its slowing roll before you pick it up between your fingers.

A pearl, from one of the oysters you’d given him. It’s uneven, not a perfect sphere, but its texture is still smooth in your fingers. You wipe the spit and oyster remains on your lab coat before letting the pearl rest in your palm, tilting it in the light to get a better look at it. It’s a purplish gray, iridescent colors shifting as you move it.

“How neat.” You say, tone that of an interested biologist, “Poor guy must of had a splinter.”

Once you get a good look at it, you set the small treasure back across the tape to return it to him, but he stops you.

“For you.” He says, definitively enough that you can’t argue.

You lips part as you look to him, stunned and wide-eyed at his gesture.

Maybe he hadn’t hated you.

You wrap your hands carefully around the pearl, bringing it close to your chest.

“Thank you,” You say, voice breathy in awe.

You unwrap your hand to study it carefully in your hands, your little pearl. Cradling it as if it’s a fragile being if it’s own, not a resilient clump of calcium carbonate that survived both a life in an oyster at the bottom of the ocean and engineered predator teeth capable of cleaning the meat off a skeleton in seconds.

He watches you study your gift, the same way you had studied him with eyes wide in amazement and curiously. You don’t see his muscles relax against his restraints. He continues to eat, slowing his pace as his stare stays on you.

You hadn’t exchanged any other words during that interaction, but you think the silence that encompassed the cell was comfortable. At least on your end, you’re not sure about Konig.

He passes the empty water bucket back you, and before you gather all of your things, you tuck your precious pearl away in a pocket of your lab coat.

Back in the lab, you rolled the pearl in your fingers, wondering if Konig’s gesture had meant the same to you as it had to him.

Humans regard pearls as highly as a precious gem, but maybe to him it was no different than discarding trash, just as he had flung the fish bones that got stuck in his teeth. He may have even been demonstrating his annoyance with you.

How dare you not clean his oysters before you serve him, do you want him to choke?

Does he know the rarity of a pearl? How we string them into necklaces? Adorn ourselves with them to elevate our look? How we gift them to our loved ones?

There was so much you didn’t know about him. His mystique kept you up at night and your mind wondered with the possibilities. You were a researcher at heart, aching to get an understanding of him from the inside out. Endless analyses filled your days and black tentacles swarmed your dreams. In the hours between night and dusk you considered your own morality. You’d never met one of the biowarfare creations up close before. You didn’t realize they were capable of sentient thought. That they are truly beings of their own freewill instead of a programmed organic weapon.

You think you’ve already crossed too far over the line, that there was nothing you could do to make it right.

The next time you visit Konig, the sound of the radio floods the cell between the calls of the grating alarm. Once the door secures behind you, you can make out a talk show. The news or perhaps something educational, judging by the dry voices and even tones you hear before he turns the dial off with a tentacle, his glowing eyes giving you his full attention. You don’t say anything, but it does make your chest fill with a slight warmth to know he’s using your gift.

“I took a trip to the dock this morning,” You start as you drag the bucket of seafood to the tape, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get the smell out of my car, but it’s crab season, so, I got some. Got a tuna, too. Oh, and scallops, you eat those?”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes narrow and his tentacles twitch and curl behind him.

“Lobster was a bit steep, but I can keep my eye out.” You say, setting the entire bucket just over the boundary. He had earned his trust with the bucket, and it was too demeaning to force him to eat his food off the filthy concrete floors.

His eager tentacles pull the bucket to his feet, digging into it to uncover your gifts. He wastes no time getting them underneath his hood, you can see his arms tense and steady beneath his restraints as his teeth sink into his meal.

You slide him the bucket of water and then stand back to observe as his slick tentacles take it from you. Simultaneously he’s able to clean multiple crabs at once, expertly working the meat out of its complex exoskeleton and leaving nothing but shell. Much faster than you’ve ever seen any octopus feed.

You think briefly to the feeders before you, wondering if their sudden and unfortunate accidents were just Konig cleaning the meat off a skeleton. You wonder if he was designed to feast on his enemies, if his diet had held space for human.

Another meal.

You look down to the space between you and the red tape. Three paces away. You casually make it four, just for good measure.

“Thank you.” He says, and it’s slowly becoming your language. The words thank you uttered a thousand different ways, each with a different meaning, weight, and inflection, neither of you fluent or able to decipher the other.

You don’t feel comfortable prodding, instead you steady your feet and watch him mesmerizingly tear apart his meal, body restrained but tentacles still fully dexterous. You wondered if he minds you watching him eat, or if he felt like a zoo animal under your watch. Your hand creeps into your pocket to nervously play with the pearl, fingers running over the smooth surface.

After he clears a few more crabs, he looks up from his meal to eye you carefully. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, how disheveled you look.

“Tired?” He asks.

One hand stays with the pearl while the other rubs the back of your neck. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep last night, uh, so I went to the docks early this morning.”

He flicks another shell into his pile, studying you carefully. After a few moments his tentacles outstretch welcomely, some resting against the concrete floor, “You can rest here.”

You tense under his stare, your eyes shifting hesitantly to his tentacles. “Oh, no - I just have a lot of work to do.” You eye his core for a moment before returning to his gaze, “I can sit for a little, though.”

He gives a pleased hum as you do, eyes narrowing as he watches you prop yourself against a wall on his side, leaving about three feet between you and the red tape. His gaze turns back to the seafood as he works. You observe him, resting your head against the cool concrete and staring down your nose. You can’t help but close your heavily eyelids, listening to the sound of shells snapping and being tossed to the floor.

Your fingers continue to smooth over the pearl in your pocket. It became a habit of yours, fingers finding the pearl absentmindedly, rolling it between your touch to soothe yourself.

You’re thinking about all the things you want to ask him. About his physiology, his full capabilities. About how he feels, what thoughts and emotions exist in a brain engineered for warfare. About his opinion of you, if he’s disgusted with you or if he understands that you’re both just products of a horrific environment.

Is he capable of empathy?

You couldn’t ask. Your relationship seemed so fragile and delicate as it was, so you both opt for silence.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you open your eyes again, but he’s done his feeding and bathing, both buckets emptied and placed at the boundary in the center of the room. He’d tidied his cell, the floor cleared and the food bucket now holding his cleaned crabs, various shells, and fish bones.

His tentacles stir when your eyes meet his, and you take a sharp inhale as you rouse. You touch a hand to your heart, the other feeling for the pearl through your pocket. Your eyes find the red tape, and you’re still in your spot, propped up on the wall three feet from the boundary.

“Did I fall asleep?” You say, touching your forehead. If you had, you don’t remember having a nightmare.

His hood tilts up and he shrugs.

“How long’s it been?”

After a moment he shrugs again, tentacles working in rhythm to his movements.

Right, he wouldn’t know. You give a small nervous laugh at your foolish question, leaning forward and resting your arms on your knees.

“I should probably get going.” You say, but you don’t move from your spot, and he doesn’t wish you goodbye.

You stare at the floor on your side of the red tape. You can see his larger tentacles wriggling in the corner of your eyes, along with the glow of his stare.

Your back ached from sitting on concrete for an extended period. It made you wonder how sore Konig was, his arms having been restrained to their position bent behind his head for ages, forced into a standing position every hour of the day.

“I’ve made a huge mistake.” You say with a laugh, one in disbelief of yourself. You lay your palm flat on your forehead again. “I don’t know how it got this far, really.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing at you. He doesn’t say anything, and you continue.

“I’m just in too deep, right?” You huff, throwing your hand back down to your thigh. “I’m all torn up about this. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I’m just thinking about this nightmare of a job I’ve got myself in. You get so caught up in the paperwork and day-to-day, you forget what the end result is. I didn’t realize you were so sentient.” You give another nervous laugh, exasperated.

“Now I don’t know what to do.” A hand moves to your pocket and pulls out your pearl, holding it tightly in a closed palm by your side. “I’d try to make it right, but I don’t know how, okay? I really don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t know if there is a right thing to do, I think that ship has sailed.”

The right thing would have been never getting involved in this line of work, to never have learned of or aided in the creation of beings like him in the first place. But you’re both here, together, and there’s no way out.

You gnaw on your lip, looking to the ground. His eyes don’t leave you. Silence drapes over the cell as your words echo through both of you.

After the long pause he speaks, harsh voice layered with a hint of optimism, and his tentacles twitch and curl with his words.

“It’s not too late.”

You’re not able to meet his gaze, so you solemnly shake your head at the floor. You already know what he’s suggesting.

“You understand why I can’t do that, right?” You ask, soft and defeated.

He tenses under his restraints. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push. You hope that means he understands. That he understands the risks he’s asking you to take. The threat of your employers, the threat of him, fully realized and unrestrained. That you wouldn’t stand a chance against a powerful being like him. That no matter how many gifts and thank yous are exchanged, your actions will always layered with a high probability of deceit. That trust is inherently not possible in a relationship between a prisoner and the keeper. Between a being made for killing and the target he’s designed to kill.

The silence falls over you both again.

When you finally stand to retrieve the buckets, his gaze follows you.

“Perhaps in another life, we’ll get it right.”

Your shoulders tense at his words, your pace slowing. You don’t meet his eyes as you leave to discard his scraps, the harsh alarm and clunk of the door concealing your exhausted sigh.

The next few visits, you wordlessly hand over his meals and water before sitting on your spot against the wall, resting as you wait for him to return the buckets. It feels so nice to close your eyes, and it’s hard for him to haunt your thoughts when you know exactly what he’s doing. Your subconscious has a difficult time running wild when presented face to face with reality. It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks, even if the concrete hurts your back and leaves your neck stiff. You feel oddly comforted being in the presence of the only other being who understands your struggle, even if he was the heart of your conflict.

Konig doesn’t seem to mind when you doze off, at least he doesn’t complain. He may just not want to bite the hand that feeds him anything other than mackerel on the brink of decomposition. Sometimes you’re out for a few minutes, sometimes hours, not waking up until well into the evening, long after you should have left the building.

He never disturbs you, letting you rest as long as you need. Listening to the light snores you make, his gaze fixed on the rise and fall of your chest.

He can tell you’re still afraid of him, when the first thing you do as you stir is search with wide eyes for the red tape to ensure you’re still safely outside his radius. You always relax when you meet his stare, though, watching his tentacles curl as you rouse.

You always run your hand over your left coat pocket, usually at the same time you’re searching for the red tape in a panic.

He wonders if you’ve brought something to defend yourself if things go wrong for you. If your hand reaches for the outline of a weapon in your pocket, some feeble defense to soothe your fears of him.

You usually offer an embarrassed laugh or coy smile as you adjust, usually while rubbing out a knot on your back.

Sometimes, especially if you haven’t gotten a lick of sleep the night prior, you’ll readjust from your spot against the wall to the floor, curling up on the concrete and positioning your arm underneath you as a pillow. You’ll rub the sleep from your eyes when you wake, propping yourself up on your elbow to look for a watch that doesn’t exist.

Little words are exchanged. What words could be shared to offer either of you comfort? Anything he says could just be a ploy to gain your trust. Anything you say does little to aid his position as prisoner.

There’s one visit, when you stir, where your back is fully flush to the concrete and you get a view of the ceiling of his cell. Your eyes widen, always with a sharp inhale, as you turn over and prop yourself up to search for the red tape. It takes you too long to find it, having to press your chin to your chest to get it in your view.

You had rolled over in your sleep, bust having crossed over the boundary, forearms propping yourself up in Konig’s radius.

You freeze, eyes wide as you look to him, wondering if he was aware of the easy prey ready for the taking.

He stares at you, tentacles still wriggling, but not outstretched. He keeps them pulled close to him, unlike his usual intimidating posture.

You’re still frozen in your spot, eyes wide and locked onto him as you process.

He could have easily wrapped a tentacle around your neck and ended your life before you had even woken up. Or worse, he could have restrained you, tortured you, and held you hostage as a mean to earn his freedom.

But he didn’t.

He’d left you undisturbed while you rested, as he always does.

Your heartbeat has made its way to your ears, muffling the sounds of hitched breaths escaping your parted lips. You two haven’t broken eye contact as you lay paralyzed on the floor.

He had spared your life, that was clear to you. He had resisted the urge to effortlessly snap your neck or get revenge on you for assisting in holding him prisoner.

You slowly sit up, locked on to his gaze.

Another trick to gain for your trust, you wonder. Spare your life now and stab you in the back later.

You slowly scoot outside his radius, not turning your back on him as you hesitantly stand and clear your throat.

Once you’re outside of his reach, you feel for the pearl through your pocket, but you can’t find the telling bump through the fabric of your lab coat. You reach into your pocket, finally taking your eyes off Konig’s glowing stare. Your fingers come up empty and you look to the floor where you had fallen asleep, and your eyes find it a few paces from the boundary.

When Konig sees what you had been hiding in your pocket all this time, and your hesitance to step back over the red tape, a tentacle carefully reaches to pick up your pearl. Instead of nudging the pearl back over to the tape and letting it roll to you as he did the first time, he flips his tentacles over so it’s sucker-up, unfurling it to his maximum length to present the pearl to you at waist height.

You can’t help the way your brows retract and your mouth parts as you study his slick appendage. You’ve never gotten this close of a look at his tentacles before. Each sucker wriggles independently, just as his tentacles did. You wonder if it’s autonomous to him, or if he has control over each one. Your shoes scrape the concrete as you shuffle nervously to the boundary, toes pressed up on the red tape to take the pearl from him. He could easily wrap his appendage around your wrist and pull you fully into his reach, just as he does with the buckets. Your fingers tremble as you reach for your possession, the involuntary shaking causes you to brush against his tentacle, leaving behind a clear slick on both you and your pearl.

His appendage retracts once you’ve taken it from him. A heat creeps up your cheeks, embarrassed that you’ve been caught hanging onto his gift like this. Carrying it around with you and visibly worried when you lose it.

If he had been simply discarding his trash instead of giving you a gift, unaware of the value of such an item, he probably thinks it’s strange of you to continue carrying it around.

He doesn’t voice his thoughts if he has any, just watched quietly as you tuck the pearl back into your pocket, smoothing over it once it’s secured.

“Thank you.” You say sheepishly, your eyes still wide as you digest his actions and lack there of. You’re not sure if you’re thanking him for returning your belonging or for refraining from killing you.

You have trouble making eye contact with him, eyes glued to the floor.

You’re thinking that maybe there might be some trust between you two after all. You’re thinking about the new details you noticed on his tentacles from your close view that you’ll surely record later. About gifts and thank yous and curious states and defined muscles engineered to kill. About how you can only get rest when you sleep under his watch. About what’s hidden under that hood. About how he didn’t kill you when given the opportunity like you had suspected he would.

You think about what he’s thinking.

Then you look to the buckets, still at his feet and not emptied and placed back at the boundary like your usual routine follows. Your brows furrow as you meet his glowing eyes.

Your chest rises and falls as you study him.

“I should probably get going.” You say, nodding to the buckets in an attempt to get him to pass them back over to you.

His tentacles curl and writhe at your statement, and his head tilts upwards. He lets your words hang in the air before he responds.

“Not finished.” He says evenly.

Your brow quirks at the unusual occurrence. It’s not like him to leave a meal unfinished, to stray from the routine.

You give him the benefit of the doubt, choosing to remain optimistic about your new step in trust, “I’ll come by for it later, then.”

You turn on your feet to leave, hands reaching for the lanyard of your badge like muscle memory. You swipe for it a few times, fingers coming up empty. Your chin meets sternum as you look down to confirm its absence, patting pockets and swiveling on your feet to look to the floor where you had lost your pearl.

You don’t see it, so you eye Konig, stare narrowed.

Time slowed as a tentacle, previously obscured behind his back, unfurls and stretches far above his head. The end of his appendage loops around your lanyard, light reflecting off the lamination of your ID as it rotates in the air. He dangles it above you both tauntingly.

Your gaze switches between Konig’s stare and the badge. It feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. You don’t want to believe it - you’re in denial waiting for him to pass it back to you just as he did the pearl. He doesn’t, keeping your badge far on his side of the boundary a few feet above his head, playing keep-away with your freedom.

You shift in your spot and swallow.

“Yeah?” You ask, voice breathy but with an edge. You need him to verbally confirm he was stabbing you in the back, hoping he says anything to clear up the misunderstanding.

The tentacle holding the badge shakes, and the rest of his appendages outstretch, just as he had when you approached his cell the first time.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says definitively, a few of his tentacles curling inwards with his words.

You rub your lips together and nod your head, digesting your predicament. He must have worked the badge off your neck when you rolled into his reach, delicately enough not to wake you.

You’re not scared, surprisingly, not afraid that you’re locked in here with him, most likely on a path to a sudden and unfortunate accident.

You’re more shocked at his betrayal, though you understand you probably shouldn’t have been. You’d been predicting this outcome from the beginning, that he was just hedging his bets and getting on your good side until you let your guard down. It appears your heart still bleeds regardless of your logical analysis, and you can’t help the lump that forms in your throat. You really had wanted to believe you two had an unspoken friendship, that regardless of the circumstances, you had his trust. You felt naive that some part of you had fallen for it. That you had invested enough of yourself to him to be hurt by his betrayal.

Your face burns as tears well in your eyes. You shift in your spot, sure the pain is obvious on your features.

“Don’t do that.” He pleads, tone a lot softer than his words. A few empty tentacles reach in your direction to offer comfort.

You don’t take it, your hand covering your mouth as you screw your eyes shut, tears escaping down your cheeks. You sink to your knees in defeat, almost perfectly between the middle of the cell door and your side of the red tape. All of the worry and ache and exhaustion you’ve experienced in the last few weeks involuntarily floods out of you in broken sobs.

Konig’s tentacles writhe as he watches you cry.

After a few moments, you sniff, wiping snot and tears from your nose with your coat sleeve, “Just give it back, please.” You plead at a whisper, stare desperate, “We can pretend this never happened, it can go back to how it was before.” You look up at him, face red and eyes brimmed with tears, “Please.”

It takes him a moment to consider your proposition. He lowered the tentacle holding your badge, but keeps it close to him. His words come out strained.

“You understand why I can’t do that, right?”

A loud sob escapes you at having your words thrown back at you. Without much other choice, you bury your face into your knees.

You cry for the better part of an hour, muffling your sobs into your thighs, curled up in a ball on the concrete.

When you’ve finally regained some composure, you wipe your face for the final time with a sniff.

When you speak again, your voice is forceful but nasally from the congestion of crying. Your head cocks back and you put your palm flush to the concrete, leaning back almost casually to support yourself.

“So what’s the plan?”

He tilts his head at you, and you don’t wait for him to answer before you continue.

“I don’t get the badge until I let you out, right? We both wait, you waiting for me to give in to starvation, and me waiting for someone to come to my rescue before it gets to that point - is that it?” It’s obvious you’re angry with him, words dripping with malice.

He huffs, muscles tensing against his restraints. His eyes narrow at you, tentacles outstretching to fill the space of his cell. You’ve grown accustomed to his bluffing behavioral response and it does little to intimidate you now.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” He says, appendages curling inwards. “We can work together.”

You give your own huff, breaking eye contact with him. “It’s a little late for that.”

“I tried.” He said firmly, “I tried to do it the right way.”

You think back to your rebuff of his first proposal and groan.

“What choice did I have?” He asks, leaning against his restraints, ropes digging into his arms as the badge lowered to his side, “You wouldn’t have done the same if you were me?”

Your lips purse as you mull it over. Your eyes are still locked on to the floor and another frustrated groan leaves you. You didn’t want to put yourself in his shoes, you just wanted to be mad.

You do what you can to be spiteful with your limited resources, lying to the floor with your back facing him. Your arm is propped under you and your legs curled up. You stare at the cell door, brows pinched as you fume.

Rationally, you know you won’t last long. That you just cried all the hydration out of your body and haven’t been feeding yourself well in the past few weeks, including today. Meanwhile Konig’s been consistently eating full meals with your help and kept his buckets of food and water unemptied and close for him to ration over the coming days. You’re not in the best shape mentally, either, compared to Konig who has absolutely nothing to lose in his position. Even if soldiers bust down the cell door and filled him with lead, would it really be a worse fate than locked and bound in these four concrete walls?

Regardless of your long lists of disadvantages, you’re too upset with him to even consider giving into his demands at the moment.

You stew for hours.

You’ll occasionally adjust in your spot, sitting up to stretch the ache in your muscles before switching to lay on your other side, never facing Konig or even so much as sneaking a glance in his direction. You’re too upset with him to look at him.

Your mind is swirling, thoughts interject thoughts, throwing you new details to fuss over. You’re angry that he stole from you, that he took advantage of your vulnerability, the restlessness he was responsible for. You’re angry that he trapped you in here, imprisoned you even though he knows how awful it feels to be a prisoner. You’re angry that he can stomach sitting back and watching you starve and dehydrate yourself out of spite. You’re angry that he had plotted against you, made you out to be the fool, even if you’d suspected he had been doing so this whole time.

Mostly you’re just upset that you got your hopes up.

Instead of thank yous, your new shared language becomes silence.

You wonder if he can tell the difference. Between the solemn silence, the seething silence, the desolate silence. The thoughtless silences that come after running your mind in circles enough to physically exhaust yourself. The silence that falls on you when you finally shut your eyes, slipping into the comforting arms of unconsciousness.

You wake with a sharp inhale, desperately searching for your precious red tape. It takes you a moment, when you stir, to remember the events of yesterday. Or today, you’re not sure how long you were asleep and you have no way to tell the time.

You had already locked eyes with Konig. His tentacles wriggled and stretched when you looked at him for the first time since his betrayal, but when you see your damned badge on his side of the boundary it comes flooding back to you. An audible groan leaves you as you roll back over to face the wall.

You try to fall back asleep, desperate to escape from reality, but the dryness in your mouth is impossible to ignore.

Your mouth is begging for moisture and your joints are stiff. A dehydration headache had settled behind your eyebrows.

You need water.

You have two options.

Beg Konig to share his water bucket, or let Konig free and you’re free to get your own.

You decide you’ll just rot on the floor, instead.

You close your eyes and try to ignore the sandpaper feeling in your mouth enough to lull yourself back to sleep. You’re mulling over your options for water, and a detail you can’t believe you’d missed makes you sit up to look at Konig for the first time intentionally. Your head had swiveled around quickly, brows lowered in offense, “How do you expect me to get you out of here without giving me my badge back?”

He lets your question hang as his glowing eyes meet yours. His stare is intense, but yours doesn’t falter.

“I asked you a question, Konig. I don’t have anything to free you with. I know you don’t have anything to free yourself with.”

Your words are sharp and dangerous.

“So what’s the plan? You’ll have to give me my badge back to get something to cut you free.”

He looks to the pocket that held your pearl. His plan had one flaw - that he had not accounted for the outline in your pocket you’d reached for whenever you stirred being anything other than a weapon. He was sure you had brought something to defend yourself with if he had attacked you. Something that you could use to cut his restraints once you gave in to your starvation. He miscalculated the amount of trust you’d placed in him and it should have become obvious to him the moment you had looked to the pearl after finding your pockets empty.

He eyes the mounts that hold his restraints, two on the floor to his left and right and one in the ceiling directly above his head, all out of his reach.

“You’ll untie it at the base.” He says definitively.

Your teeth grit as you look to the ceiling, “How do you expect me to get-“ You cut yourself off when you realize what he’s suggesting, “No! No.”

His head tilts down but his stare says on you.

“No. Too far.”

A few of his tentacles curl, “I don’t want to watch you starve.”

“Then give me my badge back, Konig!”

His body tenses at the way you say his name. Coated in wrath and following a harsh demand. Your aggressive volume and fists clenching by your sides trigger his bluff behavior, tentacles stretching to fill the space of his cell.

He says nothing, and your eyes dart around his features before you let out a huff, turning away from him again.

You regretted saying anything to him. You’d wished you’d just swallowed your realization a little longer to mull it over before your compulsive outburst.

You hadn’t had a chance to consider that he would offer to give you a lift. You had been so focused on avoiding his reach that the thought of him wrapping around you and lifting you up in a tentacle was foreign to you. You’re not sure you would have thought of it even if you had taken time to consider it. The idea of getting close to him once he was cut free from his restraints was nerve wracking enough, let alone trusting him enough to hold you steady a story in the air as you free him.

You manage to sit with your spite and dehydration for a few more hours, even sneaking in short nap before you break.

You sit up slowly, head pounding as you prop yourself up with a palm flush to the concrete. You look at him, eyes pleading.

“Konig,” You say, so much softer than the last time you said his name, “I need water.”

His tentacles twitch, but he says nothing, glowing eyes staring you down.

“Please, Konig.” You say, voice broken.

He doesn’t respond, and you can’t help but sob, no tears escaping your dry tear ducts.

Your voice raises in desperation.

“Konig, don’t do this to me!”

He closes his eyes, the glow of his stare disappearing behind black eyelids. A tentacle reaches down to turn on his radio, and he dials the volume up to drown out your pleads.

A heartbroken expression spreads on your features. How could he do this to you? How could he put you in this position, after everything?

Your eye catches the water bucket by his side.

He doesn’t want to give it to you?

He thinks he can make you beg and plead for your lifeblood?

Fine.

You’ll just get the damn water yourself.

Your brows pinch as you check on Konig, who still has his eyes closed to rid the visual of your crying.

Your palms have already sprung yourself forward before your feet catch up to you, having to straighten your upper half as your shoes scrambled for concrete. After light fumbling you quickly pass over the red tape, beelining for the water bucket. You’re running so fast you overshoot, having to extend your leg to skid the sole of your shoe on the floor to slow yourself. Your body lowers to the ground with your extended leg as fingers wrap around the handle of the bucket. You’d looked to Konig, whose glowing eyes had snapped open and darted straight to you at the sound of your shoe skidding and plastic scraping against the concrete as you struggled with the bucket.

You catch a glimpse of his tentacles writhing furiously before starting your dash back to safety. You’re reminded of the heavy weight of the water bucket, stumbling over yourself as you struggle to manage both its heft and your panic at the same time. You’re inches from safety when a tentacle shoots out and loops around your ankle, pulling your leg out from under you when you go to take your final leap over the red tape. Your palms extend to brace the concrete, and while you manage to narrowly avoid hitting your head, you hear an internal rip that makes your stomach turn and a blinding hot pain bracelets around your wrist, stunning you. The bucket had crashed to the ground on its side, water spilling to the floor and soaking your clothes.

“No!” You grit, but you don’t have time to think about the water or your wrist because Konig starts to drag you backwards through the puddle and into the air with the tentacle wrapped firmly around your ankle.

A gasp escapes you and fingers desperately scratch at wet concrete until you’re fully airborne, hanging upside down and clawing for the ground.

You curl up in an attempt to rip his firm grip off your ankle, but your core isn’t strong enough to reach, so you end up just wriggling in his grasp like a fish out of water.

Another meal.

You hear the radio turn off, and your eyes find the ground, partially curtained by the tail of your lab coat. Your soaked shirt has slipped down, revealing your core. Water drips from your soaked clothes and splash onto the concrete. You can tell the ground is a long fall away and when you give up reaching for your ankle, your hands stretch out towards the ground and preemptively brace your fall, injured wrist pulsing as you follow your instincts. Involuntarily squeals are leaving your parted lips as he stills, dangling you so your body is above both of your heads and you’re eye to eye with him as you hang.

You look at him with fear swelling in your eyes. You’ve never seen him up close before like this, even if upside down. You’re inches from the hood that covers his face, glowing eyes reflecting off yours. You still, free limbs falling in line with gravity as you stare into his narrowed gaze with wide eyes. Your headache is severely exacerbated by hanging upside down, feeling your own pulse in your head as the blood drains to it.

When he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous, and he gives you a slight shake with his tentacle for emphasis.

“I think it’s time for you to let me out.”

His growled yet arrogant words send a chill up your spine. Reminded you the being you’ve come to feel so much for was still a monster.

He’s left no room for argument. He’s given you plenty of chances to let you make the choice yourself, and yet you resisted. You had opted for the hard way, and you had left him no choice.

Release him, or suffer a sudden and unfortunate accident.

“Okay! Okay!” You squeak out with a slight flail, hoping it pleases him enough to prevent him from slamming you as hard as he can into the concrete.

You still again, slowly holding your hands up, palms showing. You calmly let out one more, “Okay.”

His head tilts backwards slightly, silently keeping your stare.

“Can I at least be upside-right? Please?” You squeak out, heart racing intensely enough you can hear it in your ears.

He lets you dangle for a few more moments before a tentacle curls around your waist. Instead of using the end of his tentacle like the one around your ankle, he had secured around your bare waist with the middle part of another appendage, the thicker grip giving him a sturdier hold on you. You think this must what it be like to be in the hold of a boa constrictor, trapping you and reminding you of its strength but not yet squeezing the breath from you.

He slowly flips you upside right, but keeps your flushed face inches from his. Your feet are only a few feet from the floor now, but you don’t bother trying to remove the tentacle on your waist. You’re well aware of his strength and you can feel his grip threatening to tighten around you. You won’t stand a chance against even one of his appendages, let alone all the others at attention behind him.

He takes his time looking you over, watching your eyes flick nervously between him, the tentacle firmly coiled around your waist, and the floor beneath you. Your mouth was stretched in fear and unease, breath hitched. You weren’t flailing anymore, but your feet did still mindlessly search for foundation and your hands had gripped on to his slick tentacle in an attempt to steady yourself.

He gives a huff before moving you through the air again. He goes slow, extending you out to the wall to his right. He has to pass you off to the end of another tentacle in order to use his full reach. You can’t help but feel felt up as he wraps and curls around you to keep you steady in the air.

He has to lay you almost diagonally with your head tilted towards the floor to get you close enough to the mount that tied off his binds. He uses some extra appendages to secure around your lower thighs and hips.

You let out a few breathy expletives as he adjusts you, grabbing and moving you against your will through the air.

You had to reach your arms out in a full extend, and even then the cool metal of the mount is just barely grazing your fingertips.

You wriggle in his grip, swiping at the post, grunting as you do so. He does his best to use the very end of his appendages to hold you in order to get you closer.

“Got it.” You say breathily as your hand grabs the mount. You give a light huff as you try and pull yourself closer, but Konig is extended his full range and instead you yank against his tentacles.

The knot of his ropes are tight around the loops of the metal post. You’re not sure if you’ll even be able to untie them with just your fingernails, but you don’t think Konig will accept an excuse.

He’s not hurting you, but his grip is definitively still tight, putting an uncomfortable pressure on your ribs. Had your clothes not already been soaked with water he would have left stains on your lab coat from the slick of his tentacles.

Your hands shake violently as you fuss with the knot. You’re forced to stretch, already sore muscles aching as you overextend them. Involuntary grunts escape through your gritted teeth as you dig at the knot, feet kicking as if you’re trying to swim closer to it. You try for minutes, but the knot is way too tight for you to even get a fingernail into. It doesn’t help that you’re being suspended, squished, and held at an angle, and your hands are soaked with water and Konig’s slick. You think your wrist is most definitely sprained, possibly broken, judging by the sharp decline in dexterity and searing pain that’s impossible to ignore as you fidget with the ropes.

The panic bubbles quickly, fingers scratching desperately at all of the loops of rope. You’re pleading under your breath for one of them to loosen, loosen just enough you can slip a finger in - but it doesn’t budge. One of your nails snap as you force it against a crease in the taught knot.

You’re guessing every time Konig has ever pulled against or leaned on the restraints it only forced the knot tighter, and with how long he’s been in this cell the rope has fused together with friction and time.

The panic isn’t on your side, causing you to thrash at the ropes and undo whatever insignificant progress you had made. Your whines would be matched with tears of irritation and fear if you had any water left in you.

“Konig?” You sob, “I can’t do it! I’m trying, really - the knot’s too tight!” You give the knot another frustrated claw with your broken nail, “I need a knife, scissors, something!”

You sigh and go limp, arms and top half dangling as his tentacles support you.

“Just kill me,” You whisper through your dry throat, eyes screwed shut and voice cracking.

You pause, and when you speak again your voice is quiet in defeat, but still holds an edge of malice, “Just do it and get it over with, hopefully the next feeder will be smart enough to bring a weapon.”

You’re still facing the wall, but you can feel his tentacles tense around your middle and lower limbs.

You both still, aside from the involuntarily and uneven heaving of your chest as you sob and wait for death.

All the appendages wrapped around you pull you closer to him. Two additional tentacles move to coil around your upper arms, and he tilts you so you’re upright instead of diagonal. You stay limp, feet and sprained wrist dangling. You let him move your body like a marionette, with your head tilted all the way forward and hair obscuring parts of your face.

He stops when you’re right in front of him again, you would be eye to eye if your chin hadn’t been pressed to your chest, feet only a few feet from the ground.

He holds you steady.

Considering how he wants to kill you, probably. Drag it out a little perhaps? Get a little torture in before he does it maybe?

Maybe your kindness will have not been for nothing, maybe he’s thinking about all the food and gifts and thank yous and he’ll repay you by making it quick. One swift snap of the neck or extra hard hit to the concrete, maybe.

He doesn’t do either.

He slowly lowers you to the ground. When your feet touch the floor and they don’t move to support your weight, he lifts you up an inch and comes in a second time at an angle, gently lying you on the ground so you’re flush with the concrete. His tentacles gently release from you and retract to his sides. Your badge gets placed gently on your stomach, and then all of his tentacles are off of you.

You don’t rush for the badge or the exit. You had already given up, and you weren’t about to give up on giving up, too. Your ass backwards way of maintaining some scrap of dignity.

You continue to lay limp on the floor, ignoring the badge he’d returned to you and keeping your eyes closed, tearlessly crying.

You’re not sure how long you lay on the floor, waiting for him to change his mind and kill you.

You think maybe he wants a challenge, maybe he likes a hunt. Or maybe he just wants to look you in the eyes while he does it.

So once your sobs subside you slowly sit up, your red and puffy eyes staring into his glowing eyes. His whole body is tensed, but he keeps all of his appendages close to him as they curl and twist alluringly.

You’re slouched as you stand, arms hung in front of you before you shift sloppily on your shoes, badge hitting the floor as it falls from your stomach.

You cock your head back to look at him and lick your chapped lips before giving a broken hum. You hold your arms out on either of your sides, as if inviting him to a fight, but you’re weak from dehydration, starvation, and your injury, so your movements are slowed.

You don’t speak, but your face reads Come on, kill me! What are you waiting for?!

He just stares at you, a look you’re unable to decipher from under his hood. His tentacles are writhing, but he keeps them close to his body, even if your stance is aggressive.

You let out a huff and roll your eyes, breaking the stare off. You walk over to his food bucket and empty out its contents onto the floor before stepping over to water bucket, shoes splashing in the puddle it sat in. You stack both buckets so you can carry them with one hand, before doubling back and swiping your badge off the floor with your broken nail, not so much as looking at Konig before you exit the cell.

Your first stop is to the bathroom, where you shed your lab coat, its thick fabric still wet.

You bend your aching muscles to awkwardly crane your head underneath the faucet, gulping down the streaming water. The sweet, precious water. Bathroom sink tap water has never tasted so good.

You’re drinking so fast you don’t even stop for breath. When you pull away, chin dripping and face puffy, you’re gasping for air. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the sink you had drank from.

Your hair was disheveled from being dragged and hung in the air, face puffy and swollen from crying, and skin showing your dehydration. Clothes soaked from the water bucket and Konig’s slick, face still dripping as you breathe deep.

You take a few more sips from the sink for good measure before turning the faucet off with force. You drape your coat over your injured arm and grab the buckets with the other before you march out of the bathroom and straight to your supervisor’s office.

Oh, the speech you were going to give him was going to be therapeutic. You are planning on letting him have it, telling him to post your position because you’re done, and then you’re going to tell him where he can shove his buckets.

You open his door hard enough the doorknob slams into the wall and bounces back with a shake, but his office is empty, and you let out another groan at the discovery through gritted teeth.

You go back to the lab, gather your things and leave, regardless of the time. You’re caught off guard when you get to the nearest window and see the dark sky. Nighttime.

You cry the entire ride home, not yet ready to process the events but stuck with an overwhelming feeling of dread and exhaustion in the pit of your stomach.

Your wrist was red and swollen and the movements of your steering wheel turned the pain to a cruel pulsing throb.

Once back in your home, you think about a list of things to do to take care of yourself, but opt for wrapping your wrist and popping a few over-the-counter pain relief pills while finishing a bottle of water at the same time. You crawl into bed and pass out without even getting under the covers.

—————————————————————-

You hadn’t set an alarm, so you wake to a tentacle-ridden nightmare with a sharp gasp. You jolt to a sit, wincing when you feel the searing hot pain that bracelets around the sprained wrist you’d used to support yourself.

You get your weight off of it, holding your wrapped arm in front of your face. It triggers the memories of Konig tripping you and your wrist hitting the concrete. Of him dragging you across the concrete floor by your ankle. Holding you prisoner. Starving you. Making you cry. Betraying you.

Threatening your life and then sparing it.

Had it all just been another one of his bluffs? Had he known from the beginning he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan, or did he change his mind about killing you once you’d pathetically given up, going limp in his tentacles?

When had he changed his mind?

Somewhere between the first day when he threw that bucket at your head and the moment he’d laid your limp body down on the ground he had changed his mind about killing you, that you knew.

He wasn’t just a mindless programmed weapon, he was capable of some amount mercy. Control.

Unless he knew that if he had killed you, he wouldn’t have been able to get his varied meals and water buckets. Maybe he had kept you alive as just another means to an end.

But he had kept you alive, that was understood.

You close your eyes, falling back onto your mattress. You’d been thinking about Konig non-stop these past few weeks. Obsessing, even. It was exhausting, him and you and both of your mortalities and the constant threat haunting you in and out of your dreams.

You decided you weren’t going to think about him now, that for the sake of your own sanity you needed to focus on yourself.

You treat yourself to a full breakfast for the first time in awhile, topping it off with more pain reliever and water. A long shower eases your aching muscles, but the one-handedness makes it awkward to bathe yourself.

You put on loungewear after you towel off and reapply your wrist wrap, in need of the extra comfort. You leave your dirty lab coat at home before you head back to the office, still in your lounge clothes. You won’t be there long, you decide. You’re going to tell your supervisor what happened, chew him out a little bit, and then let him know he’ll need someone to feed Konig while you take time off to heal and process.

You stop by the lab to pick up your buckets before heading straight to your supervisors office.

You open his office door without knocking and when his eyes meet yours his brows furrow as he gives your clothes a scan.

“I’m going to need some time off,” You say firmly, gesturing to your wrapped arm.

“What happened?” He says, brow quirking.

You laugh, “What happened? What happened?” You use your uninjured hand to shove the buckets to the ground forcefully, your tone dangerous, “Is that I accepted this shitty job offer in the first place. What were you thinking?”

He’s sweating now, eyes wide with shock as you raise your voice to him.

You continue, “You saddled me with feeding him. You gambled with my life.” Your tone goes from angry to quiet and stern, “He almost killed me.” Your gaze flicks to between each of his nervous eyes.

He sputters, “What- What do you mean? What happened?”

“He stole my badge and trapped me in that cell with him! He starved me! NONE of you came for me, NONE of you checked on me.” Your animated tone lowers to one of cold malice, “You saddled me with a deadly job and then left me to die. Not a single reinforcement.”

“How did he steal your badge?” He asks, face stretched in confusion.

You hesitate, “I-“ You cut yourself off. You can’t tell him you fell asleep in there. Because then you’d have to tell him about how you had fallen asleep waiting for him to empty his bucket. The bucket he wasn’t supposed to have. The loitering you were instructed not to do. The conversations you were forbidden from having. The unauthorized tape crossing.

“It doesn’t matter! I’m-“ You’re frazzled now, face reddening, “I’m leaving! Just make sure someone feeds him!” You fumble for the doorknob, leaving him with a bewildered expression and two colorful buckets.

“Are you quitting?!” He yells out after you’re already down the hall.

“Yes! No! I mean - maybe! I’ll let you know!”

You take three days off to take it easy, catch up on sleep, and ice your injuries. It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to relax, just getting lost in a mindless TV show and forgetting your worries for awhile. You didn’t want to think about Konig, it was too painful, but your thoughts kept leading you to him and you had to often remind yourself that you were supposed to be taking a break from him.

After three days, you’ve managed to steady yourself enough to get back to your research. The work had piled up during your stint as a feeder and you thought your normal work would be a good distraction.

The first time your supervisor catches a glimpse of you, he does a double take through the circular glass pane of the lab’s swinging doors before he enters.

He says your name, surprised but still cheerful, “It’s good to see you! Lab coat and all.” He lowers his voice, “I, uh, I didn’t think you’d be back.”

You don’t say anything, attention still to your work.

He clears his throat before continuing, “How’s your wrist?”

“Still sprained,” You say dryly, still not turning to him.

He sputters a bit, “Hope you feel better soon, uh.” He clears his throat again, “You’ll be happy to hear that,” he trails off for a moment before continuing, “It’s being put down.”

Your eyes finally find him, darting over quickly as you set down your notes.

“What’s being put down?”

“The creature.” He says with a smile, as if he’s offering his saving grace.

“No!” Leaves you involuntarily. The wrist with the bandage finds your heart as you stand, shaking your head at your supervisor, “You can’t do that!”

His brows pinch, “What do you mean? I thought you’d be happy about this. He tried to kill you.”

“No, if he tried to kill me I’d be dead, he almost killed me, he spared me!”

Your supervisor steps closer you, holding his palms up in a weak attempt to calm you. You back away from him with each step he takes, still shaking your head.

“He hurt you!”

“That was an accident!” You say, angrily. The edge in your tone causes him to still his stride. You don’t usually speak to him like this.

He says your name again, voice soft and eyes full of pity, “He put your replacement in the hospital.”

Your face goes slack as you look at him with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly, “No!”

He says your name again, “Yes. Listen, I see this has left you on edge. Maybe you should take some more time off, no problem. We can even get you in touch with a counselor specialized in war trauma.”

“No, listen to me, you can’t kill him!”

“How many more sudden and unfortunate accidents do you think we can continue reporting before the wrong person starts asking questions?!” His voice has lost his pity, obviously frustrated with your disapproval.

“You can’t be mad at a wasp for stinging when you whack its nest, can you?! He was made for that purpose!”

He raises his voice, stern enough it stuns you, “And what do you expect us to do with a monster made for the purpose of killing? Let it out into the public? Let it rot in a jail cell while we keep feeding him our employees?!”

“He didn’t kill me!” You say exasperatedly, “He didn’t kill me because you guys are starving him! You’re not feeding him enough. That’s enough to make any man kill.”

“Why are you sympathizing with it? It’s a monster!”

You look at him with squinted eyes and mouth parted in disgust, “He’s not a monster! He’s-“ You cut yourself off.

Your supervisor lowers his head in your direction and crosses his arms over his chest. “Go on.” He says.

You put your palms together gently in front of you, careful not to bend your injured wrist. A sigh leaves you.

“Look, I’ve been doing research on him, okay? He’s rather remarkable and he’s surprised me more time than I can count.”

He scoffs, “I’m sure it has.”

Your eyes screw shut for a moment as you groan in frustration, “No! I mean, sure, he is a miraculous biowarfare weapon equipped with superior predator features, that’s a given, but in addition to that he’s an intelligent creature capable of independent thought! He is capable of being kind and showing mercy. You don’t understand!”

He cocks a brow at you and sighs, “I guess I don’t.” He reaches out, as if he’s going to put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, but stops himself. “Look, it’s been a rough week for everyone here, okay? Why don’t you take some more time off and we’ll take care of things here.”

You realized there was going to be no getting through to him. That there would be no way to get him to see that Konig was an intelligent being capable of restraint, that he had no say in his creation as a weapon, that he was misunderstood due to the weight of being a prisoner, and that even the worst behaving prisoner deserved not to starve.

“You’re still going to kill him, aren’t you?” You say, more of a statement than a question.

He doesn’t say a word, pity still flooding his stare. He turns slowly, stopping once he’s got the lab door ajar at his finger tips,“I’ll see you when you’re feeling better.” He slips out, and you watch the lab door swing to a still as you swallow his words.

It doesn’t matter how you feel about Konig right now, all of your complex feelings have been pushed to the side. They can’t kill him, he doesn’t deserve that fate, that’s for sure. You can’t hold a being prisoner, underfeed him, and then expect him not to act on his primal urges. Not even a human would pass that test.

That and the idea of him disappearing from your life permanently is enough to make your heart pound and your head spin, having to press your uninjured hand to your forehead to wipe away your sweat.

This is your fault, you’re thinking. That if you hadn’t let a substitute go in there after you left things so messy with him maybe this fate would have been spared.

No, no. You can’t afford to think like that. You can’t afford to blame yourself for his actions.

But your actions could save his life.

“Yes,” you say, out loud frantically to yourself at your own idea, “Yes!”

You’re searching the lab, pulling open cabinets hard enough they slam against their holds, leaving their doors open as you dig out their contents and leave them scattered on the floor.

You find what you’re looking for, the sharpest object you could think of in the lab, a scalpel.

You had grabbed the entire dissecting kit with the firm grip of your uninjured hand, finding a sprint as soon as it’s in your grasp. As you run you lay your injured arm across your chest, setting the pouch on top of it like a makeshift table as you pry the zipper open and dig for the scalpel. Your feet are hitting the tile hard and each step jostles your injured wrist but you’re not sure how much time you have.

You have the horrible thought that it might be too late, that when you get there you’ll find an empty cell and you’ll never have the chance to say goodbye, I’m sorry, or thank you again. The lump in your throat and the prick of tears in your eyes makes you stumble, and you use the opportunity to slow to find the scalpel, pulling it from the hold of the pouch through blurry vision. You let the pouch slide off your bandaged arm and crash to the hall floor, returning to your quick pace, damned be lab rules of running with sharp instruments.

You slam your badge into the receiver in a panic, the tears already threatening to spill over at the thought of never seeing Konig again. The scalpel scratches against your badge and when the alarm sounds, you’re looking frantically down the halls to see if anyone is going to try and stop you. When you pry open the heavy metal door enough you stumble into his cell.

He’s still in there, alive, and your tears quickly turn to that of relief.

You’re don’t hesitate, crossing the red tape and closing the distance between you, scalpel in hand.

His tentacles are at a bluff, writhing and fully extended as you dash at him. You realize that sprinting at him full speed with a weapon after the way you left things was probably not the best way to approach the situation.

“Konig!” You say, out of breath and slowing to turn your direction towards the ropes instead of him. You waste no time scraping the scalpel against the taught restraint with your uninjured hand, “We got'ta get you out of here - they’re going to kill you!” The tears are flowing down your cheeks again. You’re not sure if it’s the panic, your upset feelings of him bubbling up at seeing him, or the thought of him being killed.

“We gotta get out of here, we have to go!”

You struggle through the first rope, handicapped by your injury and fraying it in multiple spots as your hand shakes. The scalpel slices all the way through, and the rope snaps back, the loops around Konig’s bicep releasing in large coils.

You make a dash for the rope restraining his other arm, out of breath and tears blurring your vision. Your hands shake as your uninjured hand slices the ropes, unable to grip the restraint with your other hand. You fumble it for moment, panic slowing you down. Something grazes your hand and you flinch, but relax when you see Konig’s tentacle gently tapping your palm. He flips it sucker up, offering to take the scalpel from you.

“Oh, yeah.” You say, a dizzy heat creeping up your cheeks. You hand him the scalpel, blade facing your chest so the end of his appendage can safely coil around it.

He takes slices precisely through one of the indents you started in the rope with ease.

You can’t help the awe as you watch him, mouth slightly part as your eyes follow the tentacle slice through the rope securing his wrists to the ceiling. You take a step back, hands slightly braced at your sides.

His free tentacles are curling and writhing in excitement as he gets the final swipe through his restraints, the slack releasing and dropping to the ground in loops. Once fully unrestrained, he takes his time stretching his muscles, eyes closed and small grunts leaving his lips as his tentacles move in synchronization with his movements. He rubs out the red and irritated lines the ropes left behind on his arms.

You’re still in awe as you watch him, eyes wide and slack jawed. You hadn’t given yourself time to prepare for being in a the same room as a fully unrestrained superbeing designed for killing.

Had he just been being nice to you for his own benefit, you’re thinking this would be the time for him to kill you.

Once he’s done working out his muscles, he steps over to you slowly, eyes not leaving you as his boots make their commanding presence known on the concrete.

“Oh, I-“ You cut yourself off, looking to the side as you take a few steps back. Your palms are out, and you’re thinking maybe you should have thought this through a bit more.

He says nothing, his glowing gaze boring into you as he closes the gap, leaving only inches between you two.

The nerves are apparent on your face as you stare up at him, having to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. He frame towered over you and his tentacles curled behind him alluringly. You flinched when the end of a tentacle came up to brush your cheek, leaving behind a small line of clear slick.

“Thank you.” He says, and for once you know what he means.

“Thank you.” You respond with a shaky voice, eyes flicking around his features nervously.

“Are you ready?” He says, nodding to your badge.

You’d forgotten he’s being hunted. Your unease of him is overtaken by the panic to save him.

“Yes, yes! We should hurry.” You say, starting a sprint for the door, but a tentacle loops firmly around your waist and lifts you up, your feet still searching for floor. Another tentacles comes underneath you like a swing, allowing you to place to weight on it. You can’t help but let out a few nervous squeaks as you’re adjusted in the air. Once you get your bearings you he puts you close to his back, letting your head sit next to his so you’re looking over his shoulder. You’re in a nest of slick tentacles, securing around you to keep you steady, and you’re reminded of the nightmares you’d experienced with a sea of tentacles swallowing you whole.

One appendage is offered to your injured wrist so you could rest it. He does all of this without looking at you, his focus on carrying your through the cell.

He stills and a tentacle reaches out, sucker up, and it takes you a moment to understand he’s asking for your badge. You give a nervous laugh when you realize, pulling it from your neck and ruffling your hair with the lanyard as you do. His tentacle curls around the badge and it disappears from your view.

You hear the grating alarm and the clunk of the lock. Two tentacles return instead of one, opening the lanyard of the badge to place it gently around your neck so you don’t have to. He simultaneously gets the door you struggled so much with opened with ease, and he’s careful as he gets both of you through the doorway.

“Which way?” He whispers through his harsh voice.

You point over his shoulder so he can see your arm from behind him. “That way, I need to grab my keys.”

As soon as he’s starts moving you realize why he didn’t let you run. He’s scarily fast, moving efficiently through the hallways as his tentacles allow him lengthier strides. You’re mesmerized by the way they shoot out, using the walls, floor, and ceiling to support himself as he moves. It’s like something from a horror movie, you think, and you can’t help imagine the fear a victim would feel being charged at like this.

“In here!” You point to the swinging doors of the lab. He’s got you smoothly inside, careful to make sure the doors don’t hit you on the recoil. His tentacles place you down gently, ensuring your feet are steady on the tile before removing his support.

You’re quick once on your feet, running to one of the undisturbed cabinets and shoving your stuff into your lab coat pockets with your good hand before dashing back to him.

“Okay, let’s go!”

But he doesn’t move, because some papers strewn on the lab table had caught his attention. He picks up a piece of paper with his hands and holds it up. The light shining through the page lets you see ink of a sketch you did of him during your obsessive research.

“Oh, that- yeah, that’s, uhm.” You purse your lips together and squint, trying to find an ending to the sentence you hastily started, “Hard to explain.”

He sets it down gently, using his hands to sift through a few more sketches of himself, anatomy labeled and fully detailed. Separate sketches of just the close details of his tentacles. Theories to what’s under his hood and his skeletal structure. His eyes scan over more pages and he find logs of your interactions, his diet, body language.

You laugh nervously, flush creeping up your neck as your eyes dart to the side.

“We should go.” You say, less urgent and more breathy than you meant it to.

He looks at you, glowing eyes piercing into you and you’re not sure how to decipher his stare.

He doesn’t say what he’s thinking, stacking the papers together and rolling them up in a way not to crease them. He tucks them into the waist band of his pants as he wordlessly returns you to your spot on his shoulder as he takes you from the lab.

“Which way?” He says once you’re both in the hallway, but a screams echoes from behind you, and you both whip around to look.

“Go, go, go!” Your hands frantically tap his shoulders to emphasize your words after meeting the horrified stare of a coworker, who had turned quickly on her heels to flee from you two.

He starts to sprint towards the person running from him and you tap his shoulders more forcefully, “No, the other way! Away from people!”

He gives a single nod, grunting in response as he turns on his heels and heads the opposite direction.

There were workers at the end of this hall, too. Three of them, and you can see your supervisor as he rips his attention away from the conversation he was having and turns to the mass in the corner of his eye.

He stumbled backwards, and the others turn to gawk too, screaming and fleeing from you both in a panic. You supervisor had froze, pressing his body against the wall as his shock and horror melds with confusion when he made eye contact with you, perched on Konig’s shoulder.

He shouts your name in panic, eyes searching frantically for aid.

As you Konig tentacles reach out to the halls to quickly pass him, you put one finger up on your good hand. “Don’t forget this!” You say cheerfully.

The dumbfounded and offended look on his face leaves you with an overjoyed smile as you turn back around to rest your arms back on Konig’s shoulder, lower half still supported by his tentacles.

“The stairs are through that door.” You say, leaning forward on his bare shoulder to point.

You both stop in your tracks at the sound of a blaring alarm, much more shrill than the one of his cell. It’s deafening, shrilling through the entire building. There’s bright emergency lights that reflect off the walls from the lockdown sirens.

He looks to you, and instead of yelling over the loud alarm you just point to the doors to the stairs and tap his shoulder frantically again, hoping your urgency translates.

It does, and he continues through the halls, tentacles clearing his strides and pushing open the door to the stairs. The alarm can still be heard, but you’re farther away from the speakers and it’s easier to hear the chorus of heavy footsteps echoing up the stairwell. You grip tightens on Konig’s shoulder, a nervous squeak escapes you.

You both lean over hand rail to see the commotion below, and you can make out flashes of tactical gear and weapons of dozens of soldiers moving in a group up the stairs.

Your eyes widen and you look to him nervously, unsure of your next move.

You really did not think this through.

It’s hard to tell with his hood, but he seems unnerved. He watches carefully over the stairs, and you’re tapping him quickly, silently pleading with him to keep moving to search for another way out.

A free tentacle reaches out to rest on your palm, leaving behind a slick and letting you know that he’s got this. You swallow and let your hand lay on his shoulder. You can’t help the way your fingers dig in to his firm shoulder.

The soldiers are close enough you can hear their voices below you. You screw your eyes shut, trying to search for your trust in Konig and hoping this hasn’t just turned into a suicide mission.

The soldiers are almost in your view when Konig’s tentacles moves you both to the gap in the middle of the stairwell that drops all the way to the ground floor. He’s got you both suspended in the air, his grip on you tight, with tentacles laced onto either side of the handrails of the floor you’re on.

He releases the rails he had held in his tentacles for support, letting you both free fall past the soldiers and down to the ground floor in a blur, catching you both with his tentacles against the bottom floor hand rails.

Expletives leave you without thought, and he turns his head to you to check on you as he exits the stairwell, now on the ground floor.

The alarm is defeating again, so you resort back to using the taps and points to direct him out of the building.

He freezes when the sun hits him, having to hold a tentacle up to shade his eyes.

Does he even remember the last time he saw the sun?

It takes him a moment to steady himself.

“My car’s over there!” You point once he’s steady.

You can hear yelling from the building behind you, the lockdown drill still blaring.

Once you’re at your car he sets you down, and you race to fling the driver door open, fingers fumbling as you start the engine.

He opts for the backseat, and you think it’s a bit odd before you consider the need for him to have room on both sides of him. He’s forced to hunch over in the middle seat, his head is pressed up against the ceiling. His tentacles had spread to the trunk, the front seats, pressed against the windows and coiled up on the seats next to him to get them all to fit. He’s blocking your view of the rear windshield window but you can make it work, you think.

You throw your car in reverse, using just the side mirrors to guide yourself out of your parking spot. You can see the building doors burst open, soldiers pouring from the building. One points to your car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You say, pressing on the gas, tires squealing as you exit the parking lot.

You hang a skidding right and shoot for twenty over the speed limit, but get slowed by traffic.

“C’mon…” You say to the car preventing you from speeding as you nervously eye your rear view, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. You drive with just one hand, your bandaged arm resting in your lap.

You get a glimpse of a familiar military vehicle in your sideview and you squeal, “OhfuckOhfuckOhfuck.”

The gas pedal slips out from under you and you slide your knees over to glance down in a panic before your eyes return to the road.

You weren’t going fast enough for Konig’s liking, apparently, because his tentacle had stole the pedal from you, pressing it to its full extend against the floor mats. The engine roars as it struggles to keep up, and you have to used your injured hand to steady the steering wheel as you swerve off the road to desperately navigate the other cars.

Your foot desperatly searches for the break, but another tentacle shoots out from your left, coiling around the metal that held the brake pedal and holds it firmly in place. You tried to push it down with all your might, but you were no match for his strength, as if you were trying to crack a boulder with just one foot.

He doesn’t let you use your arm for long, two tentacles coming in to take the steering wheel from you. Your engine is roaring and your eyes find the odometer, you’re going 40 over and climbing.

He coils a few tentacles around you and your seat for good measure, bracing your head and core in the event of a crash.

The expletives are falling from your lips without thought. You’re going well over 100mph now, never having gone this fast in your car before.

“Konig, slow down!”

He’s navigating with ease but too many close calls makes you screw your eyes shut to brace yourself.

He finally lets up once you two are out sight of the soldiers tailing you, letting off the pedal and offering you back control of the wheel.

It takes a few deep breaths and expletives before you take the wheel from him, leaning forward once his tentacles release you.

“Don’t!” Sharp inhale, “Ever do that again!” You say, heart pounding in your chest as you nervously eye the sideview mirrors for signs of trouble.

“I didn’t want them to catch us.” He says evenly. There’s a pause, and you catch each other’s eyes in the rearview mirror in between checks of the road.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” He says with a flick of his tentacle.

You take a few more deep breaths, wiping away the clear stick Konig had left behind on your forehead, “Well, we didn’t crash.” You’ve regained the wheel and find your groove going twenty over.

“I don’t know where to take us.”

“You don’t have a home?” He asks.

“I do, but they have my address in my employee files. It won’t take long for my place to be flooded with soldiers looking for you.” You say, briefly holding the wheel with your bandaged hand so you can put on your indicator to change lanes, sprained wrist returning to your lap.

Silence falls on you both mull it over. You keep driving, wanting to put as much distance between his capturers as possible.

The tentacle stretched in the passenger seat moves close to your bandages, “What happened?” He asks, voice low.

“Oh, uh,” You keep your eyes on the road. You had assumed he would have been aware of what he did to you. It made sense he didn’t realize it happened when it did, his attention elsewhere at the time.

You debate telling him in your head, but decide it’s best to be honest with him, “My wrist sprained when it hit the concrete. When I uh, tripped.”

You swallow hard, glancing at him in the rearview. He’s leaning forward between the two seats, his head close to yours.

“I did that to you?” He asks with a tense frame.

You look at him again briefly before your eyes find the road. “It happened so fast. Neither of us were thinking properly.”

He leans back in his seat, still having to hunch over to fit under the car’s roof. The tentacle outstretched to you retracts to the back seat with him.

Another silence falls over you both as he digests the new information.

“I’m sorry.” He says, voice strained, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You glance at him in the mirror again, his eyes are turned to his boots. “It’s okay.” You offer a weak smile, even if he can’t see it. “I would have done the same, remember?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he gives a slow shake of the head, and in between checks of the road you can see the fabric of his hood rippling with his movements.

You continue down the highway in silence, keeping your eyes on the stretch of road ahead of you. You drive until the sun sets, making stops for gas only when the station is empty, quickly filling your tank in fear someone will spot the ultimate creation of biowarfare resting in your back seat.

You see a sign for a motel and you decide you’ve covered enough ground today.

“Ready to stop? We can rest for the night here. Give you a chance to stretch out in privacy.”

He hums, but ignores the question, attention directed out the window and over the horizon, “I forgot how beautiful the sunset is.”

It catches you off guard, the sweet words whispered in awe from his intimidating frame.

Your eyes find the clouds reflecting the orange of the sun’s warmth. The bright colors gradually shift to the calm blue of dusk as the sky stretches on. Some of the brighter stars of the night sky are already making an appearance on the other end of the sky.

“It is beautiful tonight.” You say.

A small smile creeps on your features, finally feeling anything other than regret and worry about your impulsive decision to free him. Maybe the hasty ruining of your life and being forced to live on the run was all worth it, because now Konig gets to see the sunset again.

You pull into the parking lot of the motel, pulling out your wallet as you speak, “Stay out here and try to lay low. I’ll get us a room.”

You leave the engine running for him as you handle things at the front desk. The motel was as shady as it looked, not requiring your ID and accepting cash for payment.

Perfect. Untraceable, that’s what you needed. The man in the white stained undershirt doesn’t even give you a second look when he hands over the room key.

You turn your head both ways to scan the parking lot before preemptively unlocking the door to your room. You return to the car with an awkward jog, opening the driver side door to gather anything you’d need.

“We should be good. Just move quick.” You say, closing the driver door behind you.

You watch as he gets out, tentacles pouring out of the car one after another.

He doesn’t seem to be in as much of a rush as you, taking a moment to stretch out his back with a pop.

You’d gotten a head start to the motel room, but he still catches up before you reach the door, opening it for him so he can get all of his appendages inside. You nervously peek out to the parking lot one last time to make sure no one saw you two, closing and locking the door behind you before securing the blinds shut.

“Okay, we should be safe.” You say as you move to pull the sheets up on the mattresses to check for bed bugs.

The room is as dingy as you expected it to be. Peeling wallpaper stained with years of cigarette smoke. Outdated decor and furniture. Stained and faded carpets. An old box television perched on a dresser facing the two queen beds.

“No bugs.” You announce once you’ve thoroughly checked both mattresses. You look to Konig, who’s standing in the doorway of the tiny bathroom, eyeing up what you assume is the shower. You hear the water turn on in a spray against the shower’s porcelain followed by the sound of a belt jiggling.

Your brow quirks as you kick off your shoes and shed your lab coat, stretching your sore back as you settle in on one of the mattresses.

He starts a shower and you can’t help but picture him soaking his tentacles and sore body through the wall of the motel room. He left the door open, and some sinful part of you thinks about peeking.

You don’t, forcing your attention to the TV. You mindlessly flipped through channels with the remote, thoughts lingering on Konig showering. You settle on reruns of a lighthearted show.

You hear the shower turn off with a hearty thud of its noisy pipes. Some more time passes, and you can see flicks of corners of a white motel towel from the doorway.

The jingle of his belt makes an encore, and after a few more moments he reappears, turning the light off for the bathroom with a free tentacle. Another continues to works the towel, dabbing off stray water beads from his skin.

Your cheeks flush, and you catch his wet muscles flexing from the corner of your eye as he makes his way to the other mattress, laying down on his front with a relieved huff. His tentacles relax as well, draping themselves on the duvet and hanging off the sides, the ends lazily flicking and curling as they dangle.

You both sit silently for awhile, forcing your attention towards the TV set while you watch his tentacles curl alluringly in your peripherals. You’ve settled into your spots on your respective beds, trying to find some respite after such a stressful day.

He breaks the silence first.

“I will never forget your kindness.”

“Oh,” You start, heat still flushing your features but keeping your stare towards the television, “It’s nothing.”

“You sacrificed everything to save my life.” He says definitively, “Even after what I did to you.” His eyes linger on your bandages.

“It just seemed like the right thing to do.” You shrug, your eyes finally meeting his. “I was really only at that job for the paycheck.” You pause again, fingers fidgeting with the TV remote, “The guilt was starting to weigh on me anyway. Better to live honestly and on the run than settled-in but trapped, right?”

His glowing eyes stare into yours as he considers your words.

He nods slowly, tentacles twitching and curling.

You give him a cheeky smile and a point, “But no more killing people, okay? I’m responsible for your actions from here on out.”

He huffs in amusement, lifting up one tentacle in the air as if giving an oath, “I promise.”

He stirs suddenly, as if he had remembered something.

“I have something for you,” he says as he sits up, reaching into his pants pocket. You quirk your brow as he stands, closing the gap between your beds and as he presents his fist to you. He towers over you, even more so from your spot sitting slouched on the bed.

You look at him with intrigue, cupping your hand underneath his, “It’s not a bug, is it?”

He laughs, and it’s the first laugh you’ve heard from him aside from the wicked laugh from that first day you met him, the laugh that raised the hairs on your neck and haunted your dreams. This one’s different, softer and playful. It makes your chest warm and you can’t help the goofy smile you give in return.

“No, it’s not a bug.”

He lets the small item drop into your palm and your brows scrunch as you study it.

Your pearl!

You let out a quiet gasp, eyes darting to him once you understand. It must have slipped from your pockets when he had held you upside down during your altercation in his cell. You hadn’t even thought about it, didn’t realize that you had lost your precious pearl. You had been avoiding thinking about Konig up until you heard about his pending execution, and at that point you had bigger things to worry about.

You pick up the uneven pearl with two fingers, moving it in the light, “You had it all this time?”

“I’ve been keeping it safe for you. I was worried I’d never be able to return it to you.”

You purse your lips at the way you had left things. Leaving him without closure in that sterile cell, forcing him to sit with his unresolved feelings and thoughts without an explanation. Never knowing if you’d be back.

“I’m ashamed, at how I treated you. I thought I had ruined the one good thing I had in there.”

Your cheeks flush at his words and you wrap your fist around the pearl. You’re forced to break eye contact with him, hoping he can’t see the heat beneath your skin.

“I’m sorry I left you alone.” You say, eyeing the floor by his feet. “I just needed time.”

He considers your words carefully. “I can’t blame you for that.”

His eyes flick down to the hand that held the pearl and both of you bask in the silence for a moment.

“Maybe tomorrow we can get you a necklace for it, so it doesn’t get lost again.”

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, mouth parted and eyes wide. A tentacle brushes the apple of your cheek, and he looks at you like he had eyed the sunset, in awe and stunned with its beauty.

He had understood the significance of the pearl this whole time, and he returned it to you post-freedom, meaning there was no chance of him attempting to gain your trust for his benefit.

“Konig,” You whisper, voice breathy.

“Yes, meine perle?”

“Thank you.” You hold the pearl in a fist placed over your heart and keep your eyes fixed up at him.

His hand reaches down to your face, tracing a finger on the underside your jaw. Your breath hitches at the chill that shoots down your spine.

“I’ve been watching you.” He says, finger resting just under your chin, keeping your gaze on him. Your eyes flick nervously to his tentacles curling alluringly over his shoulder before returning to his stare.

You’re not sure what he means, but you’re too stunned by his words and the light touch of strong fingers, breath still hitched and heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

He pulls out the rolled up stack of papers he took from the lab and held close. All of the sketches and logs and theories you’d made during your obsessive research, “Looks like you’ve been watching me, too.”

He gestures to the papers in his hand before placing them on the nightstand to his side.

The tentacle that brushed your cheek moves to your hair, curling strands gently between the slick end of his appendage. Another gently takes the pearl from you, setting it down with the papers.

“Am I wrong, meine perle?”

Your jaw slacks open a little further as you stutter out the beginning of a few sentences, each quickly abandoned one after another.

You settle for a shake of your head accompanied by a full flush of your features.

He gives a hum of satisfaction as he leans down close enough that his hood almost brushes up against your skin. His glowing eyes are inches from yours.

“I want to repay you, meine perle.”

His thumb continue to soothingly stroke your jaw, His voice drops, soaked in a sultry tone as his gaze maps your features.

“You worked so hard for me. Went through so much, didn’t you? So good for me.”

You give a sharp inhale at the praise, a warmth suddenly pooling in your lower abdomen. You’re hypnotized by his large frame, his gentle touch, the inflection of his words. You can only stare up at him in anticipation, caught off guard by his change in demeanor.

A tentacle rests on your knee and begins to creep up your thigh. You try to look down but his hand under your chin keeps you steady.

“I want to make you feel so good, meine perle. Will you let me do that?” His voice dropped to a low whisper, and another tentacle creeps up behind you, making you flinch as it slithers down your shoulder and curls around your collarbones, “Will you let me reward your hard work?”

Your thighs spread obediently at the touch of his tentacle and Konig takes the opportunity to stand between your thighs, keeping them open. When you go to answer the only thing that comes out is a nervous squeak, so you opt for nodding your head.

The grip on your face tightens, a few of his fingers indent the soft flesh of your cheeks, “Ah, ah.” He gives a slight shake of his head. “You have to say it, meine perle.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice. “Yes, Konig.” You whisper through shallow breath, eyes wide as you look up at him. “Please.”

He gives another pleased hum, a tentacle eagerly coiling around your waist and picking you up from your spot on the edge of the bed.

A gasp leaves your parted lips, hands finding the slick coiled appendage at your center for leverage. Your socks scraped the duvet as he repositioned you to the middle of the bed.

Two tentacles work the button of your pants, a sharp inhale leaves you as they yank your zipper down and slide the waistband to your thighs. His eyes trace every inch of newly revealed skin as his tentacle placed you down on the bed, removing the appendage looped around your middle. By the time he gets your jeans off and discarded to the floor, two more tentacles have already begun sneaking up the hem of your shirt, slithering up your stomach and lifting your slick stained shirt with it. You obediently, albeit hesitantly, put your hands over your head to let him take your shirt and bra off in one swipe, ruffling your hair as he does.

You’ve got your upper half propped on your good arm, palm sunk in to the mattress. He corrects this by looping a tentacle around your good wrist, giving it a careful but firm yank as another presses to your sternum and guides your back flush with the mattress. Another simultaneously wraps around the forearm above your injured wrist, gently pinning it to the bed and forcing it to rest on the mattress above you. The two tentacles that removed your shirt trace down your exposed core and down each leg, giving you goosebumps behind the trail of slick they leave behind. The tentacles stop at your ankles, wrapping around them and up your calves like a snake coils its prey.

In quick movements your ankles are forced to in the air, extended and spread. He kneels onto the bed at your feet, positioning himself so he’s kneeling in the new space between your thighs.

He stills, tentacles holding you firmly but comfortably. You can feel his suckers against your bare flesh, each having their own independent wriggling grip on you. Your chest rises and falls, trying to swallow your nerves of being undressed and fully restrained at the hands of the powerful being you’d freed.

His eyes are tracing all of the newly exposed flesh, and you can’t help but squirm against his appendages as you fight the urge to cover yourself. He holds you steady, all your limbs extended as he takes his time committing the curves and dips of your delicate body to memory.

His eyes find your panties, already stained with arousal at the way he spoke to you, manhandled you.

“Such a delicate thing you are, meine perle.“ He says, eyes half-lidded as they admire you.

“You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against me, didn’t you little one?” His voice is low but gentle, and you’re stunned by his words, his forwardness. You can’t help but be intimidated pinned beneath him.

“You knew the risk you were taking. You knew I was deadly.”

One of his tentacles come up to gently smooth the hair he had disheveled when removing your shirt. You flinch at his touch, and he gives a pleased hum once he successfully fixes your hair.

“And yet you couldn’t help but throw yourself at me.” His eyes briefly widen before returning to their half-lidded boring stare, “Time and time again,” He shrugs in casual disbelief of you, “I’ve never seen anything like it, your carelessness.”

A free tentacle sneaks up your leg again, curling to stroke your spread inner thighs.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re self-destructive. Suicidal, even.”

The tentacle at your thigh creeps up, teasing the waist band of your underwear, and you suck in a breath through your teeth.

“But I do know better, though, don’t I?”

The tentacle lets your panties snap back to your hips, and the appendages holding you as restraints tighten on your limbs threateningly, excluding your injured arm.

His eyes narrow and his voice drips of arrogance.

“You’re just a little masochist.”

The tentacle drags down your front, teasing your slit over the fabric of your panties.

“Aren’t you meine perle?”

Your thoughts are clouded with a haze as you cling to his words, hypnotized by his chilling voice, domineering tone, and arousing touches.

He lets you get away with not responding this time, studying your responses to his teases before he continues. He gives another hum, a tentacle tracing down your neck and core, leaving behind a cool trail of his slick.

The tentacles tracing your cunt curls around your waistband again, while the two appendages securing your ankles maneuver your legs as they slide your panties down.

“Do you like that I have so much power over you?”

He has to unravel the appendages on your ankles to remove your underwear, discarding them over his shoulder. The cool breeze on your dripping cunt makes you shiver, tensing your core and arms in his restraint.

“That I’m a predator and you’re just a sweet defenseless little thing?”

His tentacles quickly rewrap around your ankles, but this time he secures the thick middles around you, covering the tops of your feet in his slick suckers as he forces your legs spread. His tentacles slither all the way up your legs from foot to upper thigh like thick black vines, and he leaves the ends of his tentacles with extra slack so the tips can tease the lips of your dripping cunt.

“Does the danger turn you on, meine perle?”

He gives a hum as he eyes your exposed and spread cunt, thoroughly slicked with your own arousal.

“I can see it does.”

You flush under his stare, still mesmerized by his words and the heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

He leans forward, his hands finding the mattress on either side of your core. You shrink under him as he leans down. He presses the front of his pants against your cunt, spread open by the tentacles looped around your legs.

“You were afraid of me.” He says, and you let out a broken sigh as he grazes your clit, your hips giving small involuntary grinds against him, “Yet you still gave yourself to me, so willingly.”

He hovers his face inches from yours, glowing eyes reflecting off your wide eyes. His voice drops low, and the hem of his hood drags across the curve of your breasts. The smaller tentacles that pour from under his hood curl around your tits, and you flinch under his touch when the ends of slick appendages start to tease your nipples to attention.

“I think someone that brave deserves to be thoroughly rewarded.”

He keeps his face close to you, leaving the equivalent of kisses through his hood down your middle as his smaller tentacles trace your skin.

He kisses all the way down to your cunt, spread open by the larger appendages coiled around your legs. You lift your head to watch him, and he keeps his half-lidded stare on you as the tip of a smaller tentacle swirls slowly around your clit. Another traces your dripping entrance.

A breathy sigh leaves you, your thighs tensing under his tentacles, but he holds firm.

“I am curious,” He starts, eyes locked on yours as he lays his chest flush to the mattress between your wrapped legs. He props himself up on his elbows, and brings a hand up to his hood to slowly pull it up halfway. His smaller tentacles part like curtains to reveal his mouth, and your eyes widen at the sight.

Your dreams had been scarily accurate, a taunting smile made up of rows of predator teeth. Razor sharp and killer. Concern and awe melded on your features, eyebrows pinched and eyes wide.

“Are you still afraid?”

He sticks out his tongue, and your face twitches as you watch it extend unnervingly far from his pointed teeth. The length and curl reminded you of another tentacle, but made of the flesh of tongue.

He dives his tongue up the slit of your cunt, a long deep stripe from hole to clit.

You let out a pathetic whine, your thighs begging to clench around him but tentacles forcing you spread. He hums, tongue sending the vibration straight to your pulsing clit.

He starts slow, tracing circles around you with his precise tongue.

Your hips grind into the pleasure, and he huffs in amusement at your eagerness. He lets his tongue unfurl, completely smothering your cunt with his slick tongue. He loosens his grip on your thighs just enough to allow you to get a better range to thrust into his face.

You give another whine when he stops teasing you, but continue to grind your clit against him in a desperate search for pleasure.

You give him a pleading look, mouth slightly parted for breathy exhales. He lets you grind long enough to embarrass you, waiting for the telling flush of your cheeks.

He finally pulls away with a long swipe along your cunt as you let out a sinful moan. The tip of his tongue returns to your aching clit, flicking side to side. He starts teasingly slow but hungrily picks up once he hears the hitched breaths you take.

You have to lay your head back to the mattress, closing your eyes as you give in to the pleasure.

He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit head on, pushing his tongue forward and letting it slither down your cunt. It curls around like a ribbon, the wide part of his tongue rolling down your clit as the tip curls back to your entrance, rimming your dripping hole. He teases you for a few moments before diving the tip of his tongue into your warmth, keeping the middle of his tongue pressed against your clit.

You let out a gasp as he enters you, and he gives a low pleased hum into your dripping cunt in return. His tongue slithers further into your warmth, the thick of his tongue continuing to graze your clit.

You start to grind down on him again but the tentacles around your legs climb further up your thighs, securing your hips as the ends continue spreading your cunt open for him. You give a whine, and he complies by pushing his tongue in and out of you, fucking you while stimulating your clit.

Your toes curl under his suckers and the moans are falling from your lips without thought as he tastes you.

When you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, cheeks flushed and breaths shallow, he’s eyeing you the same way he had eyed the meals you brought him. Free tentacles twitch in excitement as his hungry gaze follows his prey.

The corners of his mouth curl into a smile as he quickens the movement of his tongue, causing you to pull against the tentacles restraining your limbs, desperate moans leaving your parted lips.

He retracts his tongue, an arrogant laugh leaving him as he leaves your dripping cunt rutting into the air.

He licks another deep stripe against your entire cunt one more time, letting his nose swipe against your slit as he drags up. His eyes roll once he retracts his tongue again, a sinful moan leaving him.

“You taste so sweet, meine perle.”

You let out a whimper, rutting your hips in desperation at the sudden lack of touch. He gives another pleased hum as he sits up on the bed, eyeing you from above.

A free tentacle creeps between the mattress and your middle, and when you obediently arch your back he coils an additional appendage around your waist. He hauls you into the air with ease, the four tentacles on your limbs still spreading and supporting you. The tentacle on your injured hand, still less taut than his restraints, slithers up further to keep your wrist in-line with the rest of your arm in absence of the support of the mattress.

He puts you above his head, cunt resting just above his head. He tilts his neck back before burying his tongue back into your cunt while keeping you in the air above him.

A squeak leaves you as you tense against him, unnerved by the sensation of being suspended in the air. Your worry melts to pleasure as he fucks his tongue into you, his tentacle restraints bouncing you up and down in rhythm with his slick tongue.

The jostling and the tentacle coiled firmly around your ribs allows the moans and squeaks to leave you with ease, and he hums in satisfaction at the cute little noises you’re making for him.

He retracts his tongue again, letting his hood drop, and you look to him with pinched brows - as if offended he revoked your pleasure.

“I could eat this cunt everyday and not get tired of it.” He says, and even though you can’t see his mouth you can tell he’s wearing a cocky grin.

You let out a pathetic little whine, giving a weak tug against his restraint.

“Don’t worry,” He says, almost mockingly, before you feel a thick tentacle slither up to tease your cunt, a relieved whimper escaping you.

He uses his thick appendage to swirl around in the slippery mixture of your own arousal, his slick, and spit. He uses the smooth side of his tentacle, curling it against your slit as he moves your restraints, forcing you to grind your dripping cunt on his tentacle. Two more free tentacles slither up your chest, cupping your tits and teasing your nipples with the ends of his slick appendages. He continues grinding you against him as he lays the two tentacles over your tits, a sucker on each covering your nipple and applying suction. The stimulation makes you gasp and pull against his restraints, overwhelmed with him sucking both your nipples and forcing your clit to grind on his thick appendage at the same time. Your squeaky and broken moans echo throughout the motel room.

“I’m just getting started with you.” He says, low and dangerous, “Make sure to save some of those pathetic whines.”

The thick tentacle swirling your cunt teases your entrance before impatiently slipping into you.

You let out a pornographic moan as he plunges into you. You’re sure it was loud enough for the neighboring rooms to hear but being filled up by Konig’s tentacle felt too incredible for you to care. His slick tentacle was thicker than anything a human could offer, and his suckers allowed for a ribbed sensation as he fucked his appendage in and on of you. His dexterity allowed him to find your g-spot with ease, the end of his tentacle massaging it as he fucks in and out of you.

Your eyes close at the overwhelming pleasure, weak and limp as he puppets you up and down on his tentacle.

He’s using all of his tentacles on you now, and you’re helpless to stop him as he removes the appendage that secured your waist and coiled it around your neck, close enough to graze your flesh but not yet applying pressure. Your eyes open at the touch, half-lidded in pleasure as you find his glowing stare. Even through the overwhelming stimulation, it’s an unnerving feeling having him wrap around your neck, reminding you of his power. He could end your life, easily, and there would be nothing you could do to stop him.

He slithers further around your neck, and you can help but shiver under his threatening touch. He sees your brows pinch in worry and his eyes squint. While his hood obscures his mouth you’re guessing it’s twisted into a smile, as if he knows what you’re thinking and had planted the idea on purpose, reigniting your fears before you get too lost in the pleasure.

There’s a sinful glint in his eye, “Do you trust me, meine perle?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, his tentacle tightens around your neck, cutting off your moans with a harsh gasp.

Your eyes widen in fear, your fingers scratching the air instinctively as you wiggle in his grasp.

The tentacle fucking your tight cunt doesn’t let up. You’re left with your mouth open as you ride him, the moans that would be coming out silenced by his tight grip on your airway. The lack of oxygen allows a fuzzy haze to cloud your brain, and suddenly you’re not even thinking about the danger or the tentacles restraining and choking you. All you can think about is the sensation of your cunt being teased and fucked as your nipples are milked by his suckers. You let your body go limp in his grasp, no longer anxious for release. You’re still looking at him, but he’s getting farther and farther away, your vision blurring his bold silhouette.

He waits for your eyelids to unevenly flutter shut before he loosens his grip, keeping his tentacle looped around your neck like a scarf.

Your first sharp inhale is involuntary, followed by desperate sharp gasps for air. He continues pounding your cunt, his tentacle diving further into you, stretching you open as you return from your haze.

His smug snicker progresses to a deep hum of satisfaction.

He gives no warning before he cuts off your air again, watching as you fight against his restraints while managing the overstimulating pleasure.

“I like watching you struggle, meine perle.”

He takes a moment to look you over, watching you tense and feebly wriggle against his strong grip. He soaks in the look of concern and arousal on your features. You fade away quicker this time, eyes going cross as you zero in on the tentacle fucking your soaked cunt, suckers clinging to your walls as he massages your g-spot.

“I’d feel bad about it, but I know you like it too.”

He releases his grip on your neck, tentacle unfurling and leaving behind a necklace of clear slick and imprints of his suckers. You’re sputtering and coughing as he allows you breath, struggling to steady yourself as you’re bounced up and down on his thick tentacle.

Once you catch your breath you’re giving him breathy moans again, tensing beneath the tentacles on your limbs.

“Look how aroused you get when I threaten your life. This tight little cunt is so wet.”

One of the smaller tentacles that extends from under his hood runs circles on your pulsing clit. The tentacle that had retracted from your neck traces a line down your spine, stopping to rim your ass.

Your eyes widen at him as he slicks up the entrance of your hole. You’re nervous about anal, but you don’t find your voice to stop him. He slips a slick tip in, allowing you time to relaxing on just a few inches as he continues working the rest of you.

You were right about him being good at multitasking. It’s a lot to handle a once, your clit being teased, cunt pounded, nipples being sucked, and ass being stretched around the end of his appendage, all while being restrained and unable to relieve the tension building inside your body.

You’re lost to the stimulation, moans and expletives and sweet nothings pouring from your mouth in jumbles.

Konig’s enjoying the show, reveling that he’s made you come undone under his power. The mess he was making over you, covering you in his slick and getting you drunk off his touch.

A white heat steadily builds underneath your skin, pooling to your lower abdomen.

“Konig! It’s too much- it’s too much I’m gonna -"

“Come for me meine perle.”

The waves of pleasure rip through you, convulsing in his grip as you come. Konig doesn’t let up as he fucks you through orgasm. Mercilessly pounding your cunt with his thick tentacle while you clench at the intense euphoria.

“There you go, so good for me.”

You let out a strangled moan, hands searching for something to grab onto for stability but they come up empty, straining against his restraints while powerless to the pleasure.

“Konig - please.” You manage out between your broken moans and meaningless stuttering.

He gives another low hum of approval and he still doesn’t let up, the tentacles still working all your sensitivities.

“Not done with you yet, meine perle.” He warns, and you let out a whine in response.

You’re quivering in his touch now, futilely arching away from him, your pleasure turning to over-sensitivity.

“‘s too much.” You mutter out, shaking in his grip and too weak to escape his touch.

“I know, but you’re going to take it for me, aren’t you meine perle?”

You let out another whine in response, twitching at the stimulation that was turning nearly painful.

He offers some relief by removing the smaller tentacle from your clit, but he keeps the rhythm of both tentacles inside you, filling you up and forcing you to bounce on him. He continues teasing your nipples with his suckers, enjoying watching your back arch desperately as you squirm under the sensitivity.

You keep his gaze, teeth still grit at the overstimulation, eyes pleading.

He removes the tentacle from your cunt as he holds you steady, no longer bouncing you but still teasing your ass as he undoes his belt. He pulls it free with one firm tug, discarding it with the rest of your clothes.

His hands ease his zipper down and he takes his time, amused by your expression seeped in curiosity, desperation, and awe. He inches his pants down enough to expose his genitalia.

A fleshy appendage, a few inches longer than what a standard human male would have, springs to attention from the waistband of his clothes. The entire appendage was a uniform deep pink with no head. The shape reminded you of another tentacle, larger at the base and ending in a slick tip. Slight indents that ran up the sides of his shaft.

He lets you admire him for a few moments before he lines your used cunt with his appendage, plunging into you without mercy.

You let out a loud moan at being filled again, and he rock his hips, letting his appendage grind in you as you sit on his full length.

“Shh,” he whispers teasingly, “Don’t want anyone finding out how much of a desperate slut you are for me, hm?”

He brings the tentacle that had occupied your cunt up to your lips, and you obediently open your mouth to let his tentacle slip in, silencing you as you suck on the end, tasting the mixture of your arousal and his slick.

Your moans and whines are muffled by his tentacle as he pounds into you, his restraints moving you up and down in rhythm with his hips, meeting your hips in the middle as he fills you up.

He lets out a low growl that shoots a tingle of excitement down your spine.

“This pussy feels even better than I thought. So fucking tight, meine perle.” His pace quickens, now pounding ruthlessly into your soaked cunt.

His hands find your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as he guides you on his appendage. The tentacles supporting you allow you to lift almost all the way off him before forcing you down his entire length over and over again.

The moans are pouring from you again, but gagged by the appendage fucking your mouth - slick, arousal, and spit dripping down your chin.

When he pulls his appendage away from your cunt, the rest of thick tentacles still work your ass and nipples as he works to flip you over. He forces you into an all-fours position in front of him, letting you rest your forearms and knees on the duvet, his restraints staying firm on your limbs as he bends them into position as if you’re his doll.

You obediently arch your back and lower you head down on the mattress, sticking your ass into the air. He can see you spread open from behind, and he watches the tentacle work your tight little ass as he shifts to his knees behind you.

He gives you a firm smack on the ass with his hand, huffing in amusement at your shocked gasp around his tentacle gag. He gives you a few more, alternating cheeks as the sound of flesh on flesh echoes throughout the motel room.

He hums in amusement at the squeaks that come from your gagged mouth.

“Such a naughty perle,” He teases in his arrogant tone, “Always putting yourself in danger, hm?”

You whine, fingers clawing at the duvet as you brace yourself, flushing at the idea someone might hear your punishment.

He stops not long after, leaving behind his handprints on your flushed cheeks. He’s getting impatient, so when he lines his appendage back up with you he slides in without warning, hands finding your hips for grip as he slides in and out of you.

He’s too excited, he can’t refrain from letting his hips flush with your pink sore ass.

The tip of his appendage curls forward inside of you, massaging your g-spot as he fills you.

He doesn’t let up, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips and all of the tentacles working you. Your tits groped, nipples sucked by his tentacles, mouth and both holes filled and fucked - it’s overwhelming enough to make you go limp in his hold, not a single thought occupying you as you mindlessly work your tongue around the tentacle gagging your mouth. You’re too focused on the pleasure, how good it feels to be at his mercy.

“Watching you got me so excited, meine perle.” He says though heavy breaths, his grip tightening on your hips, “I’m already getting close.”

His thrusts get more intense, and you think you’d be yelling if you hadn’t been gagged. You probably wouldn’t have been able to warn him about your second finish even if you hadn’t been silenced, too cockdrunk off the overstimulation to properly string together a coherent sentence.

Your cunt clenches around him as another orgasm rips through you, causing your muscles to tense in his restraint.

He lets out a hearty moan, his thrusts becoming slightly uneven as he struggles to keep his composure in your tight walls.

He comes everywhere, his finish not only marking his claim deep in your cunt, but also from each of his tentacles, tips releasing his come into your ass and mouth while coating your tits and spread cunt.

He twitches inside you throughout his finish, fingers digging into your hips as he gives a few light thrusts, milking every drop of his finish into your filled cunt.

You’re still limp when he finally pulls away with a strained moan, his tentacles placing you down gentle on the mattress. You’re on cloud nine, too high from your finishes to be able to support yourself. You let the mattress support you, basking in the warmth of the afterglow, bliss settling over you as you recover.

He gives another hum of satisfaction at the sight, having completely unraveled you and marked you with his seed. He leans down to plant a kiss through his hood on your back, his hands giving a light squeeze on your hips as he props himself up next to you. He runs his fingers up and down your back, swirling through the clear slick his tentacles had left behind.

He lets you rest for a few moments, waiting for your breathing to settle before a tentacle gently drapes across you.

“How about we get you cleaned up, meine perle?”

You let out a dazed hum of approval, letting his tentacles coil around you to carry you to the shower. He presses you to his chest, your head resting against him as he cradles your back and the crease of your knees.

When your eyes flutter open, and you meet his glowing stare, your face stretches into a warm sleepy smile. He unwraps your bandages carefully, and he doesn’t let you lift a finger once you’re both in the cramped bathroom, standing outside of the tub as he scrubs you down. You exchange little words, both of you still basking in the afterglow.

He takes his time wiping the slick and come off your skin, easing around the flushed marks his suckers had left behind on you.

It’s soothing - the warm water embracing you, and Konig smoothing a washcloth over your skin. Intimate, even, how he’s washing your upper arms as he holds your hand with his free hand, watching you while you relax into the water. He’s extra gentle with your injured wrist as he cleans you.

He’s in no hurry as he cleans your middle and legs, enjoying the glisten of the water on your plush breasts and thighs. He thumbs the bubbles on your skin under his soft grip.

He even washes your hair, his large hands massaging your scalp as he runs the suds through. He’s careful not to get soap in your eyes when he rinses the bubbles from your hair, using a tentacle to shield your forehead as he guides your head back under the stream of the shower, disregarding the water spraying all off the motel bathroom floor.

He’s being so careful with you, so sweet and soft, it was a jarring contrast to the Konig that had been ruthlessly pounding you moments before or the Konig you’d come to know trapped in his cell.

Once you were all clean, he shut off the showers with its noisy clunk of old pipes, he was quick to wrap one of the motel towels around your dripping body before he carried you back to the beds. When he stilled you meet his eyes, resting your hand on his chest.

“Guess we’ll have to share a bed.” He says in his cocky tone as you follow his gaze to the mattress, thoroughly soiled and stained from your session.

You roll your eyes at him, giving a soft tap on his chest in your disapproval of his corny flirting, but the smile on your face betrays any hope of hiding your enamor.

His eyes squint from under his hood with a smile, you assume, as he carries you to the bed with his strong arms.

It’s not easy for a being with tentacles shooting from his spine to cuddle. He wasn’t designed for cozy naps and soft embraces, but he does what he can. He presses against the pillows sitting up, at an angle to leave space between the headboard and his back for his tentacles to settle. He nestles you at his side, keeping your head on his chest as your arm rests against over his core. Your leg props up on his as you rest the side of your body on the mattress.

His arm wraps snuggly around your back, fingers making soft circles at your curve.

You’re already halfway to sleeps clutches when you mumble into his chest.

“Thank you, Konig.”

“Thank you, meine perle.”

———————————————————-

More by uhohdad:

HIS - A Stalker!Konig Fic

EXPERIMENTAL - Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology, and Reader sees something they’re not supposed to.

Original Works Masterlist

#konig #konig x reader #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig x you #you x konig #reader x konig #call of duty #mw2 #mwii #cod #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #könig #könig x reader #könig x you #uhohwriting #you x könig #reader x könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #x reader #fic #smut #octo!konig #octokonig #tentacles

[anethum-etcetera]

.

#i know im bad at video games but holy shit #i spend twenty fucking minutes waiting to play 2 turf war matches #to get matched both times against e liters and snipers #while my team is mainly closer range #lose both times #and get fucking spawn killed the whole second match because nobody is even paying attention to base or the fcking map #i got one kill on an asshole squidbagging and then get absolutely annihilated by the 2 others right next to him #its just like #i get that i suck and im not very good with my reaction times and i dont have a good grasp on strategy or pathing or whatever #but how am i supposed to get better or want to play when it takes forever to connect to a match that is completely one sided no matter what #maybe i should stop playing at 4am when im already exhausted #i am just so tired of feeling like this #angry at something that's supposed to be fun #i just want to feel happy #but that's not entirely splatoons fault #maybe im just always going to feel like this #thats night brain talking tho #dont trust night brain #its lying to you #fuck nintendo online servers fr tho #shit can suck my dick

[sunderwight]

Thinking about the weird camaraderie that exists between demons but not angels in GO.

Have we ever seen two angels who are actually friends? Or even friendly to one another? We have met angels with a capacity to be friendly in general, but I think the closest we've come to two angels actually getting along would be Gabriel making a point to laugh at Sandalphon's terrible "can't have a war without War" line in S1.

Most scenes between the angels actually seem to have an undercurrent of absolute hostility. Teeth-clenched teamwork. No wonder it took them so long to notice that Aziraphale wasn't on the same page as the rest of them! The rest of them are barely on the same page as one another, either! When Gabriel goes against the majority vote, no one bats an eye at demoting him and wiping his memory. Michael and Uriel immediately begin vying for his job. The only times we've seen angels team up is when they're working together to bully someone else, like when they're trying to intimidate Aziraphale in S1 or going to the aftermath of the bookshop raid in S2.

Saraqael's overall neutrality towards Muriel is the closest we get to two angels in Heaven getting along, and it's more a lack of hostility than any kind of friendliness. At least until Gabriel loses his memories and Muriel shows up to spy on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale decides to be kind to both of them.

Demons, on the other hand, actually seem to form alliances and even friendships among one another. Hastur and Ligur are awful, but Hastur seems genuinely distraught over Ligur's death, not just fearful of suffering the same fate. Shax and Furfur conspire together and even though the 1940's investigation into Crowley's fraternizing doesn't work out for Furfur, it's not due to any double-crossing on Shax's part. Unlike the angels, who stick almost exclusively to making threats until the Metatron decides to try dangling a carrot at the end of the season, demons actually offer rewards to other demons when trying to work together. Beelzebub offers Crowley a promotion if he can bring them Gabriel, Furfur offers to back Shax up politically if she goes for the Duke position opening, and Crowley successfully stalls Hastur in S1 by pretending everything was a test and he's going to be put in charge of a legion as a reward for passing. They're still not great at socializing, but they're significantly ahead of the angels.

Of course, it's a fact that demons are awful to one another (Eric's treatment is really bad, they throw that random demon into holy water just to test it, "it'd be a funny world if demons went around trusting one another", etc) but they still seem more capable of forming friendships than the angels do.

I think that's because Hell cramps and crowds everyone together to try and increase their suffering and hostility, whereas Heaven isolates angels to decrease the odds of questioning or rebellion. Hell's methods are unpleasant, but it still ends up putting demons together, and some of those demons inevitably forge alliances and make friendships. Because as Crowley and Beelzebub demonstrate, demons are still social creatures with the capacity for love and affection, even if it's strongly discouraged and buried under nine million layers of trauma and a cultural mandate against kindness.

Angels are the same, but isolation makes is harder to form connections than overcrowding. Muriel and Jimbriel are both so eager to make friends, but Muriel's spent the past millennia shut in an empty office, and Gabriel has been distanced from his peers both through his position and also through Heaven's culture of fear and surveillance. He only breaks away from it when he finds something that's stronger than "choosing sides" (stronger than the fear of being rejected by Heaven and Falling, in fact strong enough that Falling seems worth it if he gets to be with someone he loves). Both Muriel and Gabriel are only able to start forming connections when they're away from Heaven.

I just think it's interesting that demons, despite being supposedly devoid of love, have an advantage in forming relationships compared to angels. Angels are supposed to love, but have far fewer opportunities to actually do so. Demons aren't supposed to love, but they make connections anyway.

#good omens #ineffable bureaucracy #both angels and demons are suckers for a bit of kindness too #even if they pretend otherwise and even if there are exceptions to the rule #like yeah you're probably not gonna win over the likes of hastur or michael with a nicety #but according to word of god furfur would be highly susceptible to a kind word #and well we see how it is with muriel and jim #i think this is why shax also weirdly toes the line between getting crowley destroyed and being almost-friends with him #that's just how it works in hell when you don't actually despise somebody #you can't be nice to them but you're still also kind of helpful and non-hostile a lot #don't let it interfere with your goals but sure deliver their mail and get their help with your boiler issues why not #maggie took the wrong approach to confronting the demons #if she'd been nice instead of telling them off they wouldn't have known how to handle it i bet #they're USED to being mocked and yelled at #should have given them jim's tray of canapes and offered them tea and stuff #not that I expect anyone to intuit that under the circumstances just that it might have actually held them off a lot longer #bunch of demons sitting outside of a bookshop passing around a tray of tiny little dinners and listening to records playing from inside

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (1)

summary: reader couldn't stop having deaths in her life ever since the Supersoldier serum came into her life. no matter how hard she tried to stay sane, it seemed that life didn't want to give her a break. until, one afternoon, she learned that one of her old friends was alive… (you guys know im bad at summaries, but please give this one a chance)

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4.5k

warnings: angst, major character deaths, canon deaths¿?, bad words, english is not my first language! thoughts of revenge and death, this is like an introductory chapter, so the buckyxreader interaction is low, but it'll get better, i promise!

note: holy fuck guys. i just spent like five hours writing and editing this and i fucking love it. its been a while since ive been this proud of a work, im actually scare the emotion will disappear, but i really want to rejoice in this one. i wanted to write something a little different from my usuals, maybe a little common in the fanfiction world, but i started and i simply could not stop (or maybe just approach this bucky fic from another perspective). so this is the first part and i'll try with all my heart to keep this going because it was fucking insane, at least for me. i really hope you all like this as much as i do! feel free to leave any comment! thanks always for all the support!! see you next time <3

part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

When you went into the Supersoldier serum project with Steve, you thought you were going to change the world. Of course, at that time when technology was relatively new any invention felt like the beginning of a new era. That's how it was all sold to you and it was how you expected everything to turn out… Until you realized that it was all really a waste of effort and time.

They were just propaganda for war. Not to stop it, to promote it. To motivate it.

You tried, on several occasions, not to think too much about it. You tried to stay out of it as Steve sometimes asked you to, even though even he didn't want to, as Bucky asked you to when you lay on his shoulder to cry in the little time you had free between trips. It was a great burden of guilt and helplessness.

Until you and Steve, with the almost imposed help of Peggy and Howard, rescued Bucky from the evil hands of Johann Schmidt and his nefarious organization, HYDRA, that, unbeknownst to you, would haunt you for a long time to come. It was only after that, after spending several sleepless days on edge thinking about what might be happening to Bucky, that you and Steve were finally able to go out and contribute something. Destroy HYDRA and the Red Skull's plans.

Of course, you realized that not everything could go right when, the one mission you couldn't attend, Bucky didn't return. And then Steve didn't come back either.

“Do you think this will ever end?” you had asked Bucky the day before his last mission.

“Of course it will,” he had answered without hesitation, moonlight illuminating his clear eyes, squeezing your hand as if it was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. “And after that we can begin to live as it should be.”

But there was no after that, because you never recovered from losing him. From losing them both.

“Are you okay?” Peggy approached, in the middle of the afternoon when the sun was streaming through the stained glass windows of the church, illuminating the spot where Steve's empty coffin had been, because they didn't even find his body. They didn't even think there was any of it left.

You barely moved your head to acknowledge her presence, moving the prayer slip they had recited throughout the mass between your hands. Your eyes were crystallized, in tears that no longer even made the effort to flow, because you had already spent too many days and nights crying. Peggy had been on the other side of the church, sitting next to Howard while the priest spoke, because you had refused to be near them in those moments. You didn't want to be near them.

“As well as one can be,” you slurred, finding that it had been a long time since you'd last used your voice for anything other than cursing and crying disconsolately.

The people had already left, probably an hour or more ago. The empty coffin had already been brought out, all the flower arrangements had been picked up, and the priest was preparing for the evening mass. You knew you had to leave, you knew Peggy and Howard were there waiting for you, but you felt stuck at that moment. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want to get ahead, you didn't want that life if it had to be this cruel.

You heard Peggy's sigh, before she took a seat next to you, a short distance away, averting her gaze to look at Christ on the cross.

You didn't know if you were selfish to be so closed off to your friends at this moments, because they must be grieving as much as you were, but you didn't know how to deal with the future possibilities. Bucky and Steve, great men and soldiers, one even with enhanced abilities, had not been able to make it through the punishment of war. What if Peggy and Howard were the same? What if they too had the cruel fate of dying at the hands of injustice? Could you deal with that? With everyone gone?

Maybe you could open up to them a little more because if not, who else? Turning away from them was not going to ensure their survival in this hate-filled society. Maybe you could protect them, like you couldn't protect Steve and Bucky. Maybe you could make a difference, because you had the chance to.

“You know,” Peggy spoke again, rearranging herself on the bench and crossing her legs, “Steve always knew this was how it would end.”

Her wistful, mournful, fragile voice sent a shiver through your body. Peggy didn't consider herself someone to show herself vulnerable in front of others no matter how close they were, even in those things that hurt her the most, in those things that affected her personally and made her eyes water instantly, she always tended to shut down. And at that moment you didn't dare interrupt her because you knew it would probably be the only time she would talk about Steve in a long time.

“Sometimes we'd talk, between tour trips, and he would tell me that wasn't what he wanted to do, even when he had to convince you otherwise,” her clasped hands would occasionally squeeze between words, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He didn't know if he'd made the right decision.”

You could almost picture him, backstage at the foot of the stairs with that notebook he carried everywhere and wouldn't let go, Peggy at his side nostalgic, as helpless as the others. It reminded you of the times you'd had similar conversations with Bucky, desperate to find a purpose, a way through so much fog.

“The first time I saw him so sure of himself was when he asked us to help them look for Bucky,” she mumbled his name, as if trying not to scare you away by saying it too loudly. “Ever since then it seemed like he'd found that spark…”

“Until Bucky died,” you whispered, the words cutting through the cold and silence, Peggy shifting on the bench contritely.

“He lost something of himself from that day on, it wasn't hard to tell. The next time I heard him so sure after spending days lost, it was on that call from the plane.”

Peggy paused, raising her hand to cover her mouth as her voice faltered. You turned to look at her, wishing you could rip the pain from her soul and leave it in yours. She was trying to contain her emotions, breathing deeply, and in that moment you wondered what life might be like from now on, with the specter of grief following you around, waiting for the next time the dead knocked on your doors, unexpectedly, without allowing you to say goodbye.

“He had told me he wouldn't die in peace until he could get it all over with. And he took it all with him. And I hated him so much for it…” Peggy sobbed, her labored breathing standing out between words. She kept looking straight ahead at the stained glass windows, the expression on her face hard and scowling despite having tears rolling down her cheeks, as if she were trying to blame something for what had happened. Her reproachful eyes fixed on the Christ.

Her wails echoed through the walls of the church, the father on the dais sending them a look of sorrow. He had offered you water, thirty minutes after everyone at Steve's wake had left, when they kept walking, and you stood there.

Another empty casket.

“Ladies,” Howard's voice reached your ears amidst all the physical and emotional numbness. You could barely notice Peggy wiping under her eyes with the pocket square that was surely part of Howard's suit, as she took breaths to get up. “We should go now.”

You heard him walk, his slow, careful steps stopping just behind you. There, on his feet with his chest tight, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. He knew it was the most you would allow him at a time like this, deciding not to pass up the opportunity to let you know he was there. You sighed, feeling a heaviness take over your body as you stood up.

“Yeah, let's go.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Maybe too fast, maybe too slow, you weren't sure anymore.

Peggy continued to work at the Strategic Science Reserve for a couple of years, calling you from time to time to help her with some jobs. You kept a low profile, practically a fugitive from the state, while trying to live a halfway normal life in Europe. A lot of it thanks to Howard really.

Life had become a rather monotonous routine when you stopped getting so many calls from Peggy and Howard several years later. You knew they were fine, but not being able to return to the country filled you with anguish every day. And trying to lead a normal life became too complicated when you looked in the mirror and it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in that capsule of Dr. Erskine's with Steve.

Until Peggy called one day asking you to come back. She told you that it was safe, that there would be no state officials waiting for you at the airport, but even if that had been the situation, you wouldn't have hesitated for a second to buy the first plane ticket and fly to see them again. To Howard and Peggy, to melt into an embrace, longing for the lost years.

You had thought that contributing to the fight in World War II had earned you a ticket to at least be recognized in the military, but all you gained was the government with their mad scientists looking for you to try to recreate the Supersoldier serum. Peggy didn't want to risk you and Howard gave you no choice by giving you a plane ticket to Finland with your bags packed.

You wasted many years not being by their side, unable to keep the promise you had made them in your head to be close by to protect them, to watch over their safety.

But when you left the airport there was only Peggy, and maybe that should've told you everything.

Her hair already looked gray, the effects of gravity and time present on her face. You hated to think that you shouldn't have looked any different from the way she saw you last time when she waved you off at that same airport. Her warm gaze was the same, raising her arms with held back tears to encircle you in a big hug. She tried hard not to sob against your shoulder, you felt the choppy movement of her breath against your chest.

She looked so different and the same at the same time.

You walked to her car a moment later, her trying to carry your suitcase and you telling her you were perfectly fine carrying it on your own. Amidst a smile, she walked into the driver's door and you frowned as you saw the empty passenger seat.

“Where's Howard?” you spoke as you sat down, after stowing the huge suitcase in the trunk of the car. The way you moved to buckle up, you didn't notice the way Peggy froze in place, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her breath hitched from the effort.

“We're going to see him,” was all she said, but she was very good at hiding that something was wrong. Only for a little while.

During the trip, even though you tried to ask things about them, about what they had been doing during this time, you didn't miss the way her shoulders were tense or her eyes very alert. Something bad had happened and Peggy was trying to hide it from you.

When she pulled up in front of a church, you already knew what had happened without her answering a single one of your questions.

Howard had died.

You two had sat next to Howard's son Tony, his spitting image, in complete silence as the prayers went on. At that moment you didn't know what had happened, hoping it had been a quiet and peaceful death, because you didn't know if you would be able to endure another violent death.

Peggy gave you all the details when the mass was over, after the coffin was taken away, and you hadn't felt such fury in so many years. Not since the deaths of Bucky and Steve had that adrenaline rush of anger returned to run through your body as violently as it did at that moment, when Peggy told you that he had been murdered along with his wife. All to steal some prototypes of Dr. Erskine's serum. The damned serums with which everything had started.

This time there was a body in the coffin, but there was also a culprit. Someone to point the finger at and take it out on for years of anguish and pain.

You were at Peggy's house, staying for a few days, when she told you that wasn't all.

Peggy had a suspicion that HYDRA hadn't disappeared when Steve crashed that plane into the ice. Her suspicions generated panic in you, because Bucky and Steve had died for that, now apparently Howard, only for it all to have been for nothing. The feeling of carnage that ran through your whole head made you nauseous, years of helplessness and pain pent up in such a small body had to find its way out somehow.

“It was a man, according to the information I've been able to gather,” Peggy spoke, taking a seat across from you in the dining room of her living room, after pouring you a glass of lemonade. “He didn't die from the crash. He had a concussion. He was hit in the head. His wife died from asphyxiation.”

“Does Tony know?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head quickly, one hand over her heart as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. “It didn't even occur to me to tell him something like that.”

“And he was looking for the serum,” you recalled, a bitter feeling planted in the back of your throat, the memories of the disastrous times during the war coming back into your head like a blinding flash.

“He took them. We don't know who he is or who he works for, but whoever they are, they must have been following us for a long time to know about them.”

“You mean years,” you arched an eyebrow, your fingers touching the cool exterior of the glass seeking some reassurance.

“Possibly. That project isn't recent,” Peggy nodded, drinking her lemonade with a grimace. You stared at the liquid almost finished from her glass, a wrinkle forming between your brows with each passing second and you kept wondering why.

“But what the fuck was going through that asshole's head?” you spat angrily. Rage at already the amount of lives that serum had taken with it and at Howard's recklessness. Rage at the reaper who seemed to be following in their footsteps for some reason, rage at that damn man and whoever his damn boss was.

“It was the only option, Y/N,” Peggy turned her gaze, meeting your eyes with a strange glint.

“What do you mean?” you were almost afraid to ask, your friend's gaze suddenly turning evasive. You watched her run her fingernails over the glass of the tumbler, lost for a moment in thought. The way her shoulders slumped forward in defeat caused a pressure in your chest that made it hard to breathe. Peggy shouldn't be going through these things at this point in life.

“Howard was working with the Pentagon, as a contractor or something. They had found you. Howard felt cornered and they made him sign an agreement.”

With your incredulous look on her face, Peggy didn't dare look back at you for a few seconds. So much had happened since you had left and it seemed that you had only been told about the things you weren't going to care about so much. But if you had known that you wouldn't have cared much about giving some of the state officials their comeuppance. You would've liked Howard to trust you enough to tell you, not live in as much fear behind his back as the last few years must've been. You didn't like the way Peggy's lips curved downward, as if she, too, would've preferred to make another decision had she known this was how it was going to end.

“Howard assured them that he could recreate the serum, and told them he would as long as they left you alone.”

“Fucking asshole…” you closed your eyes, scrubbing your face with your hands. The rough skin of your hands rubbed against the delicate skin of your face, years of combat and mistreatment foreseeing a harshness that reminded you every day of what you'd had to go through to get to that moment.

“I only found out about it after it happened. I didn't see it for like a whole week,” Peggy shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening in the pain of the memories. You shook your head hard, a more violent reaction than you could have anticipated.

“That stupid… stupid asshole! What the fuck made him think I couldn't defend myself?”

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Peggy finally searched your eyes, meeting the red rims that told her you were holding back too hard breaking in front of her, only using that pain mixed with rage to keep you sane.

“And look how that turned out!”

Peggy stretched her hand across the table, with a pleading look asking you to lower your voice, averting her gaze to the hallway. You followed her gaze, for a second forgetting where you were, forgetting that her family was with you behind the doors where you were plunged into darkness. It was past midnight.

You took a second to calm yourself, trying to drown out the uncontrolled emotions and taking deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart.

“And if what you theorize is true…” you regretted the moment those words left your mouth; you didn't even want to finish the sentence.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don't want to,” you shook your head instantly, closing your eyes, the thought sounding illogical inside your head. Your hands on your chest trying to contain the storm of feelings that was making chaos inside your head. “That would mean that everything we did, everything Bucky, Steve and Howard did and sacrificed, was in vain. It will all have been in vain.”

You spent several weeks with that thought in your head, working hand in hand with Peggy, and the organization you barely knew as SHIELD, to track down the whereabouts of the killer of Tony's parents and the one responsible because the Supersoldier's serums were, surely, in the wrong hands.

And yes, it was many years of fruitless missions and dead ends, with you running every field mission and Peggy calling the shots from the New York facility. Every time you felt close to discovering something, it seemed that the enemy rejoiced in your failures and still couldn't understand how they were always three steps ahead.

However, you had to leave the missions when Peggy became ill.

The silent, lethal Alzheimer's.

During the first months in the hospital, she still recognized you. She also recognized her husband and children. But after the first year, she frowned every time her children walked through the door. After a year and a half, her husband had to remind her that they had been married for about forty years.

After two years, she was still only remembering you, Howard, Steve and Bucky. Her whole life during her time in the army was all you talked about, sometimes you would tell her how much more time had passed than she remembered and always, without fail, she would ask you how much you had done in Europe for so long by yourself.

She cried every time she remembered Howard's death. She cried every time she remembered her children. Out of her mouth came a thousand apologies that no one would accept, because there was nothing anyone could do to prevent what had to happen. You wished she had been a serum test subject instead of you.

For several years, missions to find Tony's parents killer were sporadic because you spent more time around Peggy than at the SHIELD facility. She was the only thing you had left of everything you'd ever had, of when you held the world in your hands. She was the last thing keeping you tethered to that reality, keeping madness from flooding your reason. How could you have so many years ahead of you when that was all you had to live for? A life full of the dead, full of pain and suffering. What kind of karma were you paying for?

You were leaving the SHIELD facility, after another failed mission, when Nick Fury stopped you in front of the exit. You almost rolled your eyes right under his watchful gaze, tired of having to meet him anywhere, and exhausted from his comments about this vengeance project or whatever he wanted you to be a part of.

You still didn't know how, being such an exemplary agent, Coulson had fallen into his nets.

“Miss L/N,” the man stopped you with his words, his hands behind his back and a tense stance that caught your attention.

“Fury,” you nodded in his direction, hoping he'd be quick because you were running late for your weekly visit with Peggy. “Do you need anything?”

“I'd like you to come with me somewhere,” Fury approached tentatively, his one eye fixed on your wary expression, which shifted to boredom the moment you thought you knew what he wanted.

“If this is about that project, I've told you a thousand times-”

“No,” he interrupted you, moving forward and removing his hands from behind his back. “It's not related to that. I really want you to come with me.”

“You look agitated, but I need-”

“I'll take you to see Peggy myself after this.”

You didn't like that he knew your routine, even though you weren't doing enough to hide it from the other agents. But Fury looked nervous, even though he was hiding it very well, trying to keep his cool as he looked for ways to convince you.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal for you to go off the deep end for once. After all, Peggy never remembered you were going to see her.

You set off in Fury's armored vans, not quite sure where you were going, but sure that it was urgent, because he had taken it upon himself to let his driver know that you had to get there as soon as possible.

You took that time on the trip to come up with a new strategy for the next mission because what you were doing up to that point wasn't working and you felt too close to throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking. You could spend years following a ghost, but you wouldn't give up on finding Howard and Maria's killer.

Before the car pulled up to one of SHIELD's secret sections, they passed the giant, imposing Stark Tower. You never saw Tony again after that time at his parents' funeral, not even during his visits to Peggy because you always made it a point not to cross him. You didn't think you'd be able to look him in the eye while you knew his parents had been killed without being able to tell him. You had promised Peggy in her lucid moments that you wouldn't tell him anything until you could find the culprit. You didn't want to initiate that pain if it had to be kept repressed, as yours once was, and probably still is. You had learned, some time after the funeral, that he was living with Edwin Jarvis, and you were glad to know that he would have good companionship to keep him company in such hard times.

Fury, a handful of agents and you entered the vans through the entrance to what appeared to be the parking lot of an old warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the number of armed agents that seemed to be guarding the place, not at all discreet to how SHIELD used to do things. You weren't sure if Peggy would authorize something like that, but you couldn't question the Director's decisions. It wasn't your place.

“What's going on here?” you frowned, watching as every meter there was another agent and another agent. You got out of the car without waiting for an answer from Fury, moving directly toward the entrance where most of the agents were concentrated. You barely noticed their looks in contradiction, running their eyes over you and then over the man trying to catch up to you, dubious as to whether or not they should move. “Move.”

“Wait,” Fury's voice stopped the command in the agents, who turned back to look at you as you sent Fury a confused look.

“What's all this mystery, Nicholas?” the man startled almost discreetly at your tone of voice, the agents stirring uncomfortably, but kept the serene expression that was getting on your nerves. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We got a call from the Arctic.”

“From the Arctic?”

You tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck instantly stood up, your body alerting you to something your mind still couldn't comprehend. You felt like a deer face to face with a predator, expecting the worst.

“The Colonel informed us of something that might interest us,” Fury's cryptic voice echoed in your ears, drowning out the flicker of uncertainty vibrating from your head to your toes. “They found a plane.”

You didn't even answer him. Your heart began to pound wildly, cornered, ready to have your head bitten off. The tension in your shoulders intensified, with the involuntary movement of your hands as you broke into a cold sweat. The mere implication of his words caused an emptiness in your stomach, a sense of longing and fear you hadn't felt before.

You looked at Fury, trying to find in his gaze the gleam of a lie, but there was nothing there but assurance. There was nothing but recognition and understanding in his gaze, but that didn't make the emptiness in your stomach and the tight chest go away. It didn't make the feeling of being outside your body go away.

You barely remembered to move in the direction of the door, the agents instantly moving out of your way, pushing it so hard that one of them flew out. You moved your eyes around every corner of the room, the cream-colored walls generating a great repulsion in you. And there, in the midst of all the confusion and the storm, a confused and disgruntled face looked back at you. A face you never thought you would see again.

Steve Rogers was standing a few feet away from you, barely comprehending what was happening around him and instantly recognizing you. Your chest compressed once again, the tears you held back for so many years even in your loneliness making their own way into your eyes, endangering to end that mask you wore everywhere you went.

Steve was actually there, looking back at you with his eyes shining in recognition. You didn't know if he was as surprised as you were to react or you looked so bad that he didn't know if he should approach you or not. You just knew it was him, it really was him right there in front of you. He wasn't dead. Steve wasn't dead. He was alive. Ah, he was so alive.

The broken sob that suddenly left you was loud enough to make your friend shed his stupefaction and stride over to where you were. You barely managed to cover your face, between sobs, wails and disbelief, feeling your knees give out, surrendering to the weight of the pain, when his strong arms grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor. Preventing your fall, as you had wished so many times before.

You cried against his shoulder, when feeling him against your body you knew there was no doubt it was true. You moved your hands away from your face, wrapping them around his waist as tightly and lovingly as you hadn't hugged anyone in so long. Surely the last time you hugged someone like that was when you saw Peggy on your way back from Europe.

Steve wasn't far behind, his arms around your shoulders just as tightly, his chin against the crown of your head, moving from side to side trying to hold back the loud sobs that shook your body.

You couldn't believe it, but it was true, he was right in front of you.

Steve was alive. He had come back to your side. You didn't even want to ask why.

And there was nothing else you could think about for the rest of your life.

#stxrvel talks #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky barnes angst #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier #steve rogers

[libraryofgage]

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three (you’re here!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse (also on the way and also a modern royalty au cuz I got the urge to write one so bad lmao)

This AU was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

I hope y'all enjoy this part! It was a lotta fun to write, actually, since I got to talk about folklore I'm more familiar with lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve huffs as he kicks a pebble down the street. It bounces a few times before settling on the sidewalk, doing nothing interesting enough to alleviate his boredom. He turns around, squinting against the sun shining in his eyes, and looks at his parents. His mother is speaking quietly to a woman with a shawl around her shoulders, both of them bent over some book that definitely should have been crumbling by now. His father idly taps at bricks on the building next to them, looking relaxed but alert.

Steve glances at the building his parents are avoiding, the one the woman with the shawl walked out of. It’s a pale, faded yellow, the kind that tells him the building is old, old enough to have seen wars and generations pass it by. Shingles line a low roof, but something that’s either incredibly durable wood or stone so old it’s turned brown makes up the vaguely mountain-shaped top that reaches to the sky. Steve studies the building, his eyes wandering until he sees the door cracked open on the side. 

He takes a slow step towards it, checks that neither of his parents noticed, and takes another. This continues until he’s in the shadow of the building, his fingers brushing against the wood. It’s cool against his skin, and the door isn’t nearly as heavy as it looks. He pushes lightly against it, an eager feeling building in the pit of his stomach as he slips inside.

A dimly lit hall made of stone sprawls out in front of him, and Steve hums softly as he passes by the paintings and scraps of scroll that are framed along the wall. He recognizes Hebrew on all the scrolls, but he doesn’t linger long enough to read any of it. Instead, he continues to walk, glancing through an opening that leads into a sanctuary. The opening is to the left of the bema, and he’s momentarily caught by the ark that contains the Torah. He can’t even see the holy scrolls, but something in his spine jerks and he’s overwhelmed by the urge to open the doors so he can gaze upon them. 

He’s already going to get in trouble for slipping inside, though. Maybe he shouldn’t make it worse. Steve grasps this thought tightly, holding it in his mind until he’s able to tear his gaze away and continue walking down the hall. Other than that opening, there’s only one door left at the very end. It, too, is made of wood and opens far easier than Steve expected.

Shafts of sunlight stream in through narrow windows, illuminating dust that floats in the still air of an undisturbed staircase. Steve looks down at the first steps, crouches, and drags his finger carefully over the stone. A layer of dust comes off, and Steve comes to the conclusion that nobody has been up these stairs in a long, long time. 

With a grin, Steve begins to climb. 

The stairs wind up and up, far higher than Steve thinks should be possible given the height of the building itself, but what does he know? He just focuses on climbing, on reaching the top as he passes narrow window after narrow window, breathing in stale air that stirs in his lungs and builds. Strangely enough, he’s not breathless from the climbing, but from something else entirely. He isn’t able to name that feeling until he finally (finally) reaches the top of the stairs. 

As he stands on the top step and looks over the loft spread out before him, he realizes it was anticipation. Like the stairs, this attic-loft is covered in dust, untouched by people for a very long time. A large window is opposite the stairs, allowing sunlight to stream into the area. The space holds a desk, a bed, more books than Steve has ever seen before, and a statue.

Steve stares at the statue, licks his lips nervously, and steps into the room. He doesn’t spare the books or anything else a second glance, instead making a beeline for the statue. It’s huge, towering over the twelve-years-old Steve even though it’s sitting. Its legs are crossed, and its hands are held palm-up just above its navel. The statue is round and smooth, not a straight edge in sight. It doesn’t have a neck, and its head is like a little bump on its shoulders, just big enough to hold triangle-shaped divots for eyes. Carefully placed next to the statue is a small clay jar and a paintbrush.

Without thinking, Steve picks up the jar and looks inside. Golden-hued paint shimmers inside, and Steve wonders how it hasn’t caked over or disintegrated after all this time. He tilts the clay pot a few times, watching the paint slide against the edges, and then looks up at the statue again. At second glance, he sees that the statue’s head is big enough for more than just its eyes. He could probably write on it, too. 

With that thought, Steve grabs the paintbrush and very carefully pokes his foot against the statue’s leg. It seems strong enough, so he climbs up, following the statue’s calf to its knee. From there, he carefully holds the paintbrush with his teeth so he can steady himself on the statue’s arm. Once he has, Steve pulls himself up onto the statue’s hands, finding himself at the perfect height to reach its forehead.

Steve holds the paintbrush and dips it into the jar. The brush comes out covered in the gold paint, and Steve pauses, looking at the statue’s forehead.

He remembers a story his mother once told him about this very city, this very building. It involved a statue like this one, a golem, that was brought to life to protect his mom’s ancestors. Steve hums softly and carefully paints aleph, mem, tav on the statue’s forehead. His mom will find it funny when he brings her up here to show her the “golem” he found. 

As he finishes off the tav, giving it a pretty little flourish just for the fun of it, the ground beneath him jerks. No, not the ground. The hands he’s standing on. Steve yelps, losing his balance and about to fall only to be cradled and carefully set on the ground.

Steve blinks, looking up at the golem to see it leaning down and staring at him expectantly. “Uh. Hi,” he says, breathless as he receives a small nod and wave in return. “Holy shit.”

Before he can say more, he hears a familiar voice in the distance shouting, “Steve! Where are you?”

Keeping his eyes on the golem, Steve sets the jar and paint down, scooting back along the floor until he reaches the top of the stairs. “I’m up here!” he shouts, hearing a muffled curse and the slam of a door far below. He sighs and stands, slowly approaching the golem.

“You’re really real,” he mumbles, stopping in front of the golem as he hears someone running up the steps.

He turns just in time to see his father reach the attic, guns at the ready, and panting from adrenaline and the climb. “What the fuck is that?!” he shouts, aiming the guns at the golem without thinking. 

“Don’t shoot it!” Steve yells, barely getting the words out before he’s scooped into the golem’s arms and completely covered by its hands. The world goes dark, and he’s pressed close enough to the golem’s chest that all he can smell is pomegranate and the old ink and paper of Talmud studies. 

“It’s holding you captive, and you’re telling me not to shoot it?!” his father asks. 

“It’s protecting him!” his mother shouts, her voice shrill and panicked enough about his father shooting a golem to make Steve almost laugh.

Steve wiggles around, tapping the golem’s chest. “Those are my parents,” he says, “Please let me down.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, the golem does, carefully and slowly placing Steve on his feet once more. Its hands stay on either side of him, looking ready to pull him back into its protective embrace. His father looks harried, but his mother looks awed as she steps forward. The golem allows her to approach, and she carefully runs her fingers over the golem’s arms. “This is amazing, Steve,” she says softly.

“Can we please step away from the dangerous statue now?” his father asks, taking a step forward only to stop when the golem suddenly stands and towers over him. “Uh, what’s it doing?”

“You’re not Jewish, Rick,” Steve’s mother says, looking over her shoulder. “The golem is a protective figure in Jewish folklore, among other things. It’s most famous stories are about keeping Jewish towns safe from pogroms. It’s wary of you.”

“I’m your husband!” Steve’s father protests, angrily shoving his guns back into their holsters, “And Steve’s father! We should be on the same team!”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, walking over to his father and taking his hand. “I just have to introduce you.” With that, Steve leads his father over to the golem, placing his father’s hand on its arm, and saying, “This is someone you should protect, too.”

----------

After explaining everything, with plenty of interruptions from the kids after they came running back into the living room to escape Uncle Jonathan’s gin, Steve’s parents demanded to see the lab where it all started. 

And now they’re here, standing in one of the lower levels, surrounded by dead vines that still haunt Steve’s nightmares on particularly bad nights. If he’s lucky, he won’t have one of those while his parents are home, but Steve has never really called himself lucky in situations that don’t involve life or death. 

The wall that once held a gate to the Upside Down is nothing more than charred cement, reduced to a jagged line of something Steve really hopes is soot and not, like, disintegrated demogorgon. He carefully makes his way through the vines, avoiding them when he can and holding his breath whenever he has to step on one. 

“Did you know this was a lab?” Rick asks, his voice echoing in the hall ahead of them. 

“Of course, not,” Evelyn replies, and Steve can picture the glare she’s aiming at him. “I wouldn’t have let our son live here if I’d known.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I, for one, and very relieved Stevie lived here considering several of us would be dead without him.”

“Me, too,” Dustin says.

“Me three,” El says.

“I think Steve and I would’ve found each other even if he wasn’t in Hawkins,” Robin says, nudging Steve’s ribs with her elbow as she grins. “Platonic soulmates can’t he kept apart.”

Steve snorts and stops when he reaches the wall. He looks around and notices the corpse of a demodog a few feet away. Or, well, he thinks it’s a demodog corpse. “Stay here,” he says, tightening his grip on his bat as he takes a step closer to it.

“Hold it right there, young man,” his mother says, her tone bringing him to an immediate halt. “Your father will go towards the monster, and you will stay a safe distance away.”

“Gee, thanks for asking,” Rick mutters, rolling his shoulders as he makes his way over to the demodog corpse. He studies it for a second before just kicking the thing with his foot. Steve nearly jumps in to yank his father back, but stays frozen in place by Robin’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

His father kicks the corpse again, and Eddie suddenly asks, “Why do I feel like this is disrespectful?”

“Because it used to be alive,” El offers.

“It’s definitely not anymore,” Rick says, crouching down and using the barrel of his gun to push back one of the petals on its head. “Shit, what’s it need so many teeth for?”

“The better to eat you with,” Steve says, earning a snort from Robin and Eddie.

“And there were how many of these?” Evelyn asks.

“Dozens. Like, multiple packs, and they were all connected by this hive mind kinda thing,” Dustin explains, walking over to the corpse with no fear. “I mean, they weren’t all bad. Dart was okay.”

“He ate your cat,” Steve says.

“Yeah, and then he didn’t eat us in the tunnel.”

“I can’t believe you were facing these things and didn’t use your guns to spare some girl’s feelings,” Rick says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just use the golem,” his mother says, frowning as she turns to Steve. “I mean, you know where it is, dear. You know how to bring it to life.”

“A golem? Like…from Lord of the Rings?” Dustin asks.

“You had a golem? Why didn’t you tell me you had a golem?” Eddie asks.

“How did we not think of the golem? Holy shit, we’re dumb,” Robin says, smacking her forehead with her palm.

“I couldn’t trust that it wouldn’t hurt one of my friends,” Steve says, ignoring Dustin for now. “It would only protect me and Robin. If something happened to one of us, it would abandon the kids without question. What’s the point then?”

“Hello! Confused people over here!” Dustin shouts, getting their attention. “What golem?”

“You know,” Robin says, “like…of Prague.”

“No, still lost,” Dustin says.

Steve sighs, about to explain it when Eddie beats him to it. “The golem is from Jewish folklore,” he says, tilting his head as he looks at Steve, “It was created and brought to life by a rabbi in Prague to protect his congregation from pogroms and acts of antisemitism. There are debates on why he had to disintegrate the golem, though. Some stories say it started killing innocent people, others say it fell in love, and others say the congregation were using it to do chores instead of letting it focus on protecting them.”

“Yes, exactly,” Evelyn says, smiling at Eddie and nodding with approval, “The golem doesn’t speak much, but it can answer basic questions. According to it, Rabbi Loew removed its aleph because it requested to go to sleep.”

“Oh, so it just wanted a nap,” El says, nodding as though this makes perfect sense to her.

“You said you had the golem,” Eddie says. “Where?”

“At the house,” Steve replies, watching as his father stands from the corpse and drags Dustin away from it. “I keep it in the locked room downstairs.”

“You said that was your parents’ room,” Dustin says.

“No, you assumed it was, and I never corrected you.”

“Can I see it?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie’s gaze. After a few seconds, he nods once and looks at his parents. “Did you see what you wanted?” he asks, “Can we head back?”

“Yeah,” Rick says, frowning as he nudges a vine with his foot. “I’ll come back later with Ardeth. See if he knows anything that might help.”

“What do we need help with?” Dustin asks. “The portal is closed for good. We closed it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with making sure,” Evelyn tells him, smiling reassuringly before turning back the way they came. “Now that Rick and I are here, we’ll do everything we can to make sure those gates never open again.”

“And if they do,” Rick says, bringing up the rear as the kids follow Evelyn, “we’ll take care of it. You kids don’t need to put yourselves in danger anymore.”

Something in Steve settles at hearing this, his next exhale taking all the stress that had made its home between his shoulders with it. For the first time in a long time, he thinks about something normal. He glances at Eddie and Robin and thinks about going to see a movie with them, drinking at the lake, and just being stupid teens that don’t have to worry about interdimensional monsters.

------

Tag List (there should be room still! So, if you’d like a tag, let me know!)

@trueghostqueen, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @mogami13, @blcksh33p1987, @beawritingbooks, @remus-is-trans, @your-confused-friend, @estrellami-1, @nburkhardt, @vacantwatchers, @yeahhhh-suga, @phantomcat94

@blackpanzy, @ape31, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @plantzzsandpencilzzs, @flustratedcas, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @just-a-tiny-void, @disrespectedgoatman, @fallingleavesinthewind, @nymime, @nectandra, @moomkin77, @nadenia, @resident-disappointment, @copper-arrows, @romanticdestruction, @rowanshadow26

@nadenia, @northernlight-witch, @steddie-as-they-go,

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #the mummy 1999 crossover #rick o'connell #evelyn o'connell #jewish steve harrington #jewish robin buckley #robin buckley #the party stranger things #the golem of prague #steve deserves good parents actually #anyway golem of prague my beloved you didn't deserve to be made into a monster by modern media

[saisaixchan]

Re: the One Piece poll

Guys OP has a s literal army of trans characters, it's actually a plot point, there's literally so fucking many trans and NB and genderfluid people in OP its kind of fucking insane

There's Bon Clay/Bentham from as early as Alabasta in March of 2000, 3 years after the initial publication of OP

Bon's powers let him transform into other people, and he's the only member of a bad guy group with male/female partners who doesn't have a female partner bc he's both the male AND female partner in his rank

He doesn't need one bc he's both

Bon is also consistently one of the best characters who helps Luffy, and who deeply respects the bonds of friendship, and he deeply admires Ivankov (next in the list)

Plus, Bon Clay is only one of two in the villain group to become good guys and befriends the main characters

There's fucking Ivankov, Queen of Kammabakka Kingdom an island full of drag queens and trans people, with his hormone powers that lets him trans all the genders for himself and everyone around him (aka the Newkama in Impel Down- a literal army of trans people who help Luffy break out of prison so he can save his brother)

AND he's the second in command of the Revolutionary Army, a group actively against the World Government that controls the entire globe, and is fighting against it's corrupt politics and ideals, such as allowing slavery for the higher classes, fighting the racism against Fishman it's held up for centuries, and all that stuff

Ivankov is one of the most important characters in the series in regards to the world politics and the fight for freedom against the oppression of the WG, and he works with what are unambiguously the Good Guys in the world, who are headed by Luffy's father

There's Okiku in Wano, who its 100% trans and even gets the horny Sanji treatment

(which is kinda important bc there was some Bad Trans/Queer rep earlier in the series involving Sanji running from drag queens who were harassing him and for a while Sanji was pretty transphobic and it was a whole thing, but Oda seems to have learned or educated himself by this point, so yay)

Plus Okiku is a super strong samurai, fucking powerful girl go off, and everyone treats her as one of the girls and she's the best tbh she deserves the world

She's so sweet and kind and strong af and is just as much a warrior as the rest of her group

Plus there's Yamato

Who, to be very clear, is not CONFIRMED as trans, but has a lot of gender fuckery going on that he belongs on this list imo, come to your own conclusions ig

Yamato is 100% confirmed as the biological daughter of Kaido, which is backed up in several other sources and even a colorspread with only biological women, but everyone in the story itself refers to him as he/him, Including Luffy who calls him by Yama-guy/Yamao

(something Luffy only does for men- he calls Ivankov and other more genderfluid or femme leaning queer folks by -chan)

and Yamato calls himself the Son of Kaido multiple times

Yamato saw someone be so awesome that he wanted to emulate that person and become them-

but as an apparently separate decision, he decided he also wanted to be a man, too! Not just because of Kozuki Oden, but because holy fuck look at that gender, I want that for myself!!!

His identity as Kozuki Oden and his identity as Son of Kaido seem to be separate things, bc Kaido, Kaido's forces, Luffy (our main character who helps us understand how to treat situations), and everyone else around him at least acknowledges that Yamato, is, in fact, the SON of Kaido, and everyone, regardless of which side they're on in the war, respects that and treats it as fact

Meanwhile, absolutely no one treats Yamato like he's actually Kozuki Oden

And there's no sign of Yamato being forced to become a man because Kaido wanted a son- 1), he was called Oni Princess fairly consistently as a child by Kaido's forces, and 2) he only became known as Son of Kaido after Yamato himself decided he wanted to become a man

Yamato has refused everything forced on him by his father, and has run away, hid, and fought back at every moment he could, and his gender and pronouns were the only real decision of his own that have been respected as all his other freedoms were taken from him

(Which doesn't say much about his horrible father- Kaido was guided by an incredibly strong female pirate at a young age, and he has plenty of strong women among his crew. Kaido doesn't care about what gender his kid is, or gender at all)

So yeah while Yamato is not confirmed in the text as trans like many other characters are in much more obvious ways, and several sources confirm that he's biologically female, he still goes by Son and he/him by the other characters and by his own choice, so make of that what you will

Please enjoy this spread of Yamato in the Men's bath (he refused to join the women's bc no mixed bathing), and Okiku in the women's

Anyway yeah op has tons of trans, genderqueer, and genderfluid representation in it, it might not look it but it's been there since basically March of 2000 when Bon Clay was first introduced and it hasn't stopped since

#one piece #op #long post #bon clay #ivankov #imporio ivankov #okiku #o kiku #o-kiku #yamato #yamato one piece #trans rep #queer rep

[podsn]

⚠️ Major spoilers for Ahsoka ep 4 ⚠️

This fucking episode was so good. My favorite so far and I just can’t believe how much I’m enjoying this show.

First I know all the Marrok theorists are punching the air rn. I had a feeling he was gonna be a nobody especially when he was fighting Ahsoka. She disrespected this man so bad using only one saber the whole time.

Shin vs Sabine rematch was cool. Nothing too crazy like their first fight but the “you have no power.” Line was delivered so well. It sounded almost as if Shin was making fun of Sabine or calling her weak. Something like that

We got Ahsoka vs Baylan which was very cool to see. Now despite Ahsoka losing I do think they are evenly matched. Ahsoka had the disadvantage of focusing on the map. Also I didn’t expect that it would burn the shit out of her. I’m really excited to see if they will have a rematch later.

Ahsoka force throwing Shin into a wall. At first I thought Ahsoka was gonna force choke her and I was like okay go ape shit then but no just a force throw.

Sabine not destroying the map was interesting. Shows that she has too much attachment. She literally would rather join (get captured by) dark side users for a chance to see Ezra rather than let him go to prevent a war. I’m very excited to see where they take Sabine’s character.

Also Shin force choking her afterwards. Shin is an interesting character. I can’t tell if she hates Sabine but I also feel like Shin is the type of character that would rather prove herself by killing Sabine in battle but she force choked her and almost went for an easy kill. Idk cuz we don’t know much about Shin and where she stands morally yet so yeah.

Okay and now for the most exciting part. HOLY FUCKING SHIT WBW AND ANAKIN. HAYDEN CALLED HER SNIPS AND SHE RESPONDED WITH MASTER AHHH. HES HERE IM SO EXCITED FOR WHAT WE ARE ABOUT TO SEE NEXT EPISODE WITH THESE 2.

I think Ahsoka is gonna ask Anakin for advice with Sabine. I also think they are definitely gonna confront the past both clones wars era and talk about Vader (maybe) but definitely talking about them in the clone wars

#yeah I’m really fucking excited rn #idk how I’m gonna sleep after this episode #Star Wars #ahsoka #ahsoka show #the ahsoka show #the ahsoka series #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka tano #Sabine wren #shin hati #Marrok #baylan skoll #anakin skywalker #hera syndulla

[pansear-doodles]

RW Shipping Name Masterlist

F2U Shipping Emotes Shipping Emote Discord Server Invite Scug Shipping Tierlist maker

---

Considering the influence I have over the fandom, I will be using this position to create concrete naming proposals for RW Ships.

If there are any suggestions/reworks in mind, please reply to this post! Not all ships will be included but they can be added later by request (and I will intentionally not include problematic/weird ones). On the polyamory side of things, there are so many variations, so I'll just be grabbing some I've seen. (Feel free to suggest any too)

They MIGHT be ordered by popularity/frequency based on my observations (I watch the rain world hashtags on both twitter and tumblr like a hawk; and I also check the fanart discord channels). This isn't me saying that your favorite ship isn't popular or bad.

Ship names are best determined by how well it reads, if it rolls the tongue good enough and how frequent the community uses it. (Alternatively, there can be unique ship codes/descriptors if decided majority by the community)

This list isn't perfect of course, which is why I encourage people to contribute to it! It will be periodically updated.

Please be respectful to each other and be open-minded, especially considering that each of us have widely different portrayals of the characters. The RW Artist community is the most respectful shipping space I ever been on, and I want to keep it that way!

If shipping is not your taste, good for you! Let's respect each others' ideas of how we portray the characters in general.

Let us assume they are all adults in similar age ranges and nonrelated (until proven otherwise by canon) in this case please. For iterators, we will assume all are nonrelated (except Moon and Pebbles as they are heavily coded to be siblings). All shippers ignore the timeline canon the game gives generally.

Plain text means its not yet decided or used by one person Italicized text means its being decided or used by few people Bold text means its fully decided or considered by the majority (supported by dedicated hashtags if ever)

SEMI-OUTDATED (doesn't contains all the ship codes so please reply to this post with suggestions)

Contains Downpour spoilers

ARTIFICER SHIPS

Artificer x Hunter - Artihunter/Girls Who Kill/Cherry Bomb/Violent Lesbians/Red Velvet/War Criminals

Artificer x Saint - Artisaint/Death Pop/Argument/Pegasus

Artificer x Gourmand - Artimand/Gourificer/Popcorn/Barbecue/Gore-Bomb/Strawberries n’ Cream/Parentshipping/The Moms

Artificer x Spearmaster - Spearficer/Boomstick/Hotshot/Firecracker/Sparkler/Death Notice

Artificer x Rivulet - Rivuficer/Artilet/Fireboy and Watergirl/Missile/Bathbomb/Rarefacton Cell/Toasterbath

Artificer x Survivor - Survficer/Redvelvet

Artificer x Monk - Artimonk/Sunnysideup

Artificer x Enot - Enotficer/Paprika/La Bomba/Pipe Bomb

GOURMAND SHIPS

Gourmand x Artificer - Artimand/Gourificer/Popcorn/Barbecue/Gore-Bomb/Strawberries n’ Cream/Parentshipping/The Moms

Gourmand x Spearmaster - Spearmand/Kebab/Pin Cushion/Fruit Ninja

Gourmand x Hunter - Gourunter/Huntmand/Honeyham/Cherry Pie/Baby Back Ribs

Gourmand x Saint - Saintmand/Goursaint/Fluffball/Wooly Mammoth/Mintcaramel/Sacred Feast/Shamrock Shake/Ice Cream/Furball/Big Bush/Fat Blunt/Apple Pie

Gourmand x Rivulet - Rivumand/Gourmet/Fastfood/Seafood/Pufferfish/Fish and Chips/Bullfrog

Gourmand x Survivor - Survmand/Gourvivor/Marshmallow/Snowball

Gourmand x Enot - Enotmand/Gournot/Bathbomb/Scrambledeggs/Suspiciousstew/Black Licorice

Gourmand x Monk - Gourmonk/Cheesewheel/Big Cheese

Gourmand x Nightcat - Nightmand/Full Moon

RIVULET SHIPS

Rivulet x Spearmaster - Spearvulet/Fishstick/Swordfish/Speedpaint/Narwhal

Rivulet x Hunter - Rivhunter/Cotton candy/Fisher/Piranha

Rivulet x Artificer - Rivuficer/Artilet/Fireboy and Watergirl/Missile/Bathbomb/Rarefacton Cell/Toasterbath

Rivulet x Saint - Rivusaint/Speedscugs/Floofish/Fluffy Axolotl/Marine Snow/Waterdancers/Bubblefruit/Seaweed/Holy Water

Rivulet x Gourmand - Rivumand/Gourmet/Fastfood/Seafood/Pufferfish/Fish and Chips/Bullfrog

Rivulet x Survivor - Survulet/Tapwater

Rivulet x Enot - Rivunot/Speedrun/Ploink/ADHD/Explosion :3

Rivulet x Monk - Rivmonk/Monkvulet/Lemonshark/Banana Boat

Rivulet x Nightcat - Nightvulet/Deep Sea/Lanternfish

SPEARMASTER SHIPS

Spearmaster x Rivulet - Spearvulet/Fishstick/Swordfish/Speedpaint/Narwhal

Spearmaster x Saint - Spearsaint/Saintmaster/Spearmint/Icicles/Holy Stick/Thornbush

Spearmaster x Gourmand - Spearmand/Kebab/Pin Cushion/Fruit Ninja

Spearmaster x Artificer - Spearficer/Boomstick/Hotshot/Firecracker/Sparkler/Death Notice

Spearmaster x Hunter - Spearhunter/Huntmaster/Love Message/Thorn Bush/Grape Fruit/Grape Juice/Broadcats

Spearmaster x Survivor - Spearvivor/The Fighters/Glowstick

Spearmaster x Enot - Spearnot/Lagspike

Spearmaster x Monk - Spearmonk/Cheesestick

Spearmaster x Nightcat - Spearnight/Nightspear/Shadow Force/Vampire Bat

SAINT SHIPS

Saint x Artificer - Artisaint/Death Pop/Argument/Pegasus

Saint x Spearmaster - Spearsaint/Saintmaster/Spearmint/Icicles/Holy Stick/Thornbush

Saint x Gourmand - Saintmand/Goursaint/Fluffball/Wooly Mammoth/Mintcaramel/Sacred Feast/Shamrock Shake/Ice Cream/Furball/Big Bush/Fat Blunt/Apple Pie

Saint x Rivulet - Rivusaint/Speedscugs/Floofish/Fluffy Axolotl/Marine Snow/Waterdancers/Bubblefruit/Seaweed/Holy Water

Saint x Hunter - Saintunter/Cherrybush/Watermelon

Saint x Survivor - Survaint/Toothpaste/Mint Ice cream/Pistachio

Saint x Enot - Saintnot/Chaos/Godmode

Saint x Monk - Saintmonk/Monsaint/Peacemakers/Banana Split/Sprite Lemon Lime

Saint x Nightcat - Nightsaint/Holy Night/Nightshade/Chocolate Mint

HUNTER SHIPS

Hunter x Artificer - Artihunter/Girls Who Kill/Cherry Bomb/Violent Lesbians/Red Velvet/War Criminals

Hunter x Rivulet - Rivhunter/Cotton candy/Fisher/Piranha

Hunter x Gourmand - Gourunter/Huntmand/Honeyham/Cherry Pie/Baby Back Ribs

Hunter x Saint - Saintunter/Cherrybush/Watermelon

Hunter x Survivor - Survunter/Hunter Gatherer/Candy Cane

Hunter x Spearmaster - Spearhunter/Huntmaster/Love Message/Thorn Bush/Grape Fruit/Grape Juice/Broadcats

Hunter x Monk - Huntmonk/Monkhunter/Apple Juice

Hunter x Nightcat - Nighthunter/Bloodmoon

Hunter x Enot - Huntnot/Counterstrike/Hard Boiled

SURVIVOR SHIPS

Survivor x Gourmand - Survmand/Gourvivor/Marshmallow/Snowball

Survivor x Artificer - Survficer/Redvelvet

Survivor x Rivulet - Survulet/Tapwater

Survivor x Spearmaster - Spearvivor/The Fighters/Glowstick

Survivor x Hunter - Survunter/Hunter Gatherer/Candy Cane

Survivor x Saint - Survaint/Toothpaste/Mint Ice cream/Pistachio

Survivor x Nightcat - Nightlight/Oreo/Yin and Yang/Nightvivor/Survnight/Zebra Cake/Riceball/Onigiri/Starrynight

Survivor x Enot -Survivenot/Reversal

MONK SHIPS

Monk x Hunter - Huntmonk/Monkhunter/Apple Juice

Monk x Nightcat - Nightmonk/Solar Eclipse/Moon Cheese

Monk x Rivulet - Rivmonk/Monkvulet/Lemonshark/Banana Boat

Monk x Spearmaster - Spearmonk/Cheesestick

Monk x Artificer - Artimonk/Sunnysideup

Monk x Gourmand - Gourmonk/Cheesewheel/Big Cheese

Monk x Saint - Saintmonk/Monsaint/Peacemakers/Banana Split/Sprite Lemon Lime

Monk x Enot - Monknot/NachoCheese

NIGHTCAT SHIPS

Nightcat x Survivor - Nightlight/Oreo/Yin and Yang/Nightvivor/Survnight/Zebra Cake/Riceball/Onigiri/Starrynight

Nightcat x Enot - Enight/Enotnight/Nightnot/Error 404/Black Cats

Nightcat x Monk - Nightmonk/Solar Eclipse/Moon Cheese/Midnight Sun

Nightcat x Gourmand - Nightmand/Full Moon

Nightcat x Saint - Nightsaint/Holy Night/Nightshade/Chocolate Mint

Nightcat x Rivulet - Nightvulet/Deep Sea/Lanternfish

Nightcat x Artificer - Nightficer/Artinight/Fireworks

Nightcat x Hunter - Nighthunter/Bloodmoon

Nightcat x Spearmaster - Spearnight/Nightspear/Shadow Force/Vampire Bat

ENOT SHIPS

Enot x Artificer - Enotficer/Paprika/La Bomba/Pipe Bomb

Enot x Gourmand - Enotmand/Gournot/Bathbomb/Scrambledeggs/Suspiciousstew/Black Licorice

Enot x Rivulet - Rivunot/Speedrun/Ploink/ADHD/Explosion :3

Enot x Spearmaster - Spearnot/Lagspike

Enot x Saint - Saintnot/Chaos/Godmode

Enot x Hunter - Huntnot/Counterstrike/Hard Boiled

Enot x Survivor - Survivenot/Reversal

Enot x Nightcat - Enight/Enotnight/Nightnot/Error 404/Black Cats

Enot x Monk - Monknot/NachoCheese/Moon Cheese/Midnight Sun

ITERATOR SHIPS

Pebbles x Suns - Redpebbles/Sunstone/Hot Rocks/Fallen Suns/ Fallen Sunset/Pepper Volcano/FPS

Pebbles x Sigs - Sigpebbles/Ragequit/Gamer Rage/Rock and a Hard Place/Synthesizer

Suns x Sigs - Sunsigs/Traffic Light/Therapy Session

Suns x Moon - Sunmoon/Eclipse

Sigs x Moon - Sigmoon/Lilypad/Neuron Spam

Moon x Sliver - Slivermoon/WaningCrescent/Fallen Gods/Harvest Moon

Sliver x Wind - Sliverwind/Windy Fields

Wind x Innocence - Windocence/Content Warning User Interface

Pebbles x Suns x Sigs - Sigsunpebs/Cold Ones

MISC. PAIR SHIPS

Artificer x Scavenger Chieftain - Artiking/Regicide

Artificer x Hunter x Rot - Artrothunter/Explosive Hunting

Survivor and Monk's Parents - Mayo Ketchup/Salsa Rosa

Artificer x Hunter x Scavenger Chieftain - Artihunterking/Triple Threat/Triple Red

Robin x Carl - Corbin

MULTI-SHIPS (3)

Artificer x Saint x Hunter - Artisaintunter/Spicy Pesto/Tri-Force/Cyberbullying

Artificer x Hunter x Spearmaster - Artispearunter/Girls Night/Murdercat Trio/Murdercats

Artificer x Hunter x Gourmand - Artihuntermand/Heartwarm/Homebound/Sunrise

Saint x Rivulet x Gourmand - Saigourmulet/Seasoned Fish Fillet/Ice Cream

Artificer x Rivulet x Saint - Artisaintvulet

Survivor x Gourmand x Spearmaster - Gourvivaster/PB&J

Spearmaster x Rivulet x Saint - Spearsaintvulet/Crazy Straw

Artificer x Saint x Spearmaster - Artispearsaint/Dangocats

Hunter x Survivor x Nightcat - Survnightunter/Neapolitan

Artificer x Spearmaster x Rivulet - Artispearvulet/Ultrakill

Rivulet x Hunter x Monk - Rivuntermonk/Sonic Heroes/Red Waters

Saint x Hunter x Rivulet - Saintuntervulet/RGB

Hunter x Rivulet x Spearmaster - Huntvuletmaster/Pufferfish

Rivulet x Spearmaster x Gourmand - Rivmastermand/Fish Kebab/Luau/Seafood Kebab

Spearmaster x Artificer x Gourmand - Spearficermand/Spitroast

Saint x Gourmand x Enot - Goursaintnot/Fluffy Ball of Chaos/Digital Yarn Ball/G Fuel/Choking Hazard/Mountain Dew/Divine Dining

Survivor x Enot x Nightcat - Survnightnot/Oreo Sunday/Lightswitch (System related)/Monochrome

Saint x Enot x Nightcat - Saintnotcat/Cheats Enabled/Glitched Cycles/Ascended cycles/Repeating Fates/Starry Mint

Spearmaster x Hunter x Monk - Spearuntermonk/Juice Box/Apple Cider

Rivulet x Saint x Gourmand - Rivusaintmand/Surf n Turf

MULTI-SHIPS (4)

Artificer x Saint x Hunter x Spearmaster - Artispearaintunter

Artificer x Hunter x Spearmaster x Rivulet - Artispearuntervulet

Gourmand x Spearmaster x Saint x Rivulet - Goursaintmastervulet/Sushi/Popsicle

Gourmand x Spearmaster x Rivulet x Hunter - Gourspearvuletunter/Fish Fry

MULTI-SHIPS (5)

Artificer x Saint x Hunter x Spearmaster x Nightcat - Artispearaintnightunter

Artificer x Saint x Spearmaster x Rivulet x Gourmand - Artispearaintvuletmand/Speartigourmrivsaint/DP Gang

Artificer x Hunter x Spearmaster x Rivulet x Saint - Artispearaintvulenter/War Crimes

MULTI-SHIPS (6)

Artificer x Saint x Spearmaster x Rivulet x Gourmand x Hunter - Artispearaintunervuletmand/Rainbow/Tie-dye

MULTI-SHIPS (7)

Artificer x Saint x Spearmaster x Rivulet x Gourmand x Hunter x Enot - Artispearaintunternotvuletmand

Artificer x Saint x Spearmaster x Rivulet x Gourmand x Hunter x Nightcat - Artispearaintunternightvuletmand

MULTI-SHIPS (8)

Artificer x Saint x Spearmaster x Rivulet x Gourmand x Hunter x Nightcat x Enot - Artispearaintunternightvuletnotmand (phew... *accidentally summons satan* FUCK.)

#scug shipping #rain world #rainworld #rain world downpour #rainworld downpour #rainworld spoilers #rain world spoilers #dp spoilers #text #slugcat #iterator

[taeloke]

Overanalyzing 4KOTA Chapter 142 instead of just waiting for more info (1/2?)

Honestly? I'm writing King's side of this separately, because it's about time I started talking about him here l and I know I can go on forever about him. That field of over-analysis needs its own house. I would go off about him first but then I'd forget his kids entirely and I don't want to do that to them... Speaking of--

So silly. So precious. Berte is so Helbram-coded and I'm sure that's intentional resemblance.

You know...I wonder which of their traits were inherited from Diane's parents. Probably the golden hair on almost half of them at least. Sixtus and Tioreh's pink hair looks more like a genetic mutation...unless their hair color is inherited from the leaf color of the Sacred Tree? That's possible too.

Diane seems less energetic since becoming a mother. She's settled down and has been shown to be gentle more often than bubbly, which was the impression she gave me in the original series. I'm assuming she hasn't fought since entering the Fairy Realm, too. She's put the stress of the Holy War behind her, and I'm happy that she seems content with her lots of babies. I wonder if she'll get to hear about Dolores once the current issues are over. I'm sure hearing she's Nasiens's adoptive big sister will be a shock. Diane deserves to know that.

The way Tioreh says this makes me suspect Puck is the one behind Nasiens and Myrtel's switcheroo. He must really love that "prank" in that case. Regardless of who was behind it, though, that's actually fucked up. A fairy trolled their own king by swapping their first child with a human, probably knowing exactly what issues both kids would be put in. I can't call this just a prank. I love King to death, but his people are their own kind of awful...

For this moment, let's glance back at how she reacted to that news at first.

Tioreh must have been suspecting this the whole time Nasiens was here, but this reveal may be the moment she started to seriously believe it, if not when Nasiens admitted to feeling healthier in the Fairy Realm. After this, she started to open up about her siblings more and telling Nasiens that he's like them--especially like Phao. All of this is stuff that Nasiens didn't know about since he met her two years ago. All of the tension in this family over Nasiens and Myrtel has been building up for so long...and right now we're watching it all cave in. I'm sure King and Diane had good intentions for hiding the truth, but hiding it's not working anymore.

And Diane knows it's not working anymore. I'm stuck on her asking "Is that bad for you?" Why is she asking that of all things? Is that what King and Diane were so worried about when they decided to never come out about this? Did they think their kids would be upset with having a human for an older brother?

Okay, but maybe that's not all that they considered. Maybe they got worried about how their people outside of their family would react to their theories being confirmed. If that happened, as unfortunate as it is, Mertyl would probably get more ostracized than he was. With that in mind, I'm sure his parents made that choice to protect him from some of the problems he'd inevitably go through. It's a nice thought that way, but this was still a bad call. They made too many assumptions of their own kids' feelings.

In other news...Phao was lurking... Now they're all gonna know and clear up this misunderstanding with their parents, right?

Anyway, I feel like I've written too much for one post, so I'll go on about the rest of the chapter tomorrow. Closing this part with this:

myrtel peek

#4kota #mokushiroku no yonkishi #nanatsu no taizai #nnt #nasiens #nnt diane #tioreh

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest | Vol 29

Howdy folks!

This is the final Spreadsheet Digest of 2023! I started the spreadsheet back in May as a way for me to keep up with everything I read. Basically, I was having trouble finding fics I had read so I could reread them or I was getting two chapters into a new series before realizing I'd already read it. So I did what I do and I made a spreadsheet about it. Then I felt like other people might benefit from a searchable list of fics. Then, and I don't know why, I thought people might want to know what I thought about the stuff I was reading. And here we are - 29 volumes and 34 weeks later.

Sorry for long intro! This week I have 16 fics for you (Frankie, Joel, Max Phillips, Javi P, Ezra, Dieter, Dave York, and Jack/Whiskey). Summaries and Tags provided by the author where applicable - sometimes I filled in some stuff.

You can find my masterlist here and all my fic recs here

Recs under the Pedro!

My Way - Frankie one shot by @goodwithcheese

Summary: Frankie's working on his truck... you interrupt him Tags: PIV Sex, Frankie uses his words, aka "you know he talks you through it," frankie is bossy Thoughts: if he uhhh "uses his words" this much in the series this is technically set in, I do believe I'll be reading that. This was HOT. Like absurdly hot. Lemme be you car girl, Frankie

Cocoon - Joel series by @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: A short ode to Joel's coat. / a bath with Joel Tags: Angst and intimacy. 1 reference to blood and allusion to canon typical violence (nothing is described) Thoughts: God i love little intimate moments like this... wrapping yourself up in Joel's coat, washing the bad day out of his curls... I am SICK! Someone let me hold this man, please.

I'll Leave a Light On For You - Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons. Tags: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s. Thoughts: This is beautiful. Just absolutely stunning. I have a fascination with the concept of past lives, and I adore the way it's written about it here. There are some really interesting takes on it here with Max being a vampire. Also, side note, this fic made me cry. It's that soft angst that you don't expect to make you sob, but holy shit. When it hit (you'll know it when you read it) it hit. I was devastated. And then because it's adira and "we do soft here" it ends sweet.

Once in a Blue Moon - Dieter one shot by @whatsnewalycat

Summary: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo. Tags: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention Thoughts: Aly has this way of writing Dieter that is like she knows him in real life. He feels so personal and real to me in her stories. I think I say this every time I talk about her fics, but my Dieter would not exist without hers. Anyway -- this fic is wonderful. Dieter has all that silly druggie boy charm he always has, there's a really interesting inclusion of him having PTSD from working on the movie from The Bubble and a really interesting way that he's dealing with it. It's got perfect vibes for us christmas haters too. I loved this so much.

Jingle Balls / Dashing through the ho - Frankie series by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: Santa Frankie porn... that's it. That's the fic Tags: santa kink???, cockwarming, cum, like so much cum, unprotected vaginal sex, unethical use of a mall Santa Village, semi-public sex, dirty talk and pet names, mentions of free use. / santa kink again, free use, spreader bar, creampie, come eating, facefucking, throatpie, anal sex, degradation, cum, pet names (honey, little girl, sweet girl, baby), praise, CUM AGAIN GUYS LIKE IDK WHAT HAPPENED HERE. Thoughts: This is mostly my fault and I refuse to apologize for it

Galletita - Javi P one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Summary: Your sister and brother-in-law have enlisted your help with their small business while they await the birth of their first baby. You help with the cafe and find yourself face to face with a new customer whose appetite might have met its match in you. Tags: big boi Javi P is hungry and a little cranky, you like to bake and Javi likes to eat, belly kink, feeding kink, probably bad Spanish, we’re playing fast and loose with timelines, canon, and everything in general, so just forget about timey wimey boo boo wah wah and enjoy the story lmao Thoughts: I do, in fact, need a big boy

Devour - Ezra one shot by @frannyzooey

Summary: Falling for Ezra on the Green Tags: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny Thoughts: It was a gift for me, so I really probably should not be so amazed by how much I love this fic. But oh my god, dude. Love as consumption, freak nasty smut, Ezra being Ezra, bi!Ez, the Din/Ez hints (I'd like to know more about that), it's all perfect. I will never stop being obsessed with this

Tear You Apart - Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Summary: it's the 70s and your friend invites you to an underground club where one of your favorite musicians is playing: dieter bravo. Tags: innocence kink, mild corruption kink, backstage sex, piv, dirty talk, weed, oral + handjob (male receiving)obsessed with rockstar Dieter. Thoughts: I'm surprised I haven't seen more rockstar Dieter. This was hot, filthy, and just... in the words of the man himself perfect.

One Man Show - Dieter one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets himself off! Tags: male masturbation, use of sex toys, anal fingering, butt plug, sex tape??? i guess Thoughts: I'm loving this solo session concept so much. Dieter filming himself!!! for no reason!!! is so hot. Everything about this is so fucking hot. I want him to send me that video...

I am a nightmare, you are a miracle - Joel series by @party-hearses

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before. Tags: slow burn, explicit (eventual) smut, language, infidelity, alcohol, age difference, soft!joel, no cordyceps outbreak, sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), tommy stans don’t come for me. Thoughts: I have been very intentionally not reading WIPs and waiting for them to be finished, but I fucked up. I was scrolling the dash and frannyzooey recc'd this and it caught my eye and I just didn't even check if it was finished. But I regret nothing. Ch 4 is coming soon, I'm manifesting it. I fucking love Joel in this and I'm super intrigued by reader's uhhhh mommy issues and the way that those manifest.

MASTERLIST BINGE INCOMING | @brandyllyn

To sell your love for peace - Javi P series by @brandyllyn

Summary: You are Javier’s newest informant. You’re not his usual type but he’s willing to make an exception. More than one. Tags: smut, sex work, canon typical violence, javi being a moron Thoughts: I adore a lovers to idiots to lovers story... and man is Javi an idiot. The characterization of Javi here is perfect. Protective!Javi is very canon and I love seeing it in fic. Also, I don't normally go for miscommunication tropes (they tend to annoy me) but this was perfect. I loved every second of this story.

The Serpent Under It - Dave York one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: Dave is very good at his job Tags: Canon typical violence. kinda dark yo, soulmate AU Thoughts: I don't typically read soulmate AUs, but I actually read several of brandyllyn's this week. They're very different from the normal trope. This one broke my heart and it's less than 800 words.

To perish twice - Javi P series by brandyllyn

Summary: You can feel when your soulmate comes. Tags: smut, soulmate AU, Javi being an idiot, male masturbation, piv sex Thoughts: This is what I mean... you can feel when your soulmate has a fuckin orgasm??? What a concept. This was really hot, kind of funny, and had just the right amount of angst.

Cross My Heart - Ezra one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: While waiting at a clinic for the hope of a prosthetic arm, Ezra meets a woman who will change his life Tags: Talk of self harm / suicide but no one does it, discussion of medical procedures and prostheses, some use of ability based slurs by Ezra and others, canon typical violence Thoughts: We love a man who will threaten to murder someone's entire family for you... no seriously. I absolutely love Ezra's characterization here and I love the FMC's story AHHH. It's just a very sweet story... with a little Ezra flair.

Into the Shade - Ezra series by brandyllyn

Summary: Why would anyone fake having a soulmate? Tags: Ezra being Ezra, con man!ezra, soulmate AU, smut, Ezra x OFC smut, Ezra x reader is in there though. Thoughts: Yet again, the typical soulmate concept has been turned on its head here, and I love it. I also adore the flores animae - the particular soulmate mechanic in this fic. It's really interesting!

Dreams are Sweet Until They're Not - Jack Daniels series by brandyllyn

Summary: A crimson rose could only mean one thing. Tags: soulmates au, Jack being a slut, angst, smut, happy ending Thoughts: Okay last soulmates AU on the list, sorry. I went a little nuts. They're just so good. The ending of this one was so sweet, dude.

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My fics this week:

Something Sweet - Javi p x reader - You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. (fluff, smut)

Under Your Skin - jack daniels x javi p x reader - You’ve worked on Chucho’s ranch since you were 15 years old, grew up with Javi, loved Javi… He comes back after nearly 20 years to find you hooking up with a certain former secret agent. He’s jealous, for sure, but of who? (smut)

in the a.m. - javi p x reader - Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs (smut, angst)

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Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[rraaarr]

Aziraphale, Crowley, The Cold War and Other Possible Lenses

First, I just want to say that there Is NO Wrong way to interpret literature and this post is not meant to invalidate anyone's interpretations. But I want to talk about the final 15 from a different perspective. Again, not saying other interpretations aren't there or valid or baked into the show, just that I want to see what we discover when we look through another lens. And the lens I wanna look through is what I personally think is the lens the Book was actually written through. Now, I know there are a lot of differences from book to tv (for example, how much Crowley is invested in duck health)

But in the book,it's relatively clear that one major interpretation is that it's an Allegory for The Cold War (Two sides that go to war and don't care about the casualties of who gets caught in the middle,as long as their side wins) The First thing when Armageddon goes down that both Azi and Crowley try to get out of trouble is they Both ask each other if they can defect to their side. It is important to note this is Not in the TV show, but I do believe (correct me if I'm wrong) it's in the script book. (The scene in the book takes place in The Bentley I believe)

This is important for Azi's ask at the end of S2. We Know that whatever the convo with Metatron was, Azi could tell Something was up. He doesn't know it's specifically the second coming, but he knows it's Something. Remember, at the end of S1, Crowley says they bought themselves breathing room for "the big one". And Azi is probably pretty sure that this project Metatron is talking about is exactly that. Keeping in mind the first move both Book Azi and Crowley make in the ApocaNot is to try and defect, it makes sense, from that lens, that Azi would Jump at the chance to offer Crowley the safety of defection. Keep in mind, In -The S1 scene at the Globe -The WWII magic show scene And -The Victorian Body snatcher scene Azi isn't worried for what Heaven will do to Crowley, but what Hell will. Afterall, it's Hell that collects or threatens to collect Crowley in the flashbacks, and it's Hell Azi is concerned will destroy Crowley "If hell finds out, they won't just be angry, they'll destroy you", Aziraphale says. He's worried about what Hell will do to Crowley, not Heaven. (well that and holy water)

So, given that background, it stands to reason that Azi feels he and Crowley are Safer with Heaven than Hell. Yes, Heaven tried to kill Azi, but that was once. Afterall, Hell doesn't write "rude notes".

And look, we don't know what exactly Azi goes through with Heaven,but a lot of Heaven's ab*se seems to happen from Azi's superiors, but if he's Surpreme Archangel, Azi will be the superior and in a high enough position to Protect Crowley, or at least I imagine that's Azi's rationale. So, again, it stands to reason that 1) Azi would assume they'd both be physically safer in Heaven and 2) That Crowley wouldn't take it personally,as, per the book, they've Asked to defect to Heaven before. Now, to be fair, this is Book Canon, not TV Show canon. So, let's discuss (briefly, because this could be another post) Aziraphale and Crowley's view of Angel/Demon as identity, or at least what AZI would know of it. Azi doesn't hear Crowley discuss being a demon very often other than to

1) tell Azi that they didn't mean to fall or some variation

or

2) Tell Azi that they're a demon, and, thus, they're not nice (an assertation that is usually, immediately, proven Wrong, ala the Job episode, but we see it elsewhere as well)

And, based on that, I also think another lens we can look at Azi's offer is one of a Restoration, The Righting of an Injustice. Hell and being a demon is an allegory for a kind of criminal punishment. Crowley was kicked out because he was "bad", this was unfair, and now, the error or the judgement is being recognized and fixed. This is obviously a VERY LOADED concept, but it is very possible Aziraphale views this offer as Righting a Wrong, Correcting an Injustice that was Done TO Crowley. I'm not saying these are definitive lenses to look through, just alternate ones that can help us understand what Azi is thinking when he offers Crowley to be an Angel.

#crowley #aziraphale #good omens #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses

[piedpiperart]

Four Can Keep A Secret

Secret trio plus Red Robin fic where Danny is captured by the GIW and Jake Long, Randy Cunningham, and Tim Drake end up rescuing him together. AO3

Chapter One

Due to a case, Tim had been patrolling the area by the docks more recently. It was within his territory, so it didn’t take long for him to notice something strange going on. The past few days, any time Tim patrolled the area, his comms glitched. The air was cooler here, and it felt like there was some sort of static in the air that put him on edge. It was almost like the weather reflected the bad vibe Tim was having about the location, and based on past experience, he figured nothing good would come of it.

After doing some research on the surrounding buildings, Tim was able to narrow it down to one of the bigger warehouses. It had access to Gotham Bay, and from the blueprints he scrounged up it looked like a sizable basement as well. It was clear that they needed a big space and access to water, so whatever they were carrying to and fro wouldn’t be noticed by boat. Both were bad signs, so Tim had to get a closer look. From there, it didn’t take long to do research and plan for a reconnaissance mission.

The purchase of the warehouse went through shell company after shell company, and any transactions were firmly shielded and rerouted enough that even Tim couldn’t bypass it. Which led to tonight, where Tim was scaling the surrounding fence to get in to see what was going on. He approached the side entrance, one he’d mapped out through the blueprints earlier, but stopped in his tracks when he heard voices. 

“Dude! That’s not stealthy!”

“We don’t need to be stealthy, we need to get into the-”

“And breaking down the door is gonna alert the guards!”

“But we’ll be inside!” 

“Inside and in danger!”A tall guy in a ninja uniform exclaimed, probably louder than he meant. Both arms were gestured wide as he towered over a smaller figure in red. 

At first glance, Tim thought it might be the League of Assassins, but the type of outfit paired with the red accents made him think otherwise. Not to mention an assassin would be much more subtle, not arguing loudly with a teenager in front of a warehouse they wanted to break into. It was unlikely that the league had sent what seemed like a kid Tim’s age on a mission as well.

On the other hand, the kid arguing with the ninja was short, dressed in regular civilian clothes with spiky black hair with dyed green tips. He wore dark blue shorts and a red jacket, crossing his arms with a scowl as he squared up to the taller ninja. As much as he was curious about how a civilian got involved, Tim was under the impression the two teenagers were about to start brawling if he didn’t do something. To keep them from getting caught, Tim dropped down from the AC unit he was perched on to land closest to the door. 

The two nearly let out a shriek before covering each other’s mouths. “What the juice dude!” The ninja scream-whispered, throwing his hands in the air again.

“Holy shit, you’re one of the bats,”The civilian teen said, albeit a bit more nervous. He scowled at Tim a second later.“What are you doing here?”

“Breaking in,”Tim said, hoping for nonchalant while connecting his wrist computer to the security panel on the doorframe. It was already open, most likely from the other two, so he only had to plug in his code to get it working. “I’ve been monitoring this place. Do you know what’s going on in there?”

“Not really.”

“Yes,”The guy in red said at the same time the ninja shrugged. 

“Great, care to fill me in? We’re on a time limit and I’d like to get in and out as fast as possible,” Tim asked, looking at the guy in red pointedly. 

“A government agency took the Ghost King captive,”He explained reluctantly. “I was sent to return him to his dimension before a war broke out between this realm and theirs.”

Tim paused, turning to him in surprise. It sort of explained why the guy was dressed covertly, but he didn’t seem to have any weapons on him, just a small satchel looped around his chest. It was perplexing to think about how this guy had connections to the ghost king. 

“Oh. That makes more sense,”The ninja perked up. Tim was surprised at that, because while magic might be involved, surely someone on the JL would have noticed a missing King.“I was told to rescue someone inside, something, something, he’s guarded by guys in white, by a magic book.”

Of course it was magic, Tim groaned internally. He’d have to reach out to Zatanna or Constantine about this. For now, he’d keep an eye on the two teens with him. If they had any ulterior motives with the rescuee, Tim would be able to stop them and get the King to safety. Before Tim could ask another question, the Ninja asked,”Which bat are you?”

“Which ninja are you?” Tim countered, unlocking the door. He slipped into the hall silently, glad that the ninja seemed to excel at stealth when he barely heard any footsteps following him. He was less impressed with the guy in red’s attempt. 

“I’m previously known as the Norrisville Ninja, now just the Ninja,”He introduced himself with a whisper. “I go on magical quests given to me by a cursed book.”

“Awesome,”Tim grimaced. He couldn’t help it when magic was involved, especially now that the Ninja was in Gotham. He hadn’t heard anything about Norrisville or Ninjas. If he remembered correctly, Norrisville was around Arizona. It was a long way from Gotham. Tim hoped the guy would be able to get out of Gotham before B caught wind of him. “You can call me Red Robin.”

“Yum,”The two of them chimed, and Tim wanted to smack something. Preferably the two idiots behind him.

“Just call me Jake. I’m an ambassador for magical creatures in America,”Jake added quietly. Tim turned to give him a look, but he didn’t elaborate. He could almost feel the need to unravel Jake’s secrets vibrating in his chest, waiting to burst and ask a million personal and invasive questions. But he refrained, like a normal person. “Someone’s coming on the left. Two people.”

Trusting the supposed magical ambassador, Tim pulled the three of them into a supply closet. Judging by the rescue mission and tense look in the two, Tim figured they were telling the truth. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he’d stumbled upon though, given that he’d never heard of Jake, the Ninja, or the Ghost king before. 

Tim turned away from the door to find Jake and the Ninja whispering furiously with each other. “You’ve met before?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow. The two stepped apart.

“Unfortunately,”Jake grumbled. “We’ve met before, once or twice.”

“Cut the cheese, man, I saved your butt a bunch of times and you know it,”The Ninja said. Tim could tell he was grinning through the mask. 

“If you don’t shut up about it, I’m going to roast you like a marshmallow,”Jake retorted, his last words verging on a growl. Tim looked over at Jake subtly, wondering if that was a normal habit or if the guy was a meta. The two quieted down when Tim put up a hand, everyone now serious, and a few seconds later he opened the door to find the guards gone.  

Red Robin didn’t have to say anything to get them moving, and instead followed the blueprint in his head to the basement level. “Woah,”The ninja breathed when they reached the lower level. Everything was white with eerie glowing neon green lights that reflected off the three of them. 

“This is so creepy,”Jake muttered, glancing around. He was a bit paranoid that he’d be the one trapped in something like this one day. With how his old highschool teacher always tried to capture him, it was a very real concern, and he dreaded to think of what might’ve happened if his teacher was even a bit more competent. The eerie white walls and secret scary basement had been a fear of his growing up, especially during those times when he was being hunted. Clutching the strap of the satchel around his chest, he followed the two boys in front of him with a little more urgency. He couldn’t imagine what horrible things the Ghost King was going through here.

 While Jake couldn’t wait to get out of there, he wasn’t leaving until he found the Ghost King. His grandpa and the council of Dragons had been alerted to the danger when the ghosts started going crazy. Apparently, the Ghost King had a reputation for maintaining the balance between the ghost realm and the human realm, and not only was he good at keeping the peace, he was held in high regard by almost every ghost out there. Speaking of ghosts, they were coming in from the realms at a higher, more alarming level than ever before, searching the earth for their stolen king. A few made their way to the dragons with the news of war and Jake was tasked with finding the King to prevent it. Jake shuddered at the thought of a whole dimension of ghosts attacking the living. He wasn’t even sure what side the Dragon council would pick in that fight, but hopefully they wouldn’t need to choose sides. 

After Jake was sent on the mission, armed with a satchel of ghostly ectoplasm- said to heal ghosts from any physical ailment- he made his way to Gotham. Spud helped him track the King to the warehouse, but whatever software they were using at the place couldn’t be cracked remotely. He’d been told about the GIW, a government agency hell bet on eradicating the ghost population, and was upset that none of the magical community had learned about them before. It certainly made his job as the American Dragon more difficult, but at least he was here now.

Jake glanced over to Red Robin, who seemed to know where they were going. The guy led them confidently down the spooky hallway with no hesitation, so Jake followed easily. While he was nervous about being on a Bat’s radar, he was glad Red Robin was there to get them in quickly. From what he knew about the Ninja, he didn’t have any technical skills either. Red Robin was still a better choice than the Bat himself, but Jake was hopeful he wouldn’t have to reveal his powers to the guy. If he did, Jake figured it would be a little more difficult than usual to get him to keep quiet about the existence of the Magical community. 

The Ninja definitely knew he was the American Dragon, but Jake was beyond grateful that the guy hadn’t revealed Jake’s secret to the Bat. He’d only met the Ninja twice before, both when he was on some odd quest from whatever cursed book he was attached to. The first time he’d saved Jake from being revealed to a crowd of paparazzi after a battle with a well-timed smoke bomb. The lanky teen had disappeared so fast Jake thought he was hallucinating until he saw him again during a mission with unicorns. Some overeager college kids had come across a group of them outside and the Ninja had helped him round up some of the unicorns that ran closer to populated areas in the scuffle. Jake was pretty sure the guy knew about the Magical community, but since he seemed to be on their side, he didn’t see the point in alerting the council to the Ninja. He was a good ally to have, even if Jake wasn’t sure of his motives.

Jake shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. Looking around, he saw containment cells, a vat of glowing green liquid, and various tools that gave Jake more than a bad feeling. The sooner they could get out of here the better, he thought with a shiver. The place gave him the creeps, and he was sure that it would be haunting his nightmares for the rest of his life. 

“How do you know where you’re going?” The Ninja piped up, looking over Red Robin’s shoulder. It seemed like a genuine question, but Red Robin shifted the screen away anyway. 

“I have the building schematics, and I downloaded their files,”Red Robin reported, taking a left turn out of the area with containment units and down the hall to the scary lab. “According to this, they have one current captive, labeled PH-01. Nothing in the containment cells we passed so I’m betting the guys here have him in a lab.”

“This is so rank,”Ninja grimaced, looking around. He seemed to talk when he was nervous, Jake observed,”How come this place is so empty? I thought we’d have way more guys to fight by now.”

“I set up a distraction at the other end of the building,”Red Robin grinned briefly before covering it up with a blank smile. He pointed, coming up to a bigger locked door at the end of the hall. Green light seemed to shine through the cracks at the bottom of the door. “It should give us enough time to get whoever’s inside and get out.”

“He’s the Ghost King,”Jake reminded with a frown,”Probably glowing. He can float, turn invisible, that sort of thing. If they caught him he’s going to be restrained in some way.”

“Magic book told me he has white hair and green eyes,”The Ninja added helpfully. 

Red Robin filed the information away as his wrist computer got the door unlocked. It slid open with a hiss, and bright, white lights turned on overhead, making the two without a domino mask wince. Whatever the trio was expecting, this was worse. 

In the room was a bunch oh medical equipment paired with what looked like torture devices. In the middle of the room lay a metal exam table with a small figure strapped down. Tim was surprised to find that the ghost king was around his age, smaller than he’d expected. It made the situation worse in a way, knowing that the people here were experimenting on a kid. Experimenting was sadly the best word Tim could find to describe it, given that the boy had heavy duty restraints on his wrists and neck. No restraints on his legs, but he figured it was because one of the legs looked bent at an unnatural angle. The beginnings of incisions adorned the King’s bare chest, and what looked like needle marks in his arms as well as the IV attached led Tim to believe that the guy was being sedated. 

They stood frozen at the entrance for a few seconds before bursting into motion. The Ninja, surprisingly, went to try to get the cuffs off while Jake went to patch up the unconscious figure with Tim. “I don’t think I can use anything to heal him until the restraints come off,”Jake said, pulling out bandages out of his bag. He didn’t know how ectoplasm would mix with the ghost-proof restraints, so since there was nothing he could do magically, Jake started making a makeshift splint to hold the crooked leg together. 

“Nothing I have can break these,”The Ninja said, frustrated. He went to the other end of the room, snooping for weapons or keys to unlock them before standing watch instead. 

Meanwhile, Tim tried to get the collar off. He figured out quickly that breaking it with the laser on his utility belt wouldn’t work, and set to hacking it instead. Almost immediately, he knew this was going to take longer than they had, and shut his wrist computer with a snap. “I need more time to get the restraints off. We need to move, now,”Red Robin said, moving to help Jake finish patching the kid up. He detached the IV and other restraints keeping him to table, while the smaller teen finished wrapping his leg. 

“There’s a bunch of people coming, any ideas on how to get out of here?” The Ninja said hurriedly, rushing over to help the two get the unconscious boy up off the table. Since the Ninja was the tallest out of the three of them and closest to the Ghost King’s height, they carefully situated the ghost onto the Ninja’s back. Red Robin took up the lead, taking the four of them out a back entrance away from where the guards were coming from. 

“This leads up to the roof,”Red Robin directed, a little surprised at the Ninja’s ability to carry the boy up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat. “From there we can take him to the Batcave or-”

“No, he’s staying with us,”Jake growled deeper than before, and shouldered past Red Robin. “None of us want the Bats involved in this more than they already are.”

“I’m not saying you have to,”Tim placated, not letting any of his frustration bleed through his voice. “It’s just an option if he needs more medical attention than we can give him.”

“I have a safe house close by,”The Ninja offered, and Red Robin wasn’t surprised when Jake readily agreed. Tim agreed though, given that the Ninja seemed to be the closest thing they had to neutral. Alarms blared behind them as Tim kicked open the rooftop door.

The four of them got onto the roof, Jake closing the door behind them. He broke off the door handle in a surprising show of strength that Tim did not have time to process. “Here, I can take him and grapple-” Red Robin started before getting cut off. 

“I got him,”Jake growled again, and Tim was about to argue when the Ninja just handed the Ghost boy off. Sighing quietly, he resigned himself to just follow along as Jake held the boy easily in his arms despite his small stature. Jake turned to Tim,”Don’t freak out,”He said, accepting it with a bit of suspicion when Red Robin nodded.

Then, to the surprise of the vigilante, Jake transformed into a giant red dragon. “Get on,”Jake grumbled, securing the ghost king in his arms as gently as possible. The Ninja whooped, climbing onto Jake’s back gently despite his excitement and gestured for Tim to follow. Red Robin refrained from spouting all the questions he had and followed. He’d definitely seen weirder, and there was no time for introductions again with the guys in white banging on the door behind them. 

“Hang on!”The dragon called with a sharp grin before he stretched his wings out and leapt off the roof.  Snuggled securely in his arms was the unconscious Ghost King, while the Ninja and Red Robin were holding on for dear life on Jake’s back. They tried to be mindful of the guy, but it was hard not to grip too tight when they were flying so high. “Got directions for me?”He called, and Tim was surprised they could hear him over the wind. 

The rest of the ride went by quickly, with the Ninja giving directions to a small apartment not far from Gotham University. Meanwhile, Tim was trying to take in every detail of the two boys in front of him. Riding a dragon was something he’d never done before, and he had to restrain himself from running his hands over Jake’s ruby scales. He wondered if they were like armor. Was there heat resistance? Tim found his mind racing with the wind around him.

The Ninja on the other hand, was surprisingly muscular despite his lithe, tall figure. Since Tim was seated behind him, he had no choice but to hold on to the boy in front of him if he wanted to stay on the dragon. Despite knowing that the Ninja had multiple weapons on him, he couldn’t spot a single one. Did the Ninja have magical powers too? Tim had a lot of questions, but he knew now was not the time. The most important thing right now was getting those restraints off the Ghost King and preventing a war. 

The two riding the dragon didn’t waste any time getting off once they landed on a rooftop. The unconscious King was passed to the Ninja again and Jake transformed back to human. Tim supposed it made more sense that Jake was an ambassador of magical creatures now that he knew he was a dragon. Or part dragon, Tim wondered. This was not his expertise, so he followed the two with the most experience into the apartment, keeping his eyes peeled for anything suspicious while fiddling with the codes on his wrist computer. 

“Mi Casa es su Casa,”The Ninja grunted, tossing some keys to Jake while keeping a steady hold on the boy on his back, who caught them and easily opened the door. 

“I thought this was a safe house,”Tim said absently as they walked in, still typing. The more time he had to crack the code the better, just as long as he was in the same vicinity as the ghost he could keep working. 

“Well, it’s safe, and it’s where I live, so,”The Ninja added, unable to shrug with his arms full, and brought the boy over to a table near the kitchen. “Can you clear off the books?” He asked, and Jake scrambled to clear the table, helping the Ninja set the Ghost king down gently. The unconscious boy’s head lolled to the side and his white hair drifted over his face. Randy paused, helping him into a more comfortable position before brushing the hair out of the way. His face remained relaxed, not stirring in the slightest at the movement. Randy grimaced when he caught sight of the blood smeared on his neck under the collar, and he hoped they could help him.

“Do you have any medical supplies? Towels?”Jake asked, getting back to work on fixing up the guy passed out on his table. Randy went and got them, pointing Jake to the kitchen to grab some warm water. He rushed to the bathroom, reaching under the sink to pull out his first aid kit and snatching a few towels off the counter. He was glad to have washed them the other night. 

Making his way to the kitchen, he saw Red Robin in a chair next to the Ghost, typing away on the tiny computer on his wrist. He only paused a few times to lean over and look at the collar or fiddle with it, but Randy figured he’d get it off soon with that determined look. Bringing the supplies, Randy spent the next two hours cleaning and dressing the boy’s wounds with Jake. He paused briefly to get Red Robin a bigger laptop to work from, but stayed by Jake’s side to help secure the ghost’s broken leg..

Halfway through, he pulled off his mask, letting the rest of his suit retreat and revealing his unruly purple hair. Red Robin hadn’t even noticed, still typing away, only now he was using Randy’s laptop that he’d gotten for school. It helped to have room to type with both hands, he’d said when he thanked him. 

Jake on the other hand was speechless for a moment, staring with wide eyes before grinning. “Want me to keep calling you Ninja?” He snarked, and Randy rolled his eyes. 

“It’s Randy, actually, but you can call me anytime,”Randy winked, and Jake threw an unused rag at him. Randy dodged, snickering, but got back to work. 

Once the Ghost was bandaged and no longer bloody, they got him in some of Randy’s pajamas and moved him to Randy’s bed. It just so happened that the pajamas were blue and had little polar bears on them. Despite the bandages and makeshift cast, the kid looked more peaceful laying on the comfy blankets. “I’ll keep an eye on him,”Jake said, rolling Randy’s spinny gaming chair to sit next to the bed. He still had the satchel on him when he plopped down on the chair, and held it tighter when he got restless or nervous. Randy assumed he was carrying something important for their guest in there, so he left it alone. No doubt it was something magical and very hard to obtain, and Randy was well known for clumsiness outside of the mask. He was going to avoid messing with it.

“I’ll make some food then,”Randy hummed, but before he left he rummaged through his drawers to find some extra pajamas for Jake and himself as well. He tossed them over to the shorter teen and left the room before Jake could yell at him for it. 

After getting changed in the bathroom, Randy meandered his way past Red Robin, who still had his head in the computer, and into the kitchen. He figured the guy could use something to keep him awake. Opening the fridge, he found a grape flavored Zesti energy drink and brought it to Red Robin. The guy almost flinched at Randy’s presence, but zeroed in on the energy drink and relaxed. “Thanks,”Red sighed, reaching for the drink. He paused, finally noticing the absence of a ninja suit. Randy wanted to laugh at how wide the eyes of his mask went but took pity on him. It was late, and they needed Red Robin to get the collar off. 

“Call me Randy,”He grinned, then turned to the kitchen. “I’m making food if you want anything or have allergies. Let me know if you want another energy drink, I have a bunch.”

“Yeah,”Red Robin rasped, then cleared his throat and reaching for the drink. He got back to work a few seconds later, keeping the can between his arms as he typed. Tim wished he had a straw to drink while he worked, if only to keep him distracted from the cute boy in the kitchen.

Back in the kitchen, Randy was busy making breakfast sandwiches, because that was one of the only things he knew how to make and had enough of those ingredients. He wasn’t quite sure what the others wanted on their sandwich but he’d make it pretty plain in case they had weird tastes. Glancing back at Red Robin hunched over at the kitchen table, he didn’t feel as nervous as he thought he should be at the bat. Randy didn’t mind sharing his identity with the two, and to be honest, either one could figure out his name just by knowing where he lived.

 He had known Jake didn’t trust the Bats, so Randy suggested his own place. It helped that he wasn’t far away, considering he was going to Gotham University for a Media X major. His apartment was neutral ground when it came to magical creatures and the vigilantes, and he was sure the nomicon predicted things working out this way. It definitely wasn’t because he was lonely, no. Randy only just moved to Gotham, away from his friends and family. He was doing fine making friends in college. Sharing his apartment with other heroic teens was just convenient. It was just a normal, college apartment, and he hoped the ghost at least would be more at ease with the surroundings when he woke up. 

Soon enough, Randy plated the sandwiches individually, adding a bit of avocado, tomato, some onion, sriracha, mayo, ketchup, and bbq sauce to his own. He paused, then found the bag of chips on top of the fridge to add to the side of each plate. Going back to the fridge, he pulled out another energy drink and took one plate to Red Robin. 

The guy didn’t even notice Randy dropping off his food, but he seemed to be concentrating so Randy let him be. He left, taking the empty can with him. The purple haired teen hoped the plain egg, sausage and cheese muffin was fine. It was one of the only things he could cook after working at McCluckbusters for one too many summers. 

Grabbing the other two plates, he made his way to the room with the sleeping ghost. “Your dinner awaits, milady,”Randy bowed dramatically, holding out the plate to Jake.

The dragon boy snorted, but dug in gratefully. It was almost 6am already, and Randy was sure all three of them had been up the whole night. He himself was used to late nights gaming, but Jake looked tired. Randy took a bite of his own sandwich, putting some of the barbeque flavored chips inside it to add a crunch, but paused when he saw Jake staring at him. 

“Yo, what did you do to that sandwich, man?” Jake asked, setting down his own sandwich and looking at it like it suddenly had a bug in it. 

“It’s delicious,”Randy said with his mouth full. “Why, do you want some? I left yours kinda plain in case you didn’t like other stuff.”

“Okay, I do like the avocado but it looks like you have ten different sauces on there,”Jake judged. “You couldn’t just pick one?”

“It adds to the flavor,”Randy defended,”And it’s only like, four. I was out of ranch.”

“Oh my god,”Jake sighed, exasperated, “Next time I’m cooking,”He added,”I’ll show you real food.”

“Hey, I learned these secrets the hard way,”Randy said, adding more chips. 

“What, from a fast food place?” Jake asked, mentally planning what dishes he could make with ingredients that a midwestern college white boy would have in his fridge.

“Yeah, exactly,”Randy grinned, and Jake just rolled his eyes.”So if you want breakfast sandwiches or cake fries, I’m your guy.”

“Cake fries?” Jake repeated, looking at Randy in disbelief.

“Just wait til you try it,”Randy pointed out. Jake just rolled his eyes, but Randy could see a small smile on his face.

 They ate in silence after that, talking about random things and watching the sleeping boy between them. Randy took Jake’s plate when they were done, walking out to put them in the sink and check on Red Robin. 

To Randy’s exasperation, the guy had drunk the energy drink, but left the food with a few bites next to him. It seemed obvious that Red Robin had barely taken a break from trying to crack the ghostly restraints, and Randy didn’t know if it would be more or less helpful to remind him of the food. He decided to leave it for now, and took the empty can. He was worried that Red Robin was pushing himself too hard trying to crack the code, but for now he’d help out however he could without bothering his work flow. 

Randy admits, he is a bit restless with no emergency going on, and two strangers in his house. He ended up doing the dishes, giving Red Robin another energy drink, and started on cleaning around the house when he noticed Jake starting to fall asleep in his chair. Cracking his knuckles, he approached with the subtlety of a younger sibling.

“Come on, get up,”Randy shooed, much to Jake’s confusion and annoyance. “Don’t give me that look, you’re practically falling asleep.”

“I’m fine,”Jake growled, but let Randy herd him out of the room.

“Go take a nap on the couch, I’ll keep watch on him and wake you if anything happens,”Randy assured, leaving Jake to settle on the couch without tripping on the too long pajama pants to go grab a spare blanket. He draped it over Jake, grinning in satisfaction when he seemed to drift off in seconds. 

Randy glanced over at Red Robin, who had eaten a bit more but was still hunched over the laptop, and figured the guy was still doing okay. A thought came to him though and he grabbed some more pajamas and a glass of water to set next to Red Robin. Randy was never so grateful of his mom’s Christmas Pajama Tradition. He got a new pair every year and since he’d stopped growing he never needed to throw them away unless they got super old or beat up. 

Randy made his way over to the ghost king and took over Jake’s chair. Plopping down, he grabbed a blanket on the floor to wrap around his cold feet and leaned back to watch the sleeping boy in front of him. All the blood and cuts were cleaned and bandaged, so the little King would have looked almost peaceful if not for the bright green collar around his neck. Throughout the escape and getting settled in the apartment, Randy hadn’t actually gotten a good look at the guy before now. His skin was pale, with almost a hint of blue in it, and his short hair was almost ethereally white. Leaning closer he could see his eyelashes were white too. 

Sitting back, Randy huffed. He definitely had to skip school tomorrow. Considering he and the others had been up all night now, Randy hoped he’d be able to stay awake. Spotting his switch on his nightstand, he leaned over to grab it. Starting it up, he figured he’d play some Animal Farm to try and stay awake. It was a kind of mindless game so he wouldn’t miss anything if the Ghost King moved at all. 

Meanwhile, Tim was nearly done. He had hacked into the files he downloaded to try to find the key to unlocking it, but it turned out that the GIW had gotten the invention from some scientist named Fenton. It was even harder to find blueprints for the collar, but from what he could tell it was running on some sort of alternate power source. The glowing green energy didn’t seem to run out, and reminded Tim a bit of kryptonite. 

Given that it ran independently, the restraints were stuck on the ghost until someone deactivated it with a similar device. It was like the thing was half magic half technology, and Tim was only good with one of those things. What Tim was trying to do was unlock the restraints without the key, and to do that he needed to try and mimic the power source on his own end. To do that, he was trying to get the devices to register each other as a key, but it was slow going. Tim hadn’t done something like this before, but he knew he could do it with enough time. Time he wasn’t sure the ghost king had. 

Then the vigilante frowned. He looked up from the computer, wondering why Jake and Randy were being so quiet, only to find Jake sleeping on the couch. Tim blinked, but figured Randy was keeping watch on the Ghost King, while Jake slept. Looking at the clock on the laptop, he could see why. They’d been up all night, and it was nearly 9 in the morning now. With all the energy drinks he’d had, Tim wasn’t even tired. He couldn’t be tired if he wanted to get the restraints off the boy in Randy’s bed.

Tim sighed, reaching for the can on the table but instead brushed fabric. Surprised, he turned to see a pair of space pajamas with a soft Nasa t-shirt. Next to it was a glass of water and Tim frowned. While he was getting a bit uncomfortable staying in his suit for so long, he wasn’t completely at ease around the boys. Reluctantly, he took a sip of the water, hoping that they didn’t run out of Zesti. 

Glancing back at the screen, he figured now was a good time to take a break. No one else was around, so he quickly and quietly stripped out of his armor and into the soft pajamas, but kept his utility belt, boots, and mask on just in case. Folding his suit and placing it on the chair next to him, he took the time to stretch out his muscles, relishing the way his back cracked. 

Sitting back down, he was glad for the clothing change into something more comfortable. The pants were a bit long and the shirt too big, but they were soft and smelled like some sort of flowery laundry detergent. It was nice. He took another sip of water and started typing, hoping to figure out how to get the power source in the restraints to mimic the type of key needed to trick the system. 

Jake jolted awake with the imprint of the sterile, white lab and eerie green lighting on his eyes. He swallowed down the flames in his throat and rubbed his eyes. When he was no longer afraid to set something on fire, he yawned, stretching. He looked around, seeing Red Robin now sporting space pajamas a few sizes too big, and he could just make out Randy playing a game on his switch in the chair through the doorway of the other room. 

Yawning again, he set the blanket aside and got up. Jake scowled when he almost tripped over the pant legs of his borrowed pants. Despite the tripping hazard, he made his way to the kitchen to look through Randy’s cabinets. Looking at his phone he saw it was nearly 11am and figured the others would appreciate some food. He was surprised to find rice in one of Randy’s cabinets, and figured he could make some fried rice with some of the vegetables in the freezer. Nevermind that the rice looked untouched for months, but it would be easy to make a large amount of food for everyone. 

Jake was pretty sure that ghosts didn’t need to eat, but he figured the guy might appreciate being saved a plate just in case. He placed the satchel with the ectoplasm inside on the counter, and got started cooking. It was calming his nerves to focus on cooking rather than the vigilante at the table and the unconscious Ghost King in the other room. Randy seemed chill, but Jake was paranoid that one wrong move and Red Robin might contact some other heroes to take over.  Looking at the guy now, knowing he’d been hunched over the laptop covered in various stickers for hours and not calling anyone because Jake asked him not to, he felt like the guy deserved some trust. And rice. 

Almost an hour later, Red Robin stood up, ignoring the now cooled bowl of rice at his side. “I got it,”Red exclaimed, making his way to the Ghost King. Jake and Randy perked up from their chairs, sitting around the bed. 

“You got it?” Randy asked with a grin. He stood up, switching to hover around the boy on the bed. 

“Just let me get this ready first,”Jake muttered, pulling out the vial of ectoplasm. Tim nodded, making his way over to the collar. He only needed to activate his program with a push of a button. Once Jake was ready, he nodded to Tim. 

Red Robin took a breath and pressed the button, hoping it would work. Abruptly, the Collar’s bright green light cut out, and after a moment it seemed to pull apart, dropping into two halves on the side of the boys neck. The three watching gave a sigh of relief, but tensed back up when the white haired boy started to stir. 

A weak groan filled the room, and the ghost’s face twisted in pain. Jake was all but ready to use the ectoplasm when suddenly a bright light filled the room. Looking away, the three covered their eyes as it seemed to get brighter and encompass the boy on the bed. 

Red Robin was the first to look back when the light faded, and held in a gasp when he saw a very human boy in place of the ghost. “He turned human?” Randy exclaimed, looking from the other boys in the room and back to the ghost king turned teenager. 

Jake, still holding the ectoplasm, was gaping. “Will this still help him?” Jake asked no one in particular. He had no idea if the human part would reject the ectoplasm. 

“I’ll get the medical supplies,”Tim threw out when he noticed the kid’s appearance. The others, just now looking at he tattered clothes and fresh injuries, blinked in confusion and panic. 

“How does he have different injuries now?” Randy complained. Even the pajamas were gone, replaced with tattered jeans and a t-shirt that used to be white. 

While the ghost version of the boy had a broken leg, this kid’s arm was dislocated, horribly bruised, and possibly broken. Further inspection led to a few nasty burns that looked like something like a blaster hit him, and based on the new rattling sound when he breathed, they were pretty sure some ribs were broken. 

Another thing they learned was that the ghost king might also be… a ghost queen. In their human form, at least. Red Robin took point on getting the… teenager dressed while Jake and Randy averted their eyes in embarrassment. Tim’s cheeks had turned red, but he was at least used to clothing mishaps and more unsavory situations while being a hero. This hardly phased him, but they were all confused about how the Ghost King thing worked when one was a human girl at the same time. They all more or less agreed not to comment on it and stuck with the Ghost King’s he/him pronouns. At least until the teen was able to explain. 

Jake however, was still trying to decide if it would be a good idea to give the teen the ectoplasm or not. He’d received limited information about ghosts and that to do with the ectoplasm, but he had no idea if it would help or hurt the human part. He sat in the chair with a huff when they finished patching up the kid and got him in another set of pajamas. This time they had little dogs on them.

“I can find out for you,”Randy said, looking at the ectoplasm meaningfully. He waved an old looking book in his hand for emphasis. Jake however, did not know what Randy meant by that. 

“How-?”Red Robin asked, but cut himself off. He clearly didn’t know what he was allowed to ask about or not, and it was very amusing for Jake. 

“Sure, go for it,”Jake said, thinking Randy was just going to read the book. He was unprepared, however, for Randy to open it and immediately collapse. 

“What the-” Jake exclaimed, rushing to catch Randy before he hit the floor. Red Robin joined him and they carefully lifted the purple haired teenager onto the bed so he laid next to the other unconscious teen. “Geez,”Jake breathed. 

“Did you know he was gonna do that?” Red Robin asked absently, and Jake shook his head. 

“I knew his book was magic but- man he coulda warned us that would happen,”Jake scoffed. Red Robin let out a small laugh, sitting on the edge of the bed. They were a little overwhelmed, but it was a relief to be able to have someone else to talk to about it. 

Seconds later, Randy woke up with a gasp, startling everyone but the unconscious kid. “Jesus, man, you coulda warned us!”Jake exclaimed, but Randy largely ignored him in favor of pointing to the ectoplasm vial that Jake was still holding. 

“S’good! All good, give him the stuff,”Randy got out, climbing out of the bed and pacing the room. Jake hesitated, but started getting to work while he watched Randy pace. “So- the nomicon was pretty vague about why he’s human in the first place but basically the green stuff helps both forms. Basically.” 

“Basically,”Tim repeated, while Jake gently coaxed some of the ectoplasm down the kid’s throat. He hoped it worked. 

They hovered around the bed for a moment, then watched in awe and surprise when most of the injuries started to heal. It didn’t heal the bigger injuries as much, but most of the bruising and smaller wounds disappeared, leaving little scars. 

Bright blue eyes suddenly opened, and the teenager lurched forward with a cough, huddling in on himself. Unsure what to do, Jake and Randy stepped back to allow Red Robin to come forwards and reassure the kid. “Hey, it’s okay, its alright,”He said softly, but nothing he did seemed to calm the kid down. 

The human ghost king tried to crawl away from them, moving until his back hit the headboard of the bed. He was obviously still in pain, and his eyes were darting around frantically but not seeming to recognize anything. Tim bit back a retort when he was shoved backwards as Jake moved to be right in the kid’s line of sight. 

To Tim’s surprise, Jake transformed into a dragon again, and it actually seemed to calm the kid down. “You’re safe now. The humans won’t hurt you anymore, okay?” Jake said, and Tim understood. Having a more magical creature around would help the kid recognize there were no more agents around. It was smart. 

“I’m out?’ The kid croaked. Tim was amazed at how quickly he seemed to trust Jake, but he supposed it made sense. Meta solidarity or something like that. 

“Yeah, you’re out,”Jake reassured, helping the kid lay back down. The kid seemed to lose all strength when he recognized he wasn’t in a lab. “You’re the Ghost king, right? What’s your name?”

“Danny,”The kid sighed, going boneless in Jake’s arms. The dragon was nice and warm, and he hadn’t felt warmth like that in… what felt like forever. Looking around, he saw just a normal bedroom. “Where..”

“I’ll explain everything when you’re feeling better, but you don’t have to worry about them finding you. Just relax and heal, okay?” Jake said, pulling some blankets over Danny without disturbing the injured arm. The teen was still out of it, obviously exhausted from his earlier panic and trauma, but he laid back down easily enough. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Danny was asleep before Jake could even finish his sentence, and all three conscious boys breathed a sigh of relief. “Poor guy,”Randy whispered, plopping down on the chair again. Tim hummed in agreement, and looked over to Jake, who was still holding Danny’s hand in his dragon form. 

“You okay?” Tim asked, and Jake turned to look at him. 

“Yeah,”Jake said, shaking his head. “It’s just. What happened to Danny could have easily happened to me, or any one of the other magical creatures out there. I’m.. It’s my responsibility to protect them from things like this, but I didn’t even know…” Tim patted Jake on the shoulder reassuringly. “You still saved him, and he’ll get better thanks to you.”

“Yeah,”Jake said, turning back to human form in a dazzling show of light. Tim was fascinated, but he swallowed back his questions to not make the guy feel uncomfortable. He ended up yawning, and Jake looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You should take a nap, you’ve been up for like, two days.”

“I’m fine,”Tim yawned again, refusing to tell him that it was more like three days he’d been awake. With Danny in the clear, most of the adrenaline keeping him up was draining out of him. Jake hummed in a way Tim knew he didn’t believe him. 

“Hey, you can just take the couch over there, “Randy piped up, and Tim was wholly unprepared for the guy to foist a handful of blankets on him and drag him over to the couch. “We’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“I’m not tired,”Tim tried to protest, but once he was laying on the couch piled high with blankets, he really didn’t feel like moving. 

“Sure, just rest your eyes then,”Randy said placatingly, and Tim was already on his way to dreamland. 

#jake long #randy cunningham #tim drake #danny fenton #danny phantom #ninth grade ninja #red robin #american dragon #dcxdp #dcxdpxjlajxrcngn #secret trio #plus tim #four can keep a secret #if one of them is dead #see its a pun #kinda

[wazzappp]

Alright whose ready to see my lose my mind over continually more ridiculous au ideas? Trick question your gonna see it happen anyway (I have. so much bullshit. i have an entire other au that I havent posted about yet and i am thinking. about the re7 au again brother. I have fallen into the pits don't come save me or I'll drag you down too).

also jesus FUCK @moosemonstrous coming in clutch again with both star wars knowlege and the ability to actually remember things beyond a day and a half of talking about them THANK YOU.

STAR WARS AU

The Jedi originally came to Tatooine looking for Gabe. Sensing his strength with the light side of the force they thought he would be a prime candidate for training. Unfortunately for them, Robbie and Gabe are a package deal. They begrudgingly allowed him to come along as well because he is also force sensitive, but a little older than they would usually let in for training. Robbie agrees to because 1. if he just says no who KNOWS if they'll just take Gabe away forcefully and 2. STEADY FOOD SOURCE. ROOF OVER THEIR HEADS. ADAQUATE MEDICAL CARE. NO MORE FUCKING SAND. He doesen't trust these people as far as he can throw them but FUCK anything must be better than here.

During a sparring session another padawan purposefully infuriates Robbie, causing him to reach out to the dark side. He nearly kills the other padawan with the strength of his outburst. It then becomes EXTREMELY EVIDENT that Robbie is VERY strong with the dark side of the force. As a result of this outburst, one of his eyes gets the usual 'sith look', he gets special training to try and suppress those feelings, and he gets permanent pariah status in the Jedi Temple (I have. plans. i am being vague on purpose because FUCK I want to draw this scene in my head so bad but I also want to get this out to yall in the same month so it will be coming later. my dramatic bitch syndrome demands it).

After the clone wars get started (he's around 16 at this point) the Jedi realize that they need more people to fight. Robbie, though being previously disqualified for his history, is accepted for training and assigned Jedi Knight Johnny Blaze as a master.

Unfortunately, along the way Johnny starts picking up more solo missions and eventually disappears about 6 months in and everyone thinks he's defected (he's spying on the sepratist's for the republic). Which MEGA sucks for Robbie because 'holy shit the unstable padawans master defected' is getting thrown around and thats really not great. He wanders off deep into the temple where he can hopefully find a place to throw his feelings around in peace and stumbles into the artifact room, which opened in response to sensing the dark side. Bad news, you cant use the same method to get out.

Even MORE unfortunately one of these sith artifacts starts talking to him. After telling him how to get tf out of the vault and convincing Robbie that things are about to get bad ('I FELT what you could to out there kid do you REALLY think they're gonna let you stay? You gotta get out of here. And if you take me with you I can guide us to a ship they can't trace')

So Robbie sets out to run away, fully planning on taking Gabe with him and gets second thoughts while packing to which Gabe goes 'fuck that were GOING' (he's like. 11. But he'll be damned if Robbie goes somewhere and leaves him who knows how long). While escaping via unauthorized ship takeoff, Elis holocron makes it look like Robbie has fully gone to the dark side and there are clones sent to stop him.

Robbie responds by using the force to throw another ship at them and escapes with Gabe. Now they're both on the run. Robbie wanted by the jedi council for kidnapping, and Gabe wanted back to complete his training.

Eli died as a dark side user and a wannabe Sith. He never really graduated into full sithhood and spent most of his time working for Senator Ivanov and his dealings in Hutt space. He was OBSESSED with the prospect of immortality and sought ways to survive even after death.

When he was used as a scapegoat by Ivanov (he reported Eli to the Jedi council to make him look a little less suspicious), his back up plan of imbuing a holocron with his force presence was put into use. He's been sitting gathering dust in a vault of darksided relics for the past 10 years, just waiting for his chance to get out.

Gabe is an EXCEPTIONAL student in the Jedi temple. He enjoys learning about the force and how to use it, and for the most part gets along with his peers. His mobility aid has been improved since Robbie first built it for him out of scraps he was allowed to take from working on ships on Tatooine. Some days are still better than others, and there are times when a wheelchair is more appropriate, but generally the braces are good for daily use.

He is VERY defensive of his brother and absolutely will not hear a bad word said about him (many bad words are said about him. everyone things Gabe is incredibly sweet, but also to blinded by his love for his brother to see that he poses a threat). It very much so does frustrate him, he's just better at dealing with those feelings then Robbie is.

Anakin gets his fun force choking so I think that Robbie should get something fun and funky and special too so enter: JAW BREAK!! Yes it is very ring inspired but I wanted to make it MORE. So fuck it he rips the whole jaw off its hinges I think this would also probably kill you very dead.

Plus some doodles because brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot

#ghost rider star wars au #FUCK. WORDS NOT WORDING WELL TODAY. THIS COULD BE BETTER IM SORRY #THIS IDEA MAKES ME UNWELL IM GONNA POST MORE ABOUT IT #AAAAGAGGHHHHHHH #AAAGH #ghost rider #robbie reyes #gabe reyes #eli morrow #my art #sketch

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Polyamorous: Apple Pie Life

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Warning: Pure fluff and a bit of smut

The First kiss |  The first touch | Moving In | The day they left for war | Found you | The day Stark found out | Big Change | The Train | The Plane | Alone | Unfortunate sequences of events | I know her | The Resturant part 1 | The Resturant part 2 | It’s me | You can keep her | He’s okay with that | Mama loves me | Kissing Captain | Kissing Winter | Healing | Hurt | We’ll Wait | Memories | Prude | Whore | Put in her place | The day Stark Jr. Found out | Now you know |  Nursing | Like a Virgin | Morning After | The Catacombs | Off with her head | Grieving the Insane | Let me make it up to you | Punishment | Spiderling pt1 | Spiderling pt2 | Twentieth-century love | The new we can imagine | Connection | Please, marry me | Walk me | Stand with me | Final touches | I Do | Honeymoon | A moment of Paradise | Pictures from Paradise | The Fever | The bad days | Let’s talk about it | Practice makes perfect pt1 | Practice makes perfect pt2 | Seed | Unknown Stolen | unfulfilled Duties | Talking Emotion | Next Step | Holy Shit!! | First steps to hope | She’s Awake | Nicknames | The Mother and The father | The Boy | The Name Game |Talking | Not Ready | No Boy | Returning lust | Seven Days (pt1) | Seven Days (pt2) | Seven Days (pt3) | Seven Days (Final Part) | Tears of Joy | Apple Pie Life

(Y/n) took a step back and looked at her hard work. She was quite proud of herself she got it all done in a timely manner as well, two hours less than she thought. Clapping from behind startled her. Spinning around, she found Bucky. He seemed proud as well.

"I thought it would take you longer"

"I did as well. I forgot that one, I'm semi-retired/ part-time, and two, I can't keep as many private medical files here as I want as it's not " secure' "

Bucky gave side-eye, but she waved him off, not giving him a reason to show her how secure the place truly was. She was not giving him an excuse to pull out another hidden arsenal. She was already aware of the one in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom she wished to remain ignorant of the rest. Although she knew he would reveal every spot to her by the end of the month.

"You're missing something," she turned, looking at him confused. Stepping forward, Bucky pulled something from behind him and set it on her desk amongst her knick-knacks. It was a family photo. Their picnic at the park. It even had an adorable flower frame.

"awe," she cootied

"And now Your office is complete."

"Actually, there is one thing that we forgot," she said as she pulled him to her desk. At first, he was a bit confused and let her pull him along, but he quickly got the memo when she plopped her little ass on that desk, spread her legs, and lifted her dress. " we got to christen it," she giggled as she unlatched his belt. He stopped her.

"As much as I'd love to, and yes, darling, I would very much love to. " She started to pout. He kissed her pout " we still have work to do, and our daughter and husband are still wondering about. I'd hate for a specific one of those two walks in on us."

(Y/n) groaned, she really wanted it but she knew he was right. Adulting sucked. "Later?"

"Yeah, you can have us both later, preferably when she's out of the house, I promise" She continued to pout and re-buckle his belt. Hopping off the desk, she leaned into him. He groaned as she cupped a feel of him and squeezed.

"I'll hold you to that."

And with that, her peppy smile returned, and she was off to find their daughter.

Bucky looked down at his new problem and sighed. Maybe he should have taken her offer.

-

"Hi," (Y/n) poked her head into Ash's room. "Oh, this is amazing," she said as she looked around her room. "Oh, I love this," she said, approaching the wall next to her bed it had hanging fairy lights as well as hanging pictures of friends and family ( she ignored that the wall contained 70% Peter, The guys would definitely 'enjoy' this").

"I'm printing more, and the others are sending me more. Those I don't put on the wall, I'm going to put in our photo album," Ash said as she motioned to the collection of photos untouched on her desk.

"Can I see?"

Flipping through the photos, one could easily see how the family had grown with their time together. See how Ash has changed, no longer tensed and scared but relaxed and comfortable. And talking more too. Of course, her mouth wasn't running a mile a minute, but she could hold a conversation better than before. One could see them becoming a family over time within these photos. And you could also see Ash and Peter slowly getting closer, that was going to be a cutie relationship when it happened.

"really making it all your own."

"I'd like it to be," Ash said as she took her Pikachu plushie and hugged it tight. She was just so adorable (Y/n) rushed around the bed to squeeze her tight and drown her in kisses. Ash screamed and giggled as her mother suffocated her with love.

" I Love you," (Y/n) whispered, and her breathless daughter simply nodded. It was until (Y/n) was at her door about to leave did she speak.

" I love you too".

-

The house was officially done. Furniture was set, Pictures up, everything in its place, and now the security system was in place. This house was now a home.

Bucky sighed as he entered the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took off his shirt. It was then that he realized and began to appreciate the layout of their bathroom.

The bathroom was right in front of the bed, and right in front of the door was their large jacuzzi bathtub which currently held his beautiful wife and husband in a bubble bath. Who were both in an affectionate embrace.

"I love this bathroom," Bucky said as he leaned on the door frame watching his lovers. He watched as his husband took his wife's nipples into his mouth. She moaned as he bites down slightly leaning back she saw Bucky standing there.

"Come join us," she said as she pushed Steve away slightly and made the come hither motion at Bucky. "Let's christen the tub"

"Really couldn't wait, could you" he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt.

"we did, we waited all day," she said as she moved to lean over the edge of the tub. "Don't want to wait anymore" She pulled him forward by his belt. Pulling it off and tossing it across the bathroom and unzipping his pants.

"Eager, aren't we"

"Like she said, we've been waiting all day," Steve said as he pulled Bucky's pants to his knees.

"Two against one. Give us what we want," she said, kissing his thigh

"Take it"

-

(Y/n) grabbed the base of his dick, and Steve kissed the tip of his dick. She came up and licked his length. Their lips met, kissing the tip. Bucky bit his lip as he watched Steve take his length in his mouth. He moaned when (Y/n) tugged on his balls.

She stood up, dripping wet, and pulled him into a kiss he moaned as Steve swallowed around him. "feels good, doesn't it" (Y/n) whispered against his lips.

Steve pulled away, taking (Y/n) with him she giggled as he pulled her back down into the water.

Bucky kicked his pants off the rest of the way and got into the tub. He cursed when the water overflowed. (Y/n) laughed "it's okay, it's okay. We'll clean up later. Just kiss us now" He did, first kissing her and then him. He returned to kiss her and put her on the tub's edge.

"I want a taste," Bucky said, spreading her legs. She closed her eyes and leaned back. He kissed the sensitive spots of her thighs she became breathless as he slid his tongue through her folds and whined as he kissed her clit. She tugged on his hair, pulling him closer she wanted more. She moaned as he thrust his tongue into her entrance, nosing and rubbing her clit.

She was pleasantly startled when he moaned against her. She opened her eyes to find Steve behind Bucky, kissing along his neck and shoulders, his hands disappearing under the water and bubbles. By the way his arms were moving and with Bucky's noises, it was clear what was happening underneath the waves.

Unable to focus with his tongue Bucky switched to his fingers, slipping three fingers inside of her and pumping them up at a sloppy pace.

(Y/n) pushed his hand away and lowered herself into the water. Leaning over Bucky, she pulled Steve into a heated kiss. Slipping her tongue into his mouth she could still taste their husband on his tongue. She moans against his lips, and she pressed her chest against Buckys. Her hands join Steve's pumping him and fondling his balls.

Bucky moaned and whimpered. Between them tugging his underwater and the moans in his ears he was quickly unraveling.

"Fuck, Fuck I'm going to .....I'm -what?!" Steve and (y/n) both pulled their hands away "why?!" Bucky cried breathlessly, heaving.

"Relax, we're just moving this to the bedroom, " Steve said, kissing him.

"Come on, let us christen the bedroom," (Y/n) said as she stood up and let out the water.

-

Steve was the first to wake up. Waking up to the sound of chirping birds and the light from the window shining over the sheets. Next to him was Bucky, and on the other side of him, (y/n) lay on his chest. Steve watched as his wife and husband slept peacefully, beautifully. Quietly and skillfully, he crawled out of bed and found his sketch pad. Taking a seat in the corner of the room, he began to sketch the beauty in front of him.

-

Sometime later, Bucky woke up feeling around the bed, he found his wife but not his husband. Feeling around the bed some more, he felt a piece of paper Picking up the paper and opening his eyes, he sees a sketch of him and his wife.

"What is it" (Y/n) asks, sleep still evident in her voice.

" It appears our husband has been up for a while." He shows her the sketch.

It's of them, (Y/n) curled up into his side, a hand on his chest over his heart. Bucky had one arm around her shoulders, holding her close, the other laid out as if waiting for Steve's return. The sheets were up to their waist, and the shading showed the light.

"How does he do that?" (Y/n) asked

"I don't know"

"I'm going to start a scrapbook of all his loose sketches." (Y/n) says, taking the sketch from him. Kissing his chest, she got up, dressed, and tucked the sketch away.

-

"what's happening here?" (Y/n) asked as she entered the kitchen Bucky followed her.

"Breakfast," Ash said, showing her plate of pancakes. " Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, fruit. Which are blueberries, strawberries, oranges, or bananas if you want."

(Y/n) came up, kissing her daughter's forehead, and hugged her tight.

"Thank you, both of you," Bucky said as he pulled Steve from the stove and kissed him.

"just wanted a nice breakfast in our new home," Steve shrugged as he plated the food. "Come on let us eat"

(Y/n) stood back, arms wrapped around herself, watching her husbands and daughter finish setting up the table and plating food before taking their seats. Bucky was complimenting them on the food. Ash looked quite happy to explain all she had done to help.

She listened as her Buckt gushed over their daughter's cooking, and Steve praised her skills in the kitchen and asked when they'd see more of her cooking. (Y/n) sat down with them.

Ash's smile, Steve and Bucky's laughter. The smell of a home-cooked meal and the warmth of a family. It truly was a dream she had never dreamt. And looking out the window, she giggled. They had a picket white fence.

"You got that look on your face again," Bucky commented, and he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. It was a face of pure joy. She'd sit there and smile and giggle at whatever triggered it. Something they had gotten used to in the last few weeks. An expression of full satisificaltion and happiness. And it seemed right now that the fence had triggered it.

"Hey?" everyone turned to her " Later ...can we make apple pie?"

#fanfiction #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve roger x reader #Bucky barnes x reader #steve roger fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #stucky x reader #stucky fanfiction #steve roger x reader bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers x reader #stucky smut #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #steve x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #stucky x reader smut #smut #fluff

[archivistofnerddom]

Yo, I just had a late night Bad Batch thought / headcanon:

Maybe the reason that Tech has his little recording device set up on the right side of his goggles is because he has hearing loss in that ear and that’s how he compensates.

My reason for that? Because Crosshair using his right shoulder as a stabilizer for making tricky shots. We see this happen during the Bad Batch’s introductory arc during season 7 of The Clone Wars. The comfortable, easy way they do this makes it clear that this is not the first time this happened.

Look at Tech’s head! He just tilts it to the side slightly to give Crosshair more space. The ease with which these two have this dynamic makes it clear that they’ve done this before. Crosshair uses Tech as a stabilizer / tripod when he’s making a tricky high shot. Tech isn’t even fazed by that and clearly accommodates Crosshair.

Now take a look at Tech’s goggle set-up:

That recording device is on the same side that Crosshair used / uses.

It clearly records both visual and sound, as evidence later in the Batch’s intro arc. Tech is able to play back the flying creatures’ sounds to lure them in for help.

No matter how good the guns that the Batch use are (and I suspect that they aren’t using peak GAR weaponry because, well, why give your best to the deviant clones?), no one is going to have a gun fired that close to their ear without suffering some kind of hearing loss. Even if Tech has outstanding ear protection, he’s still going to have some impact, at least to that ear. (And I suspect he doesn’t have top of the line ear protection because, again, the Bad Batch are the defective experimental deviant clones.) Hence, he has a device on that side of his head to compensate for another defect (and to continue with his hobby of recording everything). His brothers are probably aware of this and just say he records everything to hide the fact that HOLY SHIT TECH HAS HEARING LOSS.

And maybe that’s one reason why he’s so expressive with his hands (and good at understanding hand signals). Perfect (or even decent) hearing isn’t required when you speak with your hands.

Anyway, make of this what you will. This notion came to me at a late hour and made my heart hurt.

#what if tech acquired hearing loss because of being crosshair’s stabilizer #and he has figured out how to compensate without making that obvious #his little recording device serves multiple functions #star wars #the bad batch #tech the bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #the bad batch headcanons #star wars headcanons