#is it a spoiler if i tag this? bc i swear it’s been at least two/three years

[thorn-princess]

i love how we all collectively still call him guy lastname even tho i’m pretty sure he has a canon last name now

#a3! #guy lastname #is it a spoiler if i tag this? bc i swear it’s been at least two/three years #guy nishiki #og / ramble / a3!

[heartpascal]

is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

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If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

#heartpascal writes #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #jessica drew x platonic reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse one shot #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse angst #miguel o’hara angst #struggling idk how to tag with a new fandom shhh

[brisquad-unit-4402]

zombie au with ike ft. luxiem - In Pursuit to and from the Sun

(i think this submission got lost in the sauce and i can't find it but at least i still have this screenshot)

lmao sorry i went off the grid for a sec. life happens, you know, applied for some vsf programs, went on a classified operative excursion away from my post and got a new writing software. i actually wrote the last of this on a helicopter returning from the mission so that’s why i didn’t proofread beforehand sorryyyyy. but more importantly I TOUCHED GRASS. guys. i touched so much grass. i touched so much grass i could replant a garden. call me a topiary, i touched that much grass. is this what it’s like to work at a dispensary? bc i touched so much grass

a few disclaimers: this fic is ike centric but contains general luxiem angst as a treat and may be read in a platonic or romantic tone, whichever you prefer. it's also another 10.7k words long so if you want to read but don’t have the time, use a like/rb as a bookmark. most importantly: heed the tags for this one, i kind of went off the deep end here

tags: platonic relationship, hurt no comfort, angst, zombie au, no happy ending, gender neutral reader 

⚠️ major character death, suicidal thoughts, gore, infection, arson, and apocalypse-typical violence

continued au notes and commentary here (spoilers)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since the initial zombie outbreak, you’ve been running around the country with your best friend Ike and the circle of close friends you both share. You’ve made peace with the fact that it will always be hard. You and your band hop around from town to wilds, with no real objective other than to survive. Every location has something to glean, after all. It’s just that the zombies are always on your tail, and there’s only so much looting to do before the chorus of dead can tear you and your family apart.

It’s deluded to pretend you’re the invulnerable main characters, though. You and your friends are in a townhouse currently being ambushed by a strain of zombies. You swear they’ve gotten more intelligent since your last encounter. A dense herd of bloodthirsty undead is one thing, but a dense herd of bloodthirsty undead that have a chance of understanding positioning is another. Closing doors is barely a second of relief now. 

You were lucky to be in a room with Vox when you got ambushed. He lived his post-apocalyptic life with a rebar rod in his hand, wrested from a collapsed concrete building early in during the initial outbreak. He claimed to be a trained swordsman once, and even though the rebar was more of a club than a sword, you admit you would’ve been worse than dead if you didn’t have him by your side. You’re sure he’d be screwed without you, too. Now that the world’s gone to the dogs, you stay prepared with a pair of climbing picks that can clobber in zombie brains just as well as scale walls. Vox shoved zombies out of the way while your picks cleared a path to escape from the house out through the window, Vox in tow.

You and Vox reunite with Ike and Shu outside. The former keeps various kitchen knives hidden under his no-longer white mantle, and defends Shu from stragglers while he digs into his backpack. You notice his weapon, an iron fire poker, by his feet along with a bottle. He rips sheets off of an old Millwall brick to stuff inside the bottle.

“Blowing the place up,” Shu says, in case you didn’t make the connection already. His breath is ragged. “Where’s Luca and Mysta?”

Like a stage cue, you hear the rocket of gunfire the second he says it. Your hope is crushed. Noise attracts zombies, and Luca was the only one with a shotgun. If he pulled the trigger, the situation was even more dire than you thought. 

Shu grits his teeth and repeats himself, intensity barely restrained. “Where is Luca and Mysta.”

“I’m going back in,” Vox declares.

Ike drives a knife into the head of a fallen body. Destroying the brain confirmed they wouldn’t regenerate, and he minimizes the risk as precise as a surgeon. He made short work of the zombies that hadn’t overrun the house yet, but you could see them flood the interior. “Don’t be stupid, Vox, that’s suicide.”

“You heard the gun!”

“And I said that’s suicide!”

“Not if someone goes back in!”

“How are you going to find them without getting yourself killed?” Vox opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and Ike took advantage of it. “That’s what I thought. Luca’s our muscle and Mysta’s a clever guy, you’ve seen him outsmart the zombies so many times before!”

“They know basic organization, Ike!”

“All the more reason not to go back in! Have some faith in your friends!”

Vox grants him an unholy leer through his haunting yellow eyes. “How dare you lecture me about faith when I’m trying to save their lives.”

His glare was lost. Ike focuses on confirming the dead stay dead. His back is turned from the swordsman as he chops a skull in two with a butcher’s cleaver. “Because no matter what, they’re going to get out, and they want you out just as much as they’re fighting.”

But Ike’s words were just as lost to Vox; you barely saw the trail of his blood-splattered haori before he ran back to the townhouse, rebar in hand and fury on display.

Shu shoves the remains of the Millwall brick into the cupholder of his pack, a battering ram for another day. He produces a box of matches instead. “It’s best to take them all out at once.”

You speak up. “But Vox just-”

“I know.” Shu’s lips purse. “And I’m not going to throw them. Not until I know they’re all safe.”

You watch as Vox speared through a living corpse, then threw its remains on the ground. The zombies are centered inside the house, but the windows are all covered. The door stays open as he passes through the threshold, but you can’t see a trace of him left.

Ike stabs through a brain close to you and Shu. You see him heft himself up, and the traces of a permanent dead remain on the ground. The head is split open with precision, and the brain blooms out from the skull. It leaks pink nerves and black rot among the blood, like a disgusting flower. 

He passes by you, dead set on his goal. “You’re not going, Reader.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“And don’t expect to.” Ike’s words are emotionless, but not cold. As much as he pushes away Vox, you know he cares for everyone in your group like brothers. He’s the least risky out of all six of you- after all, he’s tearing apart zombie brains without a complaint while you catch your breath and Shu stands watch.

You draw your climbing picks and follow him to the field of dead. “Let me help you.”

You feel useless just standing there, after all.

Though the task of confirmation is much calmer than fighting for your life, it’s still unenviable, and you have to admire how Ike distances himself seemingly so easily from it. You try not to look at their faces, but that’s just as impossible. After all, the brain is right between the eyes. That’s the worst part. 

You made the mistake of looking into zombie eyes twice in your life. 

The first was your first fight of the apocalypse; a zombie had you deadlocked in an aisle of an outdoors store, and only when it was within biting range did you drum up the courage to grab the first thing you saw- two fluorescent orange climbing picks, never used- and drive them into the writhing heart. You bolted then, too focused on escape than freezing, and those climbing picks proved themselves to be your best survival tool in combat and exploration. 

The second was the first time you confirmed the dead, and those eyes, that face- skin and bone but youthful, blue bleeding through the iris like a cracked yolk, remains of eyeliner and mascara along her deteriorated features- she was a person, so young, so beautiful when she was alive, like she knew she had decades to go- sometimes you swear she’s the face you see at night when you remember how human and how simply unlucky this world is now. It’s simply unlucky, and being unlucky is simply brutal. 

(You held back your tears when you bashed her brain in. Later that night you pulled your best friend Ike aside, and cried in mourning of a woman whose name you never learned. He didn’t complain then, either, and you only sobbed harder when you realized as much as he comforted you, he could never muster up the vulnerability to grieve himself.)

You club a pick into the forehead of the fresh, putrid dead. The other pries it open, and a third swipe pulverizes with finality. 

It’s messy. When you drive your weapons into the skull there’s a crack of metal against bone, and a thin gush of blood that spurts out to your arms. Especially large openings reveal nodules of black rot spotted through the brain. If you focus, you can see the moist, moldy texture seep through the wrinkles of the brain, and if you were any less jaded it’d be enough to make you turn your head and hurl. 

But the deed is done in only three stabs, and you cling onto that fact. The more mechanical the task is, the easier it is to drive yourself to just get it done. Club, pry, pulverize. Club, pry, pulverize. 

You pass by one of Ike’s carvings as you move onto another body. His work is premeditated from habit; he usually does this deed while everyone else recuperates. A standard chef’s knife is his weapon of choice when he faces against zombies, but he keeps a cleaver sheathed to his side when he has the time to get precise. One good slash goes through bone. Bone sweeps through the brain, and the work is done, and he carries on to the next, messy on his mantle but clean in the cut.

There are only a few more bodies left untouched on the yard where you hear heavy steps on the grass and Shu’s voice cry out. “Luca!”

You and Ike snap up. Luca’s blond hair is matted to his face with blood and rot as Vox runs beside him. They look like they ran through a blender of decayed flesh, and considering the herd of dead inside the house, perhaps that isn’t so strange of a metaphor. Even as Luca sprints, he turns to pump shotgun lead to the predators when they get closer, and each corpse’s fall is punctuated by hot gunfire.

Shu calls out his name again frantically. The men return, and so do you and Ike, five missing one. “Luca, where’s Mysta?”

“It’s bloody,” Luca simply says. His breath is short, and he wipes at the mess of gore and hair on his forehead. All it accomplishes is smearing black and red together along his face and in a blotch along his arm. 

“But where is he, I need to know!”

“And it’s so much.” He trails off. He stares into the side of the townhouse and beyond the distance. Strapped to his back is his go-to weapon, a baseball bat littered with nails, each with residue dripping off the spikes from freshly killed zombies. “There’s a lot. Oh, I’m feeling kind of- kind of cold.”

“He’s in shock,” Ike says. He takes Luca’s hand in his, but Luca doesn’t even react. “Oh, Luca. What happened?”

“Kind of a lot?”

“Where’s Mysta?”

“He…” Luca’s eyes dart to the center of the townhouse. “He’s stuck, because of me, isn’t he?”

“Alright, lay off the man.” Vox intervenes. “We’re done asking questions. Shu. Your matches. Light it up.”

“What?!” Shu screams at Vox. You’ve heard him yell, but never once have you heard him scream. Especially not with Vox sounding so detached. “No, are you crazy? Mysta is in there!”

“Light it up, Shu-“

“I said, no! No! No way, not a- not a fucking chance!”

“Shu, listen to me!” Vox thunders. “I’m sorry, but Mysta is gone.”

Shu stands his ground. His features are tense, and his ultraviolet eyes burn holes through the earth. “Not a fucking chance.”

“Mysta is gone,” Vox insists, and you hear his bassy voice break even lower. “I saw it myself.”

“He is not.”

“It was too overrun, it’s miraculous Luca even got out.”

“Mysta,” Luca says, and closes his eyes. Ike holds him upright and rubs his arm, as comforting as he possibly can in the worst situation, as much as possible when his own face is just as distraught as everyone else.

“And I wish with everything that I have that I could’ve gotten him out,” Vox continues, more of his own justification than anyone else. “And I wish I was just a little faster, and that they were a little further away, and, God, that he wasn’t trapped, but he was, and I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t close enough…”

Shu is murmuring his own protests to himself at this point, and feeling the pit in your stomach yourself, you reach to hold his hand. He jerks away like you’re made of lava. You feel ill. “You’re lying to me.”

“And he got bit, and he knew that meant death. And he ran, ran upstairs, to draw them away from us, and there were more, and he knew, he knew, he knew he was dead but we weren’t.”

Luca lets his head fall on Ike’s chest. Ike becomes his crutch, and holds him. “Mysta.”

“His distraction saved Luca’s life. And mine if I was slow.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He was a hero,” Vox says.

“Stop.” Shu’s eyes shut. He looks like stone about to break, paralyzed in denial as the proper grief is setting in. His hands dive and clasp around yours. He’s trembling. You squeeze back. “Don’t talk about him like he’s dead.”

“He was a hero, and our brother, and the sun. Please don’t devalue his sacrifice like that.”

“Oh my god.” Ike interrupts, and his face is paler than the dead. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Luca, don’t look.”

With one hand, he buries Luca’s head into the fabric of his mantle, and with the other, he points to the tallest point of the townhouse. 

You crane your neck up and squint. The townhouse has one window peeking out from the room along one small wall. When you recognize the shapes through the window your legs nearly give out. Startling, saturated, unadulterated horror grips you. You see his hat.

“He’s still alive,” you whisper. “Or he rose. But he’s still surrounded.”

With revived desperation Vox grasps Shu by the shoulders. “Don’t devalue his sacrifice, Shu, you know better than anyone he never wanted to fall victim to that curse. Let him and the rest of the zombies pass on properly, like a hero should. Light the match, please. Please.”

You absorb the chaos as if you weren’t there. You’re detached. Nothing feels real, not even as Ike strokes Luca’s hair, distressed and staring at the window, while Luca is just as distanced as you are. Vox’s heroic resolve shattered as he recounted Mysta’s last moments, and Shu, the smart one out of your group, can’t even function anymore. You knew everyone considered themselves each other’s family, but Shu and Mysta were especially close, and it tears you apart to watch Shu finally grasp the terror of the townhouse ambush. 

Shu lets go of your hands to cover his face. Through the gaps between bloodstained gloves, you can see the sparkle of tears. He’s crying. “This isn’t possible.”

“Do the right thing,” you say. “Do what he would’ve wanted.”

Shu stands so still. He looks up to the sky, as if it could all go back just by an hour. The clouds just kept rolling. 

He picks up a bottle and lights a match.

“This can’t be happening.” A teardrop nearly flicks out the match, but he gathers his strength, and places it by the newspaper wick. The paper flares alive in caution orange.

Shu breathes in. You see his face is scrunched up from crying even as he tries to aim, and it’s like he’s aged years in a matter of minutes. His face has never truly been clean of dirt or gore in weeks, just like the rest of you, but even under the orange fire his eyes go dull. There’s weight under his eyelids, and his mouth is forced into a tight, shaky frown as he exhales.

“I’m so sorry.” Even when it was a zombie Shu always apologized before killing. He treats it as a blessing of what they once were. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry it had to be this way.”

Shu throws the molotov. 

You lose track of Mysta’s silhouette as the townhouse goes up in flames.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The death of Mysta Rias was the death of the sun, and the world has been even drearier than the desolate land would have you think. 

Everyone lives on edge frostily. It’s barely been a month since he passed, but the wound hesitates to close. 

Ike is maybe the best adapted to your band of six now as five, but even then you can tell he’s not the same. He’s a champion of reservation. Every sweep of his knives into dead flesh are purposeful, every word spoken is calculated. 

You think back on that night you cried in Ike’s arms the first time you confirmed the dead. You still haven’t seen him cry. Strange, since he was the type to get emotional at sappy movies and video games before the first outbreak. You’re worried, but he insists he can keep it together. To be fair, he’s doing an excellent job at not having a conniption, but the way that he acts so much more emotionally distant isn’t exactly inspiring confidence either.

But Vox, for all he puffs himself up about making sure no man gets left behind and all that heroic junk, hesitates far more than his honed swordsmanship would have you think now that Mysta’s gone. It hasn’t gotten in the way of surviving yet, but you have to wonder when it will. He’s gotten indecisive and requires time to think- great for planning, not so much for a live-or-die fight. 

Luca’s the one that surprises you. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him happy when your band of friends started roaming the country together, but he was good natured, and was the first to pick himself up from a bad scrape. He had a sly, sideways curve to his lips whenever he laughed, but it’s been so long since you’ve heard it that you’re starting to forget the way his skin curves into smile lines. 

He doesn’t smile at all, really. As optimistic Luca was, it was no secret Mysta was the other half of the laughter in your group, and now that Mysta was gone the morale was as well. Luca keeps up his positive attitude as much as he can but it’s rare, and it’s quiet when you see it. 

You notice whenever someone lights the campfire, he’s never around to watch it, and no one makes him do it. You don’t think anyone’s ever talked about it out loud, nor has he ever let himself show it. But when he turns around to feel the warmth, Vox is always to his front, blocking off the bright blazes, and sits by him while he cooks game. You have a theory Vox hasn’t given up his hero complex yet, but for as tense as he gets by the fire Luca hasn’t had a breakdown yet either. Unless things change, you won’t bring it up. Your group has never experienced a loss quite like this in the zombie apocalypse, and all things considered, for as awful as the morale it could be much, much worse.

Speaking of much worse, Shu…

He was a wreck when Mysta passed away, and that’s putting it lightly. When you ran from the remains of the burning townhouse and into a forest, your footfalls were punctuated by Shu’s shortened breaths, and he held back hiccups as you left Mysta behind. By the time Vox figured you were safe from the horde and Ike’s feet gave out from exhaustion, Shu’s eyes were shut tight in disbelief. 

You barely uttered a word to him before he fell back into sobs, and when you offered a hand he threw himself to you. It was disorienting. You always considered Shu the face of serenity and restraint even in your lives before the apocalypse, and after the outbreak he was always the one that could find the best path to follow for the greater good of all six of you. But now there were only five, and the grief was fresh.

But Shu howled. He clawed himself against your chest in inconsolable wails, and his face was contorted, sore and raw red in splotches of unmuted primality, nearly unrecognizable. There was an animal in your arms. Agonized. 

“It’s not possible,” he heaved. His articulation was lost in his eruption. “It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be!”

You didn’t have any words to say, and clearly Shu didn’t either. He howled again as his bestial hands clutched around your arm. Nails dug through his gloves and into your skin, and if he clutched you any tighter he’d tear the flesh off the bone straight, a creature of despair. Screaming and howling, and soon enough he was choking on his own spit and the block of mourning in his throat, some ugly peals of tears and snot, and the remains of rot on his hands and blood against the hollows of his ghastly cheek; the ash left in his lungs and the smoke that lingered in his hair, and the flames that licked through his fingers and inside the bottle and outside the glass; the blazes that ate through the wood of the house, the very same hue as his brother’s favorite shirts, his hat, flickering a cycle of brightness and color and roiling heat until he knew the fire had swallowed up what remained of Mysta.

Shu had no choice but to scream. When his throat took away that privilege he mustered up what he could of his vocal chords and churned. All his mouth went dry but he still smacked his tongue against his gums and huffed out seethings and surges of thin breath through gritted teeth, more akin to wheezing than anything else he’d howled but the pure distress gone untouched.

He eventually exhaled himself into an uneasy sleep, but even in sleep his face was still struck with suffering. Rest was more like a pause to a realized horror than it was a reprieve. You and Ike cleaned him up and laid him sideways on the ground for the night- after all, it had been an awful day, and as the moon rose in the sky you know you wouldn’t be getting anywhere after the horrible events, much less with an unconscious Shu.

Luca spent the rest of his day detached from his own experience, even after the shock wore off. When Shu’s composure broke, Vox had attended to Luca, and they quietly wept together while Shu bawled. By the time Shu began to rest, Luca looked into the ground, water bottle in hand.

Vox approached you while Ike started a fire and prepared some rations for the rest of the group. “He’s not taking things awfully, but I’m concerned for him,” he said. “Luca, I mean.”

“I know you mean Luca,” you responded. You couldn’t hide your own exhaustion from the day either. 

“As much as I hate to say it, Shu freaking out was to be expected. He and- and Mysta- those two- they were so close. And Luca, too. I thought he would freak out like Shu, but hell, Reader, I cried more than him. I know I get emotional and he’s better at keeping it down than me, but…”

Vox’s eyelids fluttered as he looked up at the dark sky. His eyes were red. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. It’s not like him.”

“Well, living without-” Your exhaustion dragged down your sentence before you could finish it. You thought you were well-adjusted to the death, but your voice caught before you could utter his name. You cleared your throat. “Living like this. There’s going to be a lot of weird changes, and everyone mourns differently.”

“I suppose you’re right.” But Vox didn’t look too pleased to hear that. “We need to protect him.”

“He does plenty of protecting himself. And we look out for each other regardless.”

“Then we should look out for him especially.”

“Of course. I don’t want him to get overexerted.”

“And let’s tap out of any interaction if we can, including looting. Last thing we need is to get into another big fight with the zombies, or worse yet, other survivors.”

“Avoiding fights has always been our M.O.” A chilled breeze ran through the forest. Vox fiddled with his haori. You stared right through him. “Sorry if this comes across as weird. But do you really think laying low is a good idea?”

“It’s dangerous to let anything interfere with us.”

“We’re in the zombie apocalypse, Vox, everything is dangerous. It’s not like I can just wave a wand and poof, we’re immune from the plague. Besides, we’re just two out of s- out of five. We’ll figure it out when it’s not so late, and Luca and Shu are in working condition.” You squinted. “Hey. Enough about them for a second. Has anyone ever asked you if you’re okay, Vox?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Is now. How are you holding up?”

“What, do you want me to lie to your face? No one’s doing well.” He averted his eyes, and you knew he was averting the question. “I could ask you the same thing. Shu was intense.”

“Tired,” you said. “Just plain tired. I don’t even think I have the energy to properly grieve.” And just like the man standing before you, you averted your eyes as well. “I don’t think I want to either. I don’t know. I miss him a lot, but I don’t have the time to miss him. Not when the apocalypse is literally unfolding in front of us and there’s people taking the brunt of the loss way harder than I am. I wish I could give him the remembrance he deserves.”

Vox nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything in response, and the silence made you feel like you aged hundreds of years in his presence. 

“You’re very observant, Reader,” he finally said. “And you spend a lot of time making your own conclusions before you act. That’s smart. But knowing too much prevents you from action, full stop.”

Campfire smoke curls around the chilly air and by Vox’s face. His head was still angled up to look at the sky, and the orange glow against his sharp features weathered him into a dreary oil painting. There was a gash between his cheek and ear where a tree branch hooked him while he evaded a zombie’s grapple, and the light illuminated the soft pink flesh exposed under the cut of skin. The corner of the gash met his thoughtful frown. “Every moment of life teaches you something. I’m wondering when it’ll be too much and we simply can’t go on the way we used to.”

“Might be soon.”

“Today definitely sped it along.”

The fire crackled. You and Vox sat there unmoving, too focused on the blaze and how controlled it was compared to the townhouse. 

Even as the tinder burns, your thoughts were still so awry now that the group got smaller. Vox had a point about Luca. You needed to keep an eye out on him in case he’s putting on a brave front. Even then, you didn’t like how Vox deflected your concern, but prodding him would only make it worse, especially when the loss was so fresh. 

Your thoughts drifted to Ike, and how you haven’t managed to share a word with him at all since the townhouse burning. He hasn’t cried, you recall, not a single time since the first outbreak. You admired his composure but now that Vox admitted his own fears for the others (and neglected to tell you the ones about himself), you can’t help the unease that settled into your stomach. What were his thoughts like? Everything went off the rails whenever you tried to collect yourself, but if Ike was able to keep it all under wraps, then his mind must be a storm.

Speak of the devil. Ike hands Luca a small can of beans, but the blond stayed by his lonesome. Your best friend took the empty seat beside you, and gives you and Vox your dinner.

You thanked him, and after savoring what little you had of your portion, you asked how he’s doing.

“Just gotta get through another day,” Ike responded. 

Then he tipped the last of his beans into his mouth and stared at the fire, just as you did after talking with Vox. He was unreadable as ever, but the only thing you could glean from him with confidence is that he had just as much on his mind as you thought. Maybe even more.

You wished he would just tell you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

But grass grows over graves, and even if Mysta didn’t have a proper send off, time waits for no one. 

Once Shu woke up, his face was a mess of bleariness and exhaustion. Something in his bright eyes froze over during the night. Amethyst faded to plastic. 

“We’ll keep moving,” he declared, and his voice chilled you to the core. He called out the order as a leader, not a friend, without the care or delicacy he always granted to your group. His emotion died with Mysta. 

(And you saw Vox ready himself to refute, but once he met those purple eyes filled with something unearthly, he shank under Shu’s presence.)

Days pass. All of them are spent on the road. The group spends as little time resting as possible just to get a few extra miles out to your next destination. 

Shu and Luca say it’s to get away, but they end the sentence differently. Shu says to get away from the zombies. Luca doesn’t finish his thought at all. 

It’s no surprise that Vox opposes it. The more distance between the group and the townhouse, the more he speaks his mind. 

But Shu is determined to go further, just as much as Vox is convinced everyone needs to lay low.

And in all the time you’ve known these men, you’ve never seen any of them fight against one another quite like this. Vox always concedes, but not before Shu spits venom and he flings it right back. Their words are always about the plan, their future, where the group is going and why don’t they wait out the zombies instead of these hourly skirmishes on the road; but everyone can tell there’s more lying in subtext than the literal argument. You’ve seen the way Vox grits his teeth and musters up his courage whenever he’s about to tell Shu off, and you know that disgusted glare Shu gives Vox whenever he brings up hiding from the zombies.

Ike usually ends up being the one to break up their fights. One dismal evening while he lectured them both about teamwork and other platitudes, you and Luca sat next to each other. He’s a big guy, but he’s lost a lot of weight from rationing, and his expression looks like an abandoned dog more often than not these days.

He talks quietly, but plainly. “Shu hates me, doesn’t he?”

“What?” The bluntness startles you. “Luca, listen to yourself. He could never.”

“He could.”

“He wouldn’t,” you insist. “He’s gone through a lot, and he’s not taking it well, but I know it’s always because he wants to protect you. All of us.”

“So is Vox. But he just shuts him down without a thought. You ever wonder why, Reader?”

“To get away from the zombies,” you recite. That’s always his reasoning. Staying put in one place just means more time for zombies to gather at the scent of the living.

“So would finding a secure shelter, like how Vox says.” Luca sits with his knees close to his chest, and watches from a distance at the quelled fight. Vox says something, and you can see Shu’s face contort even though you can’t hear what he says. “But he doesn’t even listen to him. He doesn’t even listen to you, Reader, when you try to break it up.” He holds his legs closer to himself. “I don’t know if he’s ever listened to me. Or anyone.”

“He would if you told him you feel like that. He’d understand.”

“Would he really?” You nearly answer that before you realize the question is rhetorical. “You’ve got eyes, Reader. Be attentive like how I know you always are and look at how he looks at us. Me and Vox.”

You try to follow Luca’s request but Ike is speaking, and Shu’s eyes close.

He elaborates. “It’s not a nice look.”

“He’s stressed.”

“Then why doesn’t he ever look at you like that? Or even better, why does he listen to Ike only, and how come it never seems to stick?”

“He’s going through a lot.”

“We all are.”

Across the camp, you watch Ike run a hand through his hair. Shu is still talking, and Vox sighs.

“I think he blames us.”

You grab Luca’s arm. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s obvious anyways.”

“Because that’s our friend.”

“He hasn’t acted like one for a long time.”

“Because he’s lost so much.”

“We were all friends,” Luca snaps. “We lost just as much. Hell! I was in the house! We were together! And then we got separated, and unlike someone Vox actually tried to help him out until- and I should’ve- we saw him get bit, and I couldn’t- I just, I-”

Luca shuts himself up. Your hand falls from his arm to his palm and squeezes. No life returns your gesture. 

You sit in the stagnant silence. 

“I’m sorry.” Luca lowers his head. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Get it off your chest, Luca. I won’t hurt you.”

“No, I don’t think I should.” He unwraps his legs, and stands up from the ground beside you. “I’m not going to say it and be an awful friend, even if he’s acting like one.”

Before you could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Luca already turned his back, and you sat alone from the argument as he walked away from everything.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Despite all their bickering, Shu and Vox lead the group through travel. It’s more likely that the bickering is the exact reason why. The fire iron and rebar push aside the greenery, until Vox stops with his rebar casting the brush aside. “Fucking finally.”

You catch up and look across the hill. Buildings. This used to be a small rest town in a clearing between the hills before the outbreak, but now the bright signs are dimmed out and dirtied. Not a soul lurks in the abandoned town, including the dead. 

“We’re not stopping,” Shu says.

“Piss off, Shu. I’m tired.”

“You’re never going to be well-rested.”

“Then how does safe sound?”

“Not possible no matter where you go.”

“But safer than on the road-”

“Guys,” Ike interrupts. “Quit acting like toddlers.”

Vox pouts and Shu squints. None of the three want to get the next word in.

So you speak up instead. “We’re running out of supplies. If we don’t find any more food soon, then we won’t even be able to continue on the road.”

“Reader has a point,” Ike agrees.

Shu’s expression sours. “Fine. We’ll look around, but make it quick. Camping out here is a great way to get robbed.”

“Then we’ll move together and keep watch for one another,” Vox declares, and he smiles. “Welcome to the correct side, Reader, Ike. It’s good to have you on board.”

Ike rolls his eyes. “Don’t drag me into your petty fights.” You fight the urge to quip he’s already in the mess as the mediator.

But the group traverses the hills and enters the remains of the town. The ground is littered with garbage strewn about in the haste for its citizens to flee town- or for the ill-fated, become the corpses dragging along the cement. 

The zombies here shamble along independent from one another. That’s the best you could ask for. The only consistent thing about zombie behavior is their danger when in swarms. Alone, they’re nothing but fetid flesh barely clinging onto the skeleton, ready to fall into a hundred pieces at one strike, but when accompanied by others? Fodder makes up for each others’ weaknesses, and no matter how competent or skilled you are, one human is nothing to a crowd of zombies on the warpath. 

The zombies of this town haven’t synced up with one another, and you’d like to keep it that way. While on the road, you’ve had plenty of skirmishes with small groups of zombies, but the last time your band faced off against a proper herd, you lost one. 

A single zombie clambers to the front of your group. You hear metal against fabric as Ike pulls out his cleaver from its sheath, ready to do the deed, but before he can advance Shu already has his fire poker in his hands and the business end driven through the eyes of the zombie. He twists, assuring the brain is too punctured to allow the body to rise again, and the poker is back at rest. He barely even apologizes to the body as everyone trudges on.

Behind his back, Ike resheathes his weapon. He squints through his glasses, and you can read the confusion between his green eyes. Ike doesn’t meet your glance, but his expression is welcome, as unfortunate as it is. At least you’re not the only one that noticed how out of character Shu has been lately. You’re getting a sinking feeling about him.

However, the moment passes as soon as it appeared, and you and the rest of your friends rove onwards until you come across a set of stairs erring into the earth, surrounded by a dirtied glass entrance. 

“Who would’ve thought?” You wonder aloud. “I never would’ve guessed this little town had a subway system.”

Vox raises his hand along the cool glass. “This could be good. The entrance is camouflage pretty well considering the damage of this town, and there might be some preserved food in vending machines. All we need to do is break ‘em.”

“And if there isn’t any food, it’s still a big area,” Ike adds. “Plenty of space and a roof over our heads.”

Luca looks down the staircase. It’s dark, but not unnavigable. The edges of the sidewalk are lined with yellow paint stripes, and features small lights along the walls from a backup generator, most likely. “It’s a good hiding place,” he says.

Luckily for everyone, Shu can already tell he’s defeated, and doesn’t put up much of a fight before you all descend down the stairs. 

Not even ten minutes later Luca found a vending machine and smashed it apart with his spiked bat. Vox unwrapped a pack of Oreos with a smug smile. 

The subway was no longer in operation and the trains themselves were abandoned, but you found a sign with a map of the station. The subway connected the major areas of the town together, and could be used as secret passages through the ruins.

And most interesting, there were even less zombies underground than under the sun. 

“I wonder if the stairs confused them?” Luca says to himself. “Surely a few of them figured it out, since we killed some since we entered the subway, but it might be too complex for herds to come through. Or the architecture itself is confusing.”

You weren’t about to question it. This was one of the most peaceful environments you’ve entered since the outbreak, and there was no way you would ignore the moment to catch your breath, even if you can still cut through the tension with a knife. 

You enter first watch with the drifting bond between everyone on your mind, and when Ike relieves you for his watch, you fall asleep in record time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

An arm jostles you awake. “Reader. Wake up, zombies.”

You curse, albeit a little groggily, but in a flash you’re on your feet. You thumb under your sleeping pad and grab your climbing picks. “I thought we were safe?”

“Not at all.” Your eyesight adjusts after you start walking, but you can already recognize the voice as Ike. Out of the corner of your eye you can spot Shu trying to shake Luca awake, and Vox gathering everyone’s things together. “They’re flooding in fast. Herds of them. Like they’re all on the same wavelength.”

“Like the townhouse.”

It dawns on you and you say it without thinking. Ike’s shoulders freeze over. “Don’t say that. Not so loudly.”

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

“Get your things together. They’re not here yet, but they will be soon, around the corner we came.”

Vox approaches halfway through zipping a backpack together. “We should take the next right corridor. I remember that leads to a different exit.”

“You sure it’s not the same one the zombies are coming in through?” You ask.

“Positive.”

“We need to stay ahead of the herd,” Shu said, Luca in tow. “No fighting unless absolutely necessary. If we get started now we should be able to get away without overexerting ourselves. Ready?”

No words need to be exchanged. You leave the clearing just as you found it. 

A collected groan follows behind you, and a chill runs down your spine. You’ve never heard so many zombies, and never so man all in harmony. The moans arrange together in the cavernous halls, bouncing off the cement and down the station. 

The urgency rises once the cries grow closer. Vox breaks out in a run, then Luca, and Shu behind him. 

“Right,” Vox calls, and dives at the turn. A zombie greets him. He drives his rebar into its head and flings it away without a second thought like a lancer. 

The zombie smashes against a sight with arrows to different stations. Ike swerves out of the way. “Fork ahead, where now?”

“Right? I mean-” He goes one way to view a sign, then sprints the other. “Straight! Straight!”

The dead sing. You can’t think to look back but the smell of rot is suffocating.

Your foot falls under the concrete ground in time with your family, and in time with the stumbling zombies approaching faster than you’ve ever felt before. 

Luca halts in his tracks, and you thump against his back. Your mouth parts to speak but your eyes fall upon the exit.

Or rather, the lack of exit.

Boulders of broken concrete hide the stairwell from daylight.

Hot breath strangles you, and you turn with your picks in hand. Swathes of the dead are fixated on your group. 

Ike runs straight-on to the choir. You scream out as one reaches for him before he turns at the last fork in the road.

You cut your scream off halfway when you follow him without a second thought. 

A hand covered in dirt and mold grasps against the sleeve of your jacket. You swivel and sink your pick into the limb, and the wrist pops off under your blade. The hand goes limp and falls from the fabric.

You hear footsteps behind you, and when Luca speaks up you’re full of relief even if only for a moment. “What now?”

“Just run,” You say back, more of a guess than an order.

Shu drifts in front of you. “Where are we?”

“Give me a moment, I’m trying to think!”

“We don’t have time, Vox!”

“I know, Shu, shut up!”

“Going left!” Ike shouts, and you all move without question. 

But you realize only after the zombies cut away the turn that the station turns more decrepit on this side. The tunnels are lined with debris and the floor crumbles away along the painted stripes. 

And before you can find a new route, you see a puff of dust from the ceiling.

“The roof!” You shout. You’re gasping to breathe now, and your words stumble upon the exhale. 

Shu’s eyes roll up to the flickering light, and you both see the elongated crack above your heads. It’s been in decay for years. How unlucky. How simply, brutally, lethally unlucky.

“Hurry!” He pleads. He’s at the front of the pack, followed by Vox and Luca alongside each other. Ike trails behind you. 

The crack in the roof follows your every footstep even as ancient instinct kicks in. Adrenaline shoots through your veins and pushes you forward, accompanied by bits of debris tangling in your hair. The flooring turns from concrete to tile, and with the dirtied mosaic comes a glimmer of hope. Surely you must be going the right way.

The zombies’ cries are loud, but the squeak of your shoe against the tiles is louder. There must be something beyond.

But the ceiling splintering out is the loudest of all.

It all happens at once:

The way that Shu turns at the sound and can’t even get one of his own out before he sees your face-

The powdered cement turning to hail in the blink of an eye-

Your war cry through gritted teeth as you launch off, the fastest you’ve ever run before-

A knife unsheathed in in warmth and frigidity in your midst-

Luca, hated, blamed, petrified. 

Your brain catches up through the curtain of scrap. It’s all because of Luca. Even at his most vulnerable, you’ve never thought of him as weak. Nonetheless, his eyes are dead purple crusted against his ghost-white face, and his lips force open while a vein along his neck strains to scream out your name, but he lets out just one small, throaty heave. A miserable noise.

It silences you. 

You know it, and he does too. A chunk of ceiling drops mere inches from your last step. Vox approaches, calls out your name before he’s even comprehended the truth before him. You see the dark in his pale eyes tighten into a thin reptilian pupil and he reaches out in desperation.

The last of the ceiling shatters. A broken crag hammers into his palm instead. All you hear is Shu finally get out the scream before the remains of the underground roof shuts you out from your family.

The dead rises in volume. The glimmer of hope evaporates.

You force yourself against the barricade, but your weight is no match for the pile of rubble, and you watch the zombies shamble forward with your back against the wall. The only person you have left brushes plaster away from his eyes with one arm and brandishes a knife in the other.

Ike Eveland looks like hell alive. 

It would almost be hilarious if you weren’t facing a subterranean grave. His face is dirtied with mud and rubble, and the legs of his trousers are matted in blood, rot, and dirt, but even then, this is still your best friend. The years you’ve spent alongside him blend together. His once-delicate hands now bear countless scars from travel and fights, but the contours of his face are recognizable even through the dust that mars his skin. 

This is an unwinnable situation. You’re locked in checkmate, but Ike stands next to you.

You speak. “No more exits, right?”

Ike swipes at his face again, and the sleeve of his mantle comes back grayer than before. “I think we both know how this ends, Reader.”

“Yeah. I do.”

You both watch the leading zombie shuffle one foot forward, and each of its followers mimic the motion. 

You notice Ike’s hand against his face out of the corner of your eye. Then how his shoulders jerk up for a moment, before setting themselves in place, stony and rigid. 

His words break your heart. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither.”

“I wish I could refuse all this- all this-” 

He sniffs. 

You move without thinking, and your mind is set. You wrap your arms around Ike. 

He doesn’t even raise his hands. He just leans against your shoulder lifelessly, and lets the tears fall. 

You rub his back as he hiccups into your shirt. How long has he been keeping this locked up? You ache for him and all his repression as his body goes limp against yours, the only thing keeping him standing. 

“It’ll be okay.” That’s only a lie you can hope is the truth. “After all this. We’ll be okay. Shu and Vox and Luca, too. It’s a straight shot now that all the zombies are on us.”

“I’m going to miss you. All of you.”

“We’re together.”

“I’m sorry this is how it ends.”

“We still have options.”

He scoffs, even as his voice cracks through his quiet crying. “We’re trapped, Reader. There’s no way out.”

“We can still go out on our terms,” you say. You place your hand over his, the one that holds the knife. “Once we’re gone, the zombies are going to search for the other three.”

You squeeze one last time, and break away from the hug. You look upon the wave of dead flesh and rot, and draw your weapons. “I don’t want them to fight any more than they have to.”

“That’s hopeless.”

“It’s all I can do.”

“How are you so calm about this?”

“I’m not sure myself,” you admit. “It’s just that right now, I know I’m in a losing battle, and I accept that. But I don’t accept just laying down and dying like that.” 

Your climbing picks cross together as you ready your eerily still mind. The blades scrape against each other. Metal sings. “And I just want to handle things calmly. After all this time, I learned that from you.”

“I don’t know how you can just remember things like that when we’re about to die.”

“I suppose I only die on my own terms. Hey.”

Ike stumbles to his feet. His knife is pointed to the ground. With a tranquility that evaded you all throughout the apocalypse, you steady his posture and guide the blade up to the dead beyond.

Your hand rises up his arm as his eyes close, and he silently murmurs to himself. You rub his shoulder. “You good?”

Ike exhales. His body lowers as he does, and with the breath comes a relaxed posture. This is the most at peace he’s been since the outbreak strangled the past world. 

His eyelashes rise. Stormy green seas focus upon the staggering zombies. 

“No.” Ike’s lip trembles. But he’s set on the zombies ahead, and a bolt of lightning crosses through his eyes. “But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good man.”

“There’s about five of them leading the pack in that corner. We can pick them off and get some more breathing room.”

“Understood, Mr. Tactical.”

“Don’t call me that.” Under the exhaustion and the fear and the grittiness that comes with crying, you hear some of that classic, joking exasperation. You snicker to yourself, but the bittersweet smile remains. 

“Mr. Eveland, then.” Your sight hones in on one zombie to your right. Its jaw slides apart as it follows the scent of the fresh living. “It’s been an honor, Ike.”

“Likewise, Reader, we’ll do what we can.”

“Let’s go.”

At your command, you both launch off, laser-focused on the individual dead. 

Ike kicks a corpse down to knock it prone, then rakes his knife into the skull, and that’s all you can see before you throw yourself into the fray.

A one-on-one is simple. The zombie in front of you holds out a decrepit hand, perfect for your climbing pick to detach. It stumbles at the force and grants you an opening to clobber its brain in.

Rinse and repeat. 

You dive between the steps of your latest kills to divert attention in time to slay another and stay moving. The trick is to use gravity to your advantage. They aren’t smart enough to stand their ground, and when they inevitably fold from the pressure of your picks, it’s like the zombies present themselves for you can finish the job.

The next target swipes at you. You jut one pick down upon the corpse and one more meets the brittle skull. This gives you enough time to duck under a lunge, sweep the leg, and aim to kill. 

Something grabs your leg before you plunge the pick in. A body, dismembered from the waist up. 

You yelp as yellow-black teeth rise, and frantically kick. The zombie holds on tight, but when you regain your senses, it doesn’t even see the blade incoming before the soft brain squashes in. Splatters of gore and bits of chunky nerve endings sprays against your frame while your sweat mixes in with the stench of rot and muddy mildew.

You step back to reposition. Ike’s clothing is covered in blackened blood, and you watch him plunge his knife into the chests of whatever unfortunate beast approaches next. He twists and yanks out, then goes in for a final blow between the eyes. He has a rhythm established despite the shades of rot against his mantle and shirt. It almost looks routine. 

His next victim’s head rolls to the ground and breaks apart like porcelain. The brain is still in place, but the elongated gash through the nervous system confirms it would never rise again. 

But one gets the jump on Ike while his back is turned, and he yells out as he thrashes. He swivels on his heel. The zombie maneuvers around even as his hands push back in a fierce gridlock. It snaps its broken jaws in Ike’s face as it snarls, and sinks its claws in. Gunk travels through its saliva.  

“I got your back!” While Ike retreats, you trip the dead that crawls in front of you, and dash to his side. You drag your picks into the nape and back of the zombie’s head, and the creature goes limp just in time for Ike to shove it against the wall. 

Ike catches his breath, brushes his hand against his arm, and meets your concerned look with a nod in silent gratitude. “They’re gaining on us,” he says. “You don’t need to kill all of them, disabling them is fine!”

“Got it!”

But even that is easier said than done. There are so many zombies in the herd, it looks like you haven’t even left a dent, and your space is getting limited. You hack through the edges of the herd and pray that your wild swipes cut through a limb or two. 

“We’re losing turf!”

“Yeah, and I- gaah!”

Ike heaves. Your switch flips from ‘kill zombies’ to ‘check Ike’.

You follow his rasp to the corner of the room, where the ceiling crashed down. His back is pressed against the tiled wall, and he struggles to peel off his mantle. 

You don’t even need to ask. His hand clutches his arm, and the chunk of flesh missing from it. 

“Holy shit, Ike!” You can’t even mute yourself. Millions of warning bells go off in your head. The internals are coated in a dark membrane from where it meets the oxygen in the air, less red than it is purple, and his veins beside the mutilation rise in an ugly green. 

You reach your hands out as you rip off a cut of fabric from your sleeve. “No. No, this can’t be happening-“

He slaps your hand away before you can begin to bandage the blood loss, and immediately crumples. “Don’t do that! It’s the virus!”

“There’s no way it spreads that fast-“

“It will. I don’t want you to have that.” Ike sucks in air through his teeth as he sinks to the floor. 

“How did you even-“ you cut yourself off. “It was the zombie that jumped you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even notice the pain when it happened.” He curses in his native language. The green in his veins rise, and branches sprout from the veins under his graying skin, like tree bark. The rapid decay of the outbreak. “Oh, that’s not good.”

The din of the battle behind you is entirely forgotten as you focus on the uneven flesh, the imprint of the bite upon his mangled arm, how nearly every level of the wound has turned to the same rot of the zombies. 

Ike’s breathing is labored. The center of his shirt is soaked with the rot of those he killed, and rises and falls shakily. 

He smacks his lips, and you’re struck with the realization that talking is a strain. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

You crouch by his side and nod. 

“The sheath, on my belt,” he says. “Can you unfasten it?”

You comply without question even through your blurring eyes. I can’t refuse a request from a dead man, you think, and then the weight of your thought slams you. 

Ike’s unscathed hand rises from the wound, coated in slick purple gore, and brushes against the handles of his knives. The membrane pools together into beads along the handle. His fingers stop at the last slot in his sheath, and the tip of the cleaver is dyed in the beginnings of the rot. 

You think you’re about to vomit your heart out. 

“No.” Your voice wavers. “No. No, I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Ike comforts you, and you feel even more like trash. You should be the one comforting him instead. “I trust you.”

And that’s what gets the tears to spill out from your eyelashes. “But I can’t kill you.”

“You said it best earlier. Dying on your own terms, right?”

“But I can’t kill you.”

“I don't want to be one of them,” he admits. “Look around, Reader, we’re surrounded, and we both know there’s no way out. And being one of them, it’s unnatural. It’s just messed up. If I’m going to die, I want to know I’m at rest. None of this- whatever all this is.”

His head lolls to the side. “And I want to see Mysta again.”

The chorus of the dead accompanies Ike’s heavy breathing and your weeping. You are a helpless child. 

“I’ll help you,” Ike adds. “I’ll tell you how I usually confirm the dead. You’re my best friend. I trust you.”

It sickens you. 

You let out a puff of air as you draw your palm over your eyes. The gore across your face smears over with your tears. 

You take the cleaver in your hands. 

“Thank you.”

“You deserve better than this.”

“It’s the best we can do. I’m glad.”

“This is so fucked up.” You draw the cleaver with both hands, as if that would end the shaking. Even as you shut your eyes, you can’t get your resolve in place. 

“The trick is to be fast,” Ike says, and it disgusts you at how easily he says it. It disgusts you even more when you know the decay is spreading as he speaks, all the way into his raspy voice. “It’s all in the wrist. That’s what keeps it precise instead of clumsy. It’s where all the force is. Don’t swing wide. Just center it where you want to hit. How are you doing?”

“Not good.” Your breathing deepens, a last-ditch effort to remain calm. “I’m scared.”

You force your eyes open. The world floods in white, then falls into the blurred grays of the subway station. 

Ike is already so much worse for wear. The bite is entirely blackened, and the discolored skin stretches from his arm to his shoulder, creeping along what little you can see of his neck. 

His eyelids are shut, gentle aside from the furrow in his brow. 

“Me too.”

Even with his feigned nonchalance, there is so much sorrow laced between his words. 

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be safer,” Ike says, and even he doesn’t seem so convinced by it. “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you too.”

“You’ll always be my best friend.” 

You raise the cleaver. 

“Please tell Mysta I’m thinking of him. We all are, always.”

“We’ll be watching.”

Ike’s head is lowered, but you still see his attempt at a smile. 

You black out as you swing.

There is no memory left of his last moment. It’s all too much to bear. 

You cover your face, because looking at him is simply- just- too- much. Blood mixes in with your eyelashes, and you taste metal on your lips. 

You don’t even have the energy to scream, or cry, or do anything. You are a husk, and you do not hear Ike’s cleaver clatter to the floor. There is nothing. 

Your body moves without your command. You step back, and even though you refuse to look, you know you’re backing away from Ike. Your heart hammers, and so do your limbs. It spreads in droves, this pressure of heartbreak, constricting you and squeezing you apart.

Daggers fall into your skin. You snap out of your stupor. 

But once you identify the daggers as teeth, you wish you didn’t.

You tear your hands away from your face as a glob of rot (his rot, you realize, and you can’t even begin to wrap your head around that) flicks out in an arc. The hammering- it’s claws raking against your flesh and tearing you apart like meat.

While you accompanied Ike in his last moments, the outbreak stopped for no one, least of all you. You are no invulnerable main character. You blocked out the roaring chorus as he lay, but it continued outside of your little bubble, and with your back turned they absorbed the last of your free space for a perfect siege. 

You veer your head away out of instinct when the teeth pull away, and takes a bite of muscle out with it. The pain is blinding hot- you finally regain your voice in time to screech, but it drowns out through the zombie moans. 

A second set of jaws snaps you up. Already your head is spinning, and when you see the sinew from the corner of your vision you resist the urge to faint. If you take a look at the broken skin and extruding vine-veins again, you know you’re going to black out again, and never wake up. 

You force your sight to anything else. 

You make the mistake of looking into zombie eyes for the third time in your life. 

But this time you don’t retain the memory, either. Because for as little time you have left, how could you live knowing that your best friend’s peaceful green eyes snapped open in terror in his final moment? 

You choke out, and whether it’s from pain or grief or pure fear, you can’t even tell. Just that it all mixes together into a toxic blend, the poison of your undoing. 

And to think, you had the gall to meet such a grisly end head-on minutes ago. 

On the ground, next to his limp foot, the steel edge of Ike’s cleaver winks at you. 

It’s all in the wrist, he told you, and your blood burns into dust. But Ike is gone, now, and for as horrified as his melted remains were, he was certainly watching your every move. 

And the infection is unnatural, and climbs along your shoulder, and there is no agony in the world like this fate. 

And you wanted to see Mysta again. 

With the last of your strength you regain your legs, and kick off one zombie from your leg. It topples and gives you enough time to shake off another that has you grappled. 

The weight shift combined with your blood loss makes you hit the ground hard, but you scrape at the floor nonetheless. You are so weak, and you struggle, so focused on the glint of the blade that you ignore your skin crack apart like mud in a drought. 

You reach, bloodied and battered, and so close to rest. 

The washed light shines off the cleaver. Its reflection teases you as a monster snatches your foot and send you back into the horde like a toy. 

You emit your final scream, and that too dies as hundreds of hands hold you back. Your body and blood is swallowed by the herd of dead.

When you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the dark in your mind rearranges to replicate the cleaver. Then it flattens, and you see the haunted remains of Ike Eveland between it. 

The only sound left is teeth meeting bone. 

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

#ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland angst #luca kaneshiro #mysta rias #shu yamino #vox akuma #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #luxiem angst #4402 writes #bsprites #STEALTH PROTOMEN REFERENCE BABEY #this is a bit clumsy but i'm glad it was over 10k words i wonder if saying so much is just my style now #how much of a coinky dink is it that i was binging luca's twd streams and a bunch of southern gothic music when i was writing this #i'll post the full au notes i had operating tomorrow i think

[callsigndragon]

A Rebel In My Soul | Chapter 7: Six-feet's never felt so far

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Mitchell!Reader

Word count: 5k (told you it was long)

Warnings: okay so you've read the title. it's about Iceman's funeral. swearing, fluff, mentions of someone wanting to have kids (idk), drunk rooster, alcohol, mentions of rebel's mom (it's sad, i can't say more bc spoilers), mentions of Carole's passing, mention of terminal illness (unknown bc it's never said in the movie), mentions of period, several mentions of death, DEATH OF A MAIN CHARACTER, lots of crying, angst, lots of angst. i cried writing this chapter. Hangman's pov again.

Summary: Y/N "Rebel" Mitchell is one of the best aviators of her generation. She grew up hearing the adventures and stories of Maverick, her father, that he used as bedtime stories. She became an aviator with her best friend Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and now both of them have to come back to the Top Gun Academy for an important mission. Only the best of the best is called for this mission, including the southern idiot called Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Both of you had hated each other since day one. Now, having to work together once more, you count the days for this mission to be over, not only to never see Hangman again, but to also cut all connections again with your father.  

Taglist: @theprettytragic @thatoneweirdhorsegirl913 @shrimping-for-all @inky-sun @popcrone818 @blue-aconite @milestellerwife @chaoticassidy @smoothdogsgirl @nemtodd-barnes1923 @bregarc @alanadetigy @starkleila @plutotcles @bradleysgirl

(If you want to be tagged comment here or send me an ask)

IMPORTANT A/N: I'M REALLY SORRY FOR ALL THE SAD FEELINGS YOU'RE GONNA HAVE WHILE READING THIS. I sobbed while writing it. I wasn't sure if I was gonna write Iceman's death or make him live but I needed this for the development of Fahrenheit's character (special thanks to @blue-aconite, for commenting my previous post about the character's call sign).

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After all the events from the day, the only thing you want is to take a long, relaxing shower. Once you get home, you see Rooster’s Bronco and hear some loud music coming from the inside. You open the door, taking off your shoes and walking inside to see your friend weightlifting in the homemade gym you and Rooster organized in the corner of the living room. He’s covered in sweat, jaw clenched and eyes fixated on the wall. Rooster’s in a bad mood.  

“Hey, I'm back” you speak a bit louder than the music coming from the speakers. He leaves the dumbbells on the floor and turns off the music.  

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I saw you running out of the room but I had to make sure that they were okay” he explains, coming closer to you and hugging you.  

“Don’t worry. I understand. Someone had to be there” you pat his back. “I saw them in the infirmary. They’re okay”  

“Yeah, I was there when they got in. They’re okay” 

“...why do you smell like Bag man?”  

You tense a bit in his arms. Shit, you should’ve taken it off when you got home. “Mine was wet and I had to drive so...” 

“Well, he’s sharp, at least.” He strokes your hair, still a bit wet. “I saw you in the locker room with him. He told me to leave”  

You move your head back enough to look up at him. “He kicked you out?” you question, surprised by what your friend is telling. He nods, moving to seat on the sofa.  

“Yeah, he didn’t talk but he gave me a look like saying ‘I got this, leave’” you sit next to him. “Was he nice?”  

“Yeah, Roos. He helped me. He’s a good guy when he wants to” 

He looks at you, frowning and bouncing his leg up and down. “What?”  

“Y/n, I think he’s trying to make a move here” Rooster explains, voice low as if his words were a secret.  

“I mean, I suspected something. He’s been trying to act nice with me, he apologized every time he fucked up and went out of his way to get me a coffee this morning.” you smile a little at the thought.  

Rooster groans and it scares you a little. “I’m gonna get out of here because if I have to see that smile again, I will throw up” says Rooster while moving to his room. You follow him, unsure of why your friend is acting like this.  

“What’s wrong with my smile?” you question, getting close to him with your hands on your hips. 

“You’re falling in love with Bag man”  

“I-I am not falling in love with him” you retort back instantly. A tiny part of your heart knows that he’s telling the truth. But admitting to be in love with someone is something really scary. You don’t think you’re ready for that.  

“Look into my eyes and tell me I'm lying”  

You stare at him, knowing well that awful at stare duels. You usually last very little time because Rooster has such an intense stare that you have to look away. However now you can’t even look at him in the eye. He grins, celebrating his victory.  

“I’m taking your bike” he says while entering his room and closing the door to get changed.  

“Leave your keys so I can take the Bronco later!” you say moving to your room. Rooster opens his door, shirtless, looking at you with a suspicious expression.  

“...where are you going?”  

“Everyone is meeting to celebrate that Phoenix and Bob are okay. I just came to take a shower” 

“Oh yeah, that’s right” he turns to leave but it’s stopped by your next words.  

“Jake told me to meet there later”  

“I knew it! You’re meeting with Bag man. Wait did you say Jake?”  

“It’s his name” you shrug.  

“You never call him by his name”  

“Well and he has never helped me through a panic attack before but here we are! Maturing and forgiving. We should learn a few things about that”  

He rolls his eyes. “Next thing you know, she’s inviting Maverick to her wedding with Bag man” he says, leaving the room to get his shirt and the car keys. He comes back, throws you his keys and leaves saying something along the lines of “please use protection, I don’t need to have a mini–Bag man running around”  

You go straight to the shower. The hot water relaxes your body but your mind is working faster than ever. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt something like this before. It’s a strange feeling, however. It's a new, warm and tender feeling but, at the same time, it feels familiar. As if it has always been there. It had been growing with the years, until it was big enough for you (and everyone else) to notice it.  

It’s always been him; it seems.  

You can’t lie to yourself anymore. There’s a feeling there. Call it whatever you want, but it’s there and it gets only stronger by the minute.  

You don’t realize how much time you’ve been until the water turns cold and it pull you out of your thoughts. You get out, put on a towel and grab the brush to untangle your messy hair.  

You find yourself thinking again about him. Well, about his body. How he hugged you, the tone, muscular arms that engulfed you in, how he applied the right amount of pressure to stop your terrible shaking-self.  

You look at your bed, Jake’s jacket laying in its full glory. You are tempted to wear it again, just to see his reaction. Maybe with that beautiful sundress that it’s been hanging on your closet for a while now. And some sneakers. Yeah, cute outfit.  

After drying your hair and applying some light make up, you get dressed and grab Rooster’s car keys, ready to leave. You hop in the car, smiling when the smell of Jake’s jacket fills your nostrils.  

Yeah, you’re completely head over heels for him.  

When you get to the Hard Deck, however, you smile fades away. Coyote and Hangman are trying to get a very drunk Rooster from the floor. He’s only been here for an hour; how did he get so drunk?  

“Rooster?” you come closer to the three men and he giggles when his intoxicated mind realizes who you are.  

“Reeeeeebel you’re so pretty tonight. Oh my god, are you wearing make up?” he asks with slurred words.  

“How did he end up like this?” you look at Jake, who has a sorrowful expression.  

“Tequila” answers Coyote. “He got here and asked for the whole bottle. He said he had argued with Maverick before and well...”  

“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry. Can you guys take him to the car? I’ll drive him home”  

“I don’t wanna go hooome” whines Rooster while hugging Coyote. Poor guy.  

You move closer to Jake. “I’m sorry I have to leave so soon...”  

“Y/n, it’s not your fault”  

Coyote looks at the both of you, smiling because his friend is having a normal conversation with you. At last.  

“Hey, give me the car keys’ and I’ll get him home” offers Coyote.  

“He came with Fanboy” explains Jake, as if reading your mind. “He lives close to your house; he can let Rooster there”  

“Yeah, and I'll get home walking. It’s just a few minutes, I don’t mind. And you just got in, you should get a drink and enjoy the night. In fact, it’s the first time I've seen you with that dress and it looks really good on you. My friend here would be so glad if you stayed so he can watch you all night”  

Your eyes widen and you look at Jake who is shooting daggers to Coyote. If looks could kill...  

“Okay, then.” you give Coyote the keys and accompany them to the car. “Thank you so much, Coyote”  

“I would say it’s my pleasure but Hangman’s the only one here benefiting from this” he says while turning on the engine and leaving the both of you. Once you stop seeing the car, you realize something.  

“Rooster didn’t give me my keys”  

Jake snorts. “You two are like kids, I swear. Don’t worry, I’ll drive you home”  

You nod, linking your arm with his. “I’ll buy you a beer, then” 

“Only one more, though. I have to get the princess home safe and sound.” 

You hit his arm. “Shut up”  

“You look good in my jacket, darling” he whispers so close to you that you can feel his breath in your neck.  

“If you don’t shut up...”  

“Oh, but I like you all flustered” you hit him again, harder this time. “Auch! Okay, okay. I’ll stop” he laughs. 

After you get two beers, you go outside the noisy bar. The two of you sit on one of the benches. It’s dark outside, only a few lanterns here and there to light the area. The salty scent of the sea and the sound of breaking waves wrap you in a comfortable feeling. It's the kind of night in which secrets are revealed and feelings are confessed.  

“Rooster told me about Maverick.” confesses Jake while looking at the water. “He told me about the papers. He did it to him first, and then to his own daughter”  

“You can’t trust this man when he’s drunk. But yeah... Neither of us knows why. I have an idea, though. Because of a conversation I heard when I was a child” you tell him. First secret of the night.  

“You don’t have to talk about it, Y/n”  

“I need to. I’ve never told anybody about this” you state.  

“Then I’m all ears, sweetheart” he says, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Carole, Rooster’s mom, said once that she didn’t want her son to become an aviator like his father” you let out the most well-kept secret of your life. You heard it when you were almost ten years old. But you couldn’t tell that to your best friend. He wanted to be like his father so bad... How could you tell him that his mom didn’t approve it?  

“You think that Maverick pulled his papers because of her?”  

“It’s just a hypothesis but it’s the best one I got over the years” you say, sipping from your beer. 

“But he got mad at him. Why did Maverick think that doing the same to you would have different results?” 

“Here’s the other part of the hypothesis: Carole didn’t want me to become an aviator either”  

“And why did she thought she had anything to say about it?”  

You smile, a bit sad at the thought of that part of your life that you’re going to trust him with. Only your closest friends know.  

“Carole raised me as her own daughter. My mother left me and Maverick when I was only two years old. I don’t even know her name”  

Jake leaves his beer on the table and grabs your hand in his. “I’m so sorry to hear that...”  

“Don’t be. When I was old enough to know about my mother, Maverick gave me a box full of pictures and things he had collected for me. I never opened it”  

“Why? Weren’t you curious to know about her?”  

“I didn’t want to know anything about a woman that thought it was okay to leave a two-year-old kid. If she didn’t want me, I wasn’t gonna want her either” you reveal. It was, probably, the easiest decision you had ever made. Not knowing her implied not having to know why did she left you, if she ever missed you. If she had another family.  

You didn’t want to know.  

“And Carole raised you and Rooster alone”  

“Yes, she did. I spent more time in her house than in mine. Maverick spent a few months taking care of me but he was called for another mission and Carole took care of me. And then another mission came. And another, and another... I don’t blame him, though. We know how this is. You don’t have a choice” you feel Jake’s thumb caressing your knuckles and your body shivers at the touch. “Carole raised me. She taught me how to braid my hair, everything related to periods, how to put make up on, how to walk on high heels... Well, I've never learned how to walk properly on those, actually.” you laugh.  

“She loved you like you were hers”  

“Bradley and I used to say that we were siblings. Everybody knew we weren’t but for us... we were. We were raised by the same woman”  

“And you lost her, too”  

You take a deep breath. Yeah. Rooster lost his mother, but you lost yours, too. And only God knows how much you miss her.   

“She became sick. It was really quick, actually. I don’t know if that’s better or worse. One day she was smiling and wearing beautiful dresses and then the next... she was gone” you don’t know when the first tear fell from your cheek, but Jake quickly wipes it away. He gets up and walks around the table to sit beside you and pull you close to him.  

You find yourself in Jake’s hugs for the second time today, but this one is warmer. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. Is steady and calm.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/n” 

You hug him closer. “Life sucks, I guess. Now you have to tell me about your family. Spill the beans, cowboy”  

He chuckles and strokes your hair. “Well... Both my parents are alive. I have four sisters. I'm the only boy among the Seresin’s siblings. My older sister has two kids and I love them with my entire soul”  

You move your head back to look at him. “You’re the cool uncle?” 

He smiles shyly. “I love kids, okay? Tell anyone and I’ll deny it”  

“So you want to have kids”  

“A few, yeah. I want to raise them in my family’s ranch.”  

You stop hugging him, even if you don’t want to, because the position you two are in is hurting your neck. You move back a bit, Jake’s hand instantly moving to search your own. It’s like you two cannot stay away from the other.  

“You want kids. You know how to listen when your head is not up your ass. You’re a gentleman when you want to...” he laughs, shaking his head at your words. “Honestly, how are you single?”  

He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. “Maybe I was waiting for the right person” he says, leaning closer, his eyes moving from yours to your lips.  

You move closer to him, your heartbeat so loud that you can hear it in your ears. “Did you find them?”  

He moves his hands to your cheeks, one thumb moving over your bottom lip. “Yeah, I did” he whispers, his breath fanning over your features. You close your eyes, ready to feel his lips on yours.  

And then the phone rings.  

You pull away with a groan, taking your phone out of your pocket. Maverick.  

“Okay, that’s the biggest timing I’ve ever seen” he laughs, getting his drink.  

“He never calls me. It must be important.” you press the green button on the screen. “Yes?” 

“Iceman’s gone”  

If a minute ago your heart was beating faster than ever, now it has completely stopped working. You freeze, unable to respond or do anything. Uncle Ice is gone? He said he was okay. Did he... did he lie to you?  

Of course, he did.  

“Y/n? Are you still there?” you hear Maverick talking to you but it sounds so far away your mind doesn’t really process it.  

The phone falls from your grip, Jake catches it before it falls to the ground. “Hey, are you okay?”  

“Hangman is that you?”  

“Yeah, sir. Rebel is here with me. She’s in shock. What did you tell her?”  

“Admiral Kazansky has passed away. It was like an uncle for Rebel.” 

“I understand, sir. I’ll take care of her” he hangs up, putting the phone in his pocket and moving you to his lap. “Come here, darling. You seem to be unable to catch a breath today.”  

“He told me he was okay... I wanted to v-visit him but I didn’t have time” you choke on your words, tears falling down your face. Jake inhales deeply and pulls you impossibly closer.  

“Let’s get you home, okay? I’ll stay with you if you need me” you nod, and he takes you to his car. He only stops holding you when he has to walk around the car to sit behind the wheel, but he grabs your hand after that.  

When you get home, you hear snores from Rooster’s room. You would give everything in the world to be asleep right now, but closing your eyes today will be difficult.  

“Let’s get you out of this dress, you’re cold” says Jake in a sweet tone. Honestly, if your poor heart survives today is because of him.  

Jake accompanies you to your room, making you sit on the bed while he moves around the room looking for everything you need. He comes back with an old hoodie and some shorts and leaves them on the bed. “This will make you feel warm in a minute. I’ll go to the bathroom to look out for something to clean your face. Call me when you’re changed, okay?”  

“Jake” you call his name, your voice hoarse for the second time today.  

“Yes, honey?”  

“Thank you. For everything. I owe you a big one”  

He kneels before you, taking your hands in between his. He brings one of them to his lips, leaving a kiss in your palm. “Hey, you don’t owe me anything. But I'll have one of those beautiful smiles if you insist”  

You smile a bit. It doesn’t reach your eyes, and Jake’s hand drops yours to caress your cheek. “He’s in a better place now, right?” you question, tears flooding your eyes.  

“I’m sure he is, sweetheart. He’s putting everyone in his place up there.”  

You nod, wiping your tears away. He kisses your forehead and goes to the bathroom. Every time he kisses you, your heart skips a beat. You wish you could enjoy that feeling, embrace it and also, deal with all the unsaid words between Jake and you. Because he said that you were the one. He really just poured his heart out there for you to take it, and what had you given him in return? Tears. You need to let him know in a way that you return his feelings, whatever they are. 

“I found your micellar water” he says, entering the room again once you got changed. He has two cotton pads on his hand, and you look at him wondering how the heck does he know what micellar water is.  

“You know about makeup?”  

“Four sisters, remember? I even went once in a midnight run to the store to buy some tampons” he says, pressing the cotton pad against your skin and removing your makeup.  

“You have the whole package” you say, closing your eyes. “Honestly, though. You’re too perfect”  

He stops cleaning your skin and scoffs. You open your eyes to look at him. “I’ve been a jerk half of my life. Too proud to even admit when I was wrong. I’m not that good”  

“Well, you’re good now” you say, this time you’re the one holding his hands. “You’re good for me. And that’s all that matters, Jake”  

He smiles a bit. “I want to kiss you so bad. But I’ll wait because I don’t want you to remember our first kiss in the future and bringing so many bad memories.”  

You sigh. “You’re really something else.” you get up, taking the cotton pads and throwing them to the bin. “You should go home and rest. I’ll see you at the funeral”  

“I’m not leaving you” Jake states.  

“But”  

“No buts. You need someone and the chicken nugget you have for a friend is completely passed out. I’m staying with you”  

“...did you just call Rooster chicken nugget?”  

“It’s McNuggie for me” he says with a serious voice.  

You burst into laughter. Honestly that’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard someone call him. Jake laughs too. You really needed to laugh a bit.  

“I’ll go to McNuggie’s room and get you some clothes.” you say, leaving your room to go to Rooster’s. He doesn’t even move when you open the door. You grab a t-shirt and some grey sweatpants from his closet and leave quickly, not wanting to disturb his sleep. Even though you know he won’t notice it.  

“Here. You can change in the bathroom”  

He nods and goes change. You hear Rooster’s phone ringing. It’s Maverick again delivering bad news? You grab your phone from the nightstand, where Jake left it before. Several messages from Phoenix and Bob, who knew about Iceman being the closest thing to an uncle you’ve ever had.  

You also see a message from Iceman’s daughter. Snowcone, as you and Rooster used to call her when she was little. She was like her father in many aspects, but she chose to be a WSO instead of a pilot. Her call sign is Fahrenheit. Their companions gave it to her after a few weeks in the academy. Everyone knew she was the Admiral’s daughter. And they also knew about Iceman, how he was cool and cold. But he melted every time his little girl did something that made him proud. Also, she is the warmest person you’ve ever met. You always thought that she and Rooster would end up together. You haven’t talk to her in a while, you thought she was away on a mission. Maybe she was just focusing on her father.  

You open Fahren’s conversation. It’s a short text. She wasn’t one to beat around the bush.  

Fahren: He wanted you to have a good memory of him, Reb. He knew he was dying and he didn’t want us around when the time came. He only let my mom be with him. You know how he was. Always taking care of his girls.  

You: This man... How’s your mom? 

Fahren: Relieved. Sad. Tired. She just wanted him to stop suffering. He did.  

You: It’s hard... You’ll be okay. Both of you.  

Fahren: I know. Rest. I know you haven’t had a good day.  

You: Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.  

Rooster busts into the room with teary eyes. Oh shit, Maverick told him.  

“I-it’s true? Uncle ice...”  

You nod and get up to hug him, your own tears falling again. Jake leaves the bathroom and sees the scene. In his mind, Jake is questioning how you two got such a bad luck in life.  

“Hangman? What are you wearing my clothes”  

“She was with me when Maverick called. I couldn’t leave her alone” explains Jake, moving closer to pat Rooster’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss, Bradshaw.” 

He nods, wiping his tears. “Thanks, man. I’m going to make some coffee; do you guys want?”  

“Yeah, I don’t think I can get any sleep anyway” you admit, walking to the kitchen followed by the two men.  

The three of you sit quietly around the kitchen isle, every single one of you submerged in their own thoughts. The only sound in the room is the coffee machine heating up the brown liquid.  

“If someone told me that Hangman would be seated in my kitchen at midnight with my clothes on, I would have never believed them” says Rooster giving a mug to you and Jake.  

“It’s kinda weird I’ll give you that” retorts the other man. “Do you guys have good memories with the Admiral?”  

You look at Rooster, an instant smile spreading over. “Yeah... a lot” you tell.  

“You know his daughter is a WSO?” Rooster asks Jake and he nods. “We call her Snowcone. And the three of us were always causing havoc when the Kazanskys invited us for dinner. One time, this girl over here sneaked in the Admiral’s office and stole one folder that had ‘Top Secret’ in big red letters”  

“Oh no, not that one” you cover your face, trying to disappear.  

“So, she walks around the house reading the papers and there was like a map in there. She goes up to Snowcone’s room to grab her crayons”  

“Oh, you didn’t" Jake says looking at him.  

“He went on a meeting next day and when he had to show the map to the rest... it had a cute little drawing of Iceman and Maverick in pink aircrafts”  

Both men laugh at the image of a tiny little y/n painting pink aircrafts in a map. You smile at the memory. When you saw Iceman the next week, he wasn’t angry. In fact, he hung the drawing in his office, among other ones that his own kids had drawn before. He even had one from Rooster.  

“He was a good man. Very patient, too. Had to be to deal with Maverick’s ass during all these years” Rooster says.  

“Yeah... and with our asses” you laugh again. 

The three of you stay all night in the kitchen, remembering the most interesting adventures you had while growing up and making Jake part of your small family. He sits there, listening in awe to all the pranks you used to pull on him and Maverick during the years. He eventually tells a few stories of his own, Rooster warming up to him and asking a few things. You know that they can be good friends, and it melts your heart that he is making the effort to be in the same room with him because Jake is now an important part of your life.  

And if Hangman was willing to stay up all night hearing stories about Iceman and Maverick to cheer you up, he would be part of Rooster’s life too.  

Several hours later, you find yourself in full dress blue uniform in front of the mirror. Taking deep breaths, you go to the living room where Rooster and Jake are waiting for you. Jake went to his house a few hours ago to get his uniform. He looks really good.  

“You ready, darling?” asks the man you were staring at.  

“As ready as I'll ever be”  

They both nod, Rooster going to the door. You walk with Jake towards his car. He has offered to drive both of you to the cemetery.

It took Jake twenty minutes to drive there. There was no music, no small talk, nor even a breath could be heard during the ride. Jake was worried, actually. Last night, Rooster and Rebel never once stopped talking, having lots of stories to share with him. Now, it seemed like they would never talk again. He realized that wearing the uniform and going to the funeral makes it all more real. And it made it hurt more. 

Jake also felt bad because all the events that had happened in the last 24 hours had brought him closer to Y/n that he could ever thought possible. She had shared a lot of her, her secrets, her childhood stories, she even stayed around when he said that she was the one for him. If Maverick hadn’t called, they would even have kissed.  

Jake knew that he shouldn’t be grateful for all that, but he was. Because of that, he was able to be with her in her vulnerable moments. He gained her trust. And he had to stop himself several times from kissing her. It wasn’t the moment for that, as Jake confessed to her. He had given her enough bad memories for a lifetime. If they were to make new memories together, he wanted them to be happy, beautiful ones.  

Once they arrived to the cemetery, all the Dagger squad was there. Even Maverick. Y/n walked immediately towards two women who, he supposed, were the Admiral’s wife and daughter. She hugged them close, the older woman crying for what it seemed the hundredth time that day.  

Rooster told Jake that Iceman asked Maverick to nail his wings on his coffin if he ever passed before him. It was a sign of respect. Jake’s chest tightened at the idea that maybe soon enough he will be nailing his wings in someone’s coffin if the mission wasn’t successful. He didn’t want to think of that.  

He stood next to Phoenix who seemed to be waiting for the appropriate time to ask why did he drive Y/n and Rooster here. After a few moments, the two joined them and the funeral began. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he took Y/n’s hand in his whenever he could. She seemed grateful to have a grounding touch.  

Once that the Admiral’s coffin was underground, Fahrenheit got closer to the tombstone. The formalities had ended, everyone was in small groups, greeting old friends and talking about the late admiral. Nobody was paying attention to her, except the Dagger squad. Fahren stood in front of her father’s grave, her knees buckled, falling to the ground. She began to cry; her agonizing cries being heard by every single soul present at the graveyard. Rooster ran to her, kneeling down and holding her between his arms. She held onto him for dear life. It seemed that the admiral’s daughter had tried to be brave for him until the very end. Not only for him, but for her family too. She had to take care of the family now. She didn’t know how to do it without her father.  

Y/n, that had been talking to Penny until she heard Fahren cry, also ran to hug her friend. Fahren, Rooster and Rebel had lost a father. Biological or not, it didn’t matter. Iceman took care of them in the same way. Jake had come to that conclusion after all the stories he heard about him. Maverick had been the funny and cool paternal figure, also the one that would always be there whenever they needed him. Iceman had been the mentor. He had taught them mathematics; Maverick had taught them how to drive a bike. Iceman, Maverick and Carole had raised those kids. They were alone, now, with broken hearts, open wounds, and unhealed traumas. 

Carole had died long ago.  

Maverick deceived them soon after.  

And now, Iceman, the only similar thing to a relative they had left, was gone, too.  

#top gun x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x fem!reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #hangman x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman fic #a rebel in my soul #top gun imagine #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #hangman x you #jake seresin #hangman top gun #tgm #hangman fluff #hangman angst

[moss-and-marimos]

this is a Free Rant Pass. please share anything u want to please pass go and please collect 200 dollars

oh my god I need to go feral about jrwi right now

(spoilers for jrwi riptide up to episode 95 bc thats where I am right now) this is going to be a long nonsense ramble that jumps around a lot just so you know

godddddddd I love albatrio, they make me really happy, but also really sad vbhjhdj

seeing like how much they've grown over the course of the campaign makes me really emotional, and like learning about their backstory stuff and their similarities and differences from eachother. gill and jay understand eachother more than like chip and gill for example, because both were raised to be weapons and to see things very black and white. jay went undercover because she wanted to find out who killed her sister, under the idea that all pirates were evil. gill was raised to think that all humans were evil and must be killed, but as soon as he comes to the surface he finds out thats not true, even if he second guessed sometimes like after the things with episode 15. and seeing how differently episode 15 chip handled their fighting to episode 86 is so much character development, he knows how much it meant to gill and he stayed up all night to build an arena so that they could fight, and it was a much more fair fight, because he knew he shouldn't have kept the secret about edyn from gill and im rahhhhhh

also when theyre just having fun together, I love them a lot, theyre so ridiculous /aff like theyre a pirate crew and they make a waterslide out of ice like its a cruise ship, they have the worlds most intense game of tag/hide and seek because one of them can fly, the other is a fish guy, one has such wild stealth or persuasion or something I forget which rolls that he automatically gets at least a 25, in the weirdest way possible they are very evenly matched, and theyre doing that to make the small boy they keep on their ship happy, who also happens to have a belt of giant strength and so chip is very outmatched here as the only like normal human besides his high rolls vbjdfd

at the carnival when we got to see flashbacks to how they were as kids it makes me really emotional, gill was covered in bruises, wearing armor too big for him, holding a sword he could barely lift. chip was incredibly malnourished, he looked like he hadn't eaten a day in his life, and jay looked like the more 'normal' kid of the three, but knowing her family her childhood wasn't great either.

theres so much depth to all of these characters and it makes me go wild, and like everything is connected even if we dont know it at the start. chip was one of the black rose pirates as a kid before it crashed, drey, jays uncle, was too. so was Finn, gills grandpa.

chip has said before that he didnt believe in destiny until he met gill, but now he can't imagine a life without them, and I think about sometimes how different things could have been. if jay hadn't taken that undercover mission, or if they left a day earlier or later. if they left at any different time they might not have found gill, freshly exiled, just floating in the sea.

they mean so much to eachother and its so so clear. they find out their best friend might be doomed to destroy the world in some capacity? "I would drown the world for you" is chips response. they are the trio ever. "we're not just friends, we're a crew"

they are simultaneously the worst and best pirates in existence, they dont know the pirate code, the only rule of it they know is 'dont piss your pants' yet somehow they manage to follow it better than most pirates, because they actually care about helping people and being honorable and things. they were a crew held together by trust for the longest time, rather than any actual oath, and when they did make an oath it was sitting on a rooftop, comforting chip. and the oath they came up with was "I do solemnly swear to fuck shit up, to help those in need, and to be the best goddamn pirates anyone has ever seen."

something something about cycles, about how chip keeps nearly breaking down realizing that hes been trying to recreate what he had as a kid and the guilt from that

something something gillion realized because of his friends that the teachings of the undersea were wrong, that he was raised as a weapon, that he didnt deserve the awful awful things they did to him, that hes worth more than what he can do for other people, that hurting himself, throwing himself into danger all the time, hurts his friends too

something something jay, realizing that not all pirates are bad, and that she gets to be her own person, defined not by her family but by her choices, and that even when she betrayed her friends they didnt give up on her, even when she quite literally shot them

its gill hyping jay up when she has to call her grandma, its jay comforting gill when he had to face the council again when he was stuck in the dimension bc of the deck of many things, its chip trying to sand out the 'millennium chipper' from the ship, thinking they don't need him, and jay carving it back in because they need him more than he knows. things like that

also the less interaction-ey things, like them all making deals with Niklaus to save other people, considering themselves to be worth less than the crew even though theyre supposed to all be equals. its chips seal with Niklaus being where a tramp stamp would go vjbhdfjbh and also having a constantly updating tattoo across his ass of how much debt theyre in from the goldfish loan, its gill constantly showing their money off the ship to appease said goldfish and pay their taxes- theyre a pirate crew who pays taxes. what the fuck guys. one of chips pranks was literally just drawing boobs on their pirate flag. its jay getting bit by Anastasia and gill, asexual icon, stopping drowning just to go "what the fuck." when she was into it vdbjhbdfhj, also for some reason jay is into mimes. actually no she broke into a maximum security prison in a clown costume. theyre ridiculous vdbjhfvh

aaaaaaaa i dont have the words for the rest of this but just the way they comfort eachother and stuff, like chip knowing he wont be good at comforting gill so he asks jay to do it because of her similar background to gill and stuff, I just rahhhh theyre co-captains !! theyre closer than friends !!! co-captains or a crew really is just the best way to define how they feel about eachother and I like them a lot and they love eachother a lot and yeah I rotate them in my mind

#long post #my rambles #thank you mushy I have them in my brain #.....please feel free to send asks like this again if you ever want to hear more about them #next time ill actually put words in an order that makes sense instead of nonsense bvjdhfbjd #sorry this is so long im vfbhfvbhfvbhbdhjfbdhj #goes wild about them #I am now 200 dollars richer >:D

[mackenzielovee]

I posted 4,384 times in 2022

That's 3,617 more posts than 2021!

3,725 posts created (85%)

659 posts reblogged (15%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mackenzielovee

@goldenjo

@r0und3bitch

@lovedetlost

I tagged 4,079 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#ask! - 3,291 posts

#anon - 2,152 posts

#ambivalence hcs - 1,337 posts

#<3 - 525 posts

#ss<3 - 219 posts

#xoxo - 110 posts

#rafe cameron - 99 posts

#rafe fic - 99 posts

#rafe obx - 99 posts

#rafe cameron imagine - 99 posts

Longest Tag: 92 characters

#pls help me the creative juices arent flowing but i can't move forward until this is written

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ambivalence epilogue: falling - rafe cameron

a/n: omg wish i could tell you how nervous i am about this shit lmao i really hope you guys like this , pls leave me a comment as always and let me know what you think! sorry its so long oops

Summary: Rafe Cameron gets everything he's ever wanted in twenty short minutes.

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, mentions of blood, mentions of a car accident, many poorly researched little things that i won't put here bc spoilers

Word Count: 9.3k

series masterlist

my writing

"Rafe?"

You yell out for him the second you enter the foyer of Tannyhill, shopping bags in one hand and keys in the other. He'd given you a key months ago, under the pretense of watering the plants in the kitchen during the days that everyone is at work. Rose had raised an eyebrow at him and Ward had rolled his eyes, but they didn't protest. They love you too much.

"Y/N?"

Rose steps out of the kitchen and into the hall, smiling when she sees you.

"Hey, Rose," you smile, walking toward her.

"Hey, girl. Come on in. He's out back, he said he'll be in soon."

You follow her into the kitchen and set your shopping bags down on the counter, placing your hands on your hips and giving her a look.

"His project, again?" you question.

"Oh, yeah. Ward and I have been officially banned from the entire backyard."

You laugh, "At least you know what he's doing. He won't tell me."

Rose smirks, then raises her hand to her mouth and acts like she's locking it up. You take a deep breath and shake your head, failing miserably at persuading intel from her.

"Sorry, honey. Swore me to secrecy," she smiles sadly.

"It's okay, I get it," you sigh.

She chuckles at your dramatics, then steps to the fridge and pulls out a drink for you and one for herself. After ten months of being with Rafe, you still can't get over how he keeps the fridge stocked with your favorite things, even though you've told him a million times that it's unnecessary.

"So, what's in the bags?" she asks.

"Midsummers prep," you take a deep breath, reaching for one of the bags, "I picked up the necklace Mom ordered for me, and I had to get Scott a tie bar. Oh, and look at what I got for Rafe."

You reach into the bag and pull out a box, handing it to Rose. Her eyes widen when she opens it, glancing up at you with a sappy expression.

"Y/N, these are beautiful. Does he know that you got these made for him?"

You shake your head, "It's a surprise. He hates the cufflinks he has now."

"He's going to love them," she gushes, "You should see the way he's freaking out over his tie. It hasn't arrived yet, and I think he's about to go into cardiac arrest."

"It's over a week away," you laugh.

"Try telling him that."

See the full post

859 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

#4

parenthood: an ambivalence continuation

okay i'm probably more excited than i should be :) i decided to make this into a whole series (thank you to those who recommended/agreed) and i'm so excited because i don't have to let go of these two (three) yet! i hope you enjoy this, i know i will <3

be sure to read ambivalence for background + all of the post-epilogue blurbs to catch up if you haven't already!

part one: fully invested

part two: playing defense

part three: it's a...

part four: resilience

part five: unconditional

part six: new beginnings

part seven: ingenuous

part eight: resolution

part nine: growth

part ten: bliss

part eleven: inclination

part twelve: lucky

part thirteen: invidious

part fourteen: rectify

part fifteen: real life

part sixteen: dissension

part seventeen: complications

part eighteen: a balancing act

part nineteen: rivals

part twenty: intemperance

part twenty one: muddy waters

Blurbs

cotton candy mouth

a wife’s intuition

thanksgiving day

Mini Drabbles

connor clinging to y/n and wanting rafe to leave

See the full post

1,011 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

#3

tutoring — rafe cameron

a/n: this is the filthiest thing i have ever written. all thanks to my girls @r0und3bitch and @lovedetlost , i love and adore both of you , thanks for being you !

warnings: all of them. im serious. SMUT (PinV sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, manipulation of reader, degrading language, dom/sub dynamics)

     It was supposed to be an innocent night. You’d told Rafe to come over to help you study for your finals, given that he’s a math whiz and you aren’t. He’d entered your apartment with textbooks and a pencil behind his ear, but the smirk is what gets you. 

He’d helped you with four problems before, somehow, you found yourself perched in his lap, your dress bunched at your hips by his large hands. Your clothed core grinds against his as you cup his cheek, kissing him like it’s your last time. 

You break the kiss and moan against his lips, rutting your hips into his faster. He combines the fistfuls of fabric into one hand, then uses his free one to palm your ass as he guides you. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, “You’re supposed to be studying, baby. Tucking that pretty lip between your teeth while I tell you you’re doing a good job. You like when I tell you you’re doing a good job?”

“Mhm,” you whine, “I like—I want—”

Rafe’s cruel, low laugh brings a tint to your cheeks, the kind that makes you feel embarrassed. He notices as you slow your movements, leading him to rut his hips up into you. When you let out a loud, uncontrolled moan, he smirks. 

“No wonder you needed my help,” he teases you, “Just a dumb little girl, huh? Don’t worry, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

He kisses you again before you can say another word, seemingly doing his best to try and swallow you whole with the aggressive way he takes your mouth. You’re too lost in his kiss to notice his fingers loop through your underwear and yank it off, dropping the soaked fabric onto the couch beside him. 

“Daddy,” you plead, sitting back on his knees as you take in his swollen lips. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he repeats, “I’m gonna take real good care of you. You see, good girls don’t make their daddies wait. Good girls also do their studying before playtime. Now, I know you worked that pretty little brain extra hard on our math problems, so that counts. But you’re not gonna make Daddy wait, are you?”

You bite down on your bottom lip as you shake your head, your eyes wide and pouty as you lean forward. 

“No, Daddy, m’sorry,” you mumble. 

He brings you in for another kiss, “Don’t be sorry, honey. Come here.”

You sit up on your knees again and let him guide your hands down to his belt buckle, where he nods for you to undo it. He sits up just enough for you to pull him out, eyes widening slightly at the length and the girth of him. You swallow and shake your head after a second, knowing you can’t make him wait any longer. 

“Spit on it,” he demands, “Don’t make me ask again.”

You nod, “Yes, sir.”

You lean forward and let your spit fall from between your lips, watching how it floods Rafe’s already leaking tip. Slowly, Rafe guides your hand over him, helping you rub your spit down his shaft. 

“That’s it,” he grins, “Good fucking girl. Get me all ready for you.”

“More?” you ask him, looking down at his wet, hard cock.

“Yeah, baby, more,” he nods, brushing hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. 

You spit on him again, rubbing it up and down with both hands this time instead of one. Rafe throws his head back on the couch cushion as you stroke him, drawing even more precum from his tip. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “That’s so good. Take your dress off, come on.”

You do as told, removing your hands only for a moment to pull your dress over your head. He grins as you do exactly what you’re told, nodding his head slightly in approval. You bask in the slight nod of praise, wanting more from him. Your hands return to his cock and he grunts when you squeeze him, twisting your wrist and watching his face contort as you do.

“Shit,” he grunts, “You wet for me, baby? You think Daddy can just slide right in? Or do I have to work you open? Make you take me?”

You shake your head slowly, knowing that he knows how wet you are purely by the way you’re leaking on his jeans. 

“I can take it, Daddy,” you whimper.

He smiles, “Gorgeous, filthy thing. C’mere. You talk a big game for such a little girl.”

See the full post

1,017 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#2

a series of attempts — bucky barnes

Bucky comes to you with everything — everything but his true feelings. He likes his sweet, little, innocent girl. Until you choose not to play the game anymore.

warnings: swearing, manipulation on bucky's part, kissing, smut (at the end, you'll see it coming — dry humping, kissing allusion to more)

     You’d never pegged yourself as one of those people who went to bed early. You’d never been too particular about it at all — you went to sleep when you wanted and that’s that. Although you had your share of late nights, getting older and settling into a steady job brought out the most adult-like tendencies in you. 

Which is why you find yourself ready to assault whoever is on the other side of your front door, brutally pounding on it and then switching to the doorbell when that attempt deems unsuccessful. 

“What the — Buck,” you groan, letting your face fall into your hands, “Seriously?”

He smirks, “Hi, sweetheart.”

Even at three o’clock in the morning, you feel your heart soar at his raspy, tired voice. When you look up at him again, you take in his appearance. He’s been beaten up pretty bad, but the blood dripping from his knuckles tells you that the other guy looks worse. Of course he does. Bucky doesn’t play around. 

“What happened to you?” 

He laughs now, stepping closer to the threshold of your home, as if he expects you to step out of his way so he can enter. Instinctually, you do, naturally letting go of every feminine instinct you possess when he’s within ten feet of you. 

“Comes with the job. You should know that by now. Clean me up?”

“Uh — yeah. Come in,” you reply, stepping aside so he can enter. 

He smirks as he passes you, taking in your little outfit with no subtlety whatsoever. His eyes wander down the front of your tank top and once he’s past you, he tosses his head over his shoulder to check out your legs in your sleep shorts. You swallow down your objection, feeling the need to please him, especially in his state, and follow him into the kitchen. 

“Well?” he turns to you, looking handsome as ever in his bloodstained button-up. 

You freeze, “Well, what?”

When he chuckles, you feel yourself shrink. Bucky’s always had a way of making you feel small, but not necessarily in a bad way. You almost feel as if your brain shuts down when he’s around, like you automatically know that he’ll do all the thinking for you. That he’s there, so you’re safe. Provided for. If only you were spoken for. 

“You’re playing nurse, baby. Tell me where you want me.”

He watches your throat constrict, but says nothing. Instead, he just allows the smirk to grow on his lips. 

“Hop up on the counter,” you say, your voice hoarse, “Let me get my kit.”

He watches as you hurry off to collect your first aid kit from your bathroom. You grab it from under the sink, then take a quick glance in the mirror. It’s fine. It’s Bucky. Just relax. 

But it’s impossible for you to relax around Bucky. He’s been dangling himself in front of you for the better part of two years; teasing you and haunting your dreams all while you refrained from confessing just how much you love him. 

You’d given up on anything happening between the two of you when he hooked up with your best friend at your birthday party last year. To make matters worse, you’d been the one to catch them — in your home, no less, but thankfully not your bed — and you’d cried for days. Not that Bucky knew that. He knew you were pissed, sure, but he didn’t know why. And the why is the most important part of it all. 

You stop when you pick up your lip gloss tube, then toss it back down on the counter. Yes, Bucky checks you out from time to time, but he always has. You just assumed that based on his lack of attempting anything, he didn’t find you appealing enough. That thought alone could make you tear up. 

You hurry away from the mirror and back to the kitchen, freezing in the doorway when you take in the sight in front of you. Bucky’s button-up rests folded up in his lap, leaving his perfectly carved, tan chest on display. That smirk spreads across his lips again, and sometimes you swear you could just smack it right off. 

“Sorry—” you blurt, “I couldn’t find the kit.”

“Here I was thinking you were getting all prettied up for me,” he teases. 

You let out a weak and unconvincing laugh as you open up the kit beside him, removing the materials you need. 

“It’s three in the morning,” you remind him, “You get what you get when you show up at this hour.”

He laughs like he can’t help himself, then turns to you, so close you can feel his breath, “I always like what I get, no matter what time it is.”

You recoil when the scent of alcohol hits your nose, and you realize all too quickly what it means. 

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1,578 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

loveless — bucky barnes

synopsis: hating Bucky Barnes is easy. Sleeping with him and keeping the feelings away proves to be much more difficult.

warnings: swearing, slight mention of anxiety symptoms, SMUT (oral: f&m receiving, PinV sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight orgasm denial, degrading language (not to reader), kissing)

     His eyes are darker than usual today. 

That’s the first thing you notice as you sit across the table from him, glaring at him with a clenched jaw. He’s glaring right back, neither of you trying to pay attention to your boss as he goes through the quarterly figures. 

“Got it, Barnes?” Tony’s voice brings both of you out of your hateful gaze. 

You watch as Bucky clears his throat and looks over, nodding his head, “Yeah. Got it, boss.”

“I’m sure you do. You looked very engaged,” Tony mutters sarcastically. 

Bucky laughs at that, “Oh, I was. In fact, Y/N’s got some ideas to increase sales this quarter. She was telling me about them last night—”

“When I was working late,” you cut in, not wanting to give the wrong impression, despite knowing Bucky’s actively trying to make you look bad, “Bucky came into my office to drop off the expense reports, and—”

“And, we got to talking,” Bucky takes over, “Tell him your great ideas, Y/N. I especially like the strip poker idea. For charity, of course.”

“That’s enough,” Tony glares at Bucky, “Y/N, any real suggestions?”

You swear your blood stops in your veins, because no, you didn’t have any real suggestions. In fact, part of this job makes you feel like you’re drowning, and the ability to think outside the box is far out of your reach when you can barely think inside of it. 

“Um,” you stutter, listening to Bucky chuckle victoriously across from you, “Sir, I—”

“No, then. Great. Let’s move on. Rogers, how are things on your end?”

Your eyes close under the embarrassment and you're sure you look about as incompetent as anyone can get. After a moment, you look over to Steve, who’s preparing to speak. He gives you a compassionate smile, which you return. He’s always been nice to you. Your first day on the job, he walked you all the way to Tony’s office. He brings you coffee from the breakroom frequently, and he always backs you up in meetings when he can tell you’re nervous. Your favorite part about it all is that he doesn’t have to do any of it. 

Bucky rudely clears his throat, earning your attention back. You narrow your eyes, trying your best to show your annoyance in one glance. He just smirks and raises his elbow up on the arm rest, waving his metal fingers at you. 

     Once the meeting clears, you take your time collecting your things. Bucky escapes without a second thought while Steve hangs around, giving you a gentle and reassuring smile when you stand from your chair. 

“Strip poker, huh?” he teases. 

You roll your eyes, “I never suggested that.”

Steve laughs easily, leading you out of the conference room. He holds his arm out, allowing you to walk through first, and the blush that rises to your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed, you’re sure. 

“I know you didn’t. Bucky’s brain is… unique.”

He watches you smile as he walks by your side down the hall, where you spy Bucky himself, leaning against the wall and flirting with Tony’s intern. Your eyes roll once again as he leans in closer, grinning like a fool as she smiles up at him with hopeful eyes. You’re sure he’s loving it. 

“It sure is,” you mutter, “How’s Sam?”

“He’s good, you know, he’s spending some time with his sister and nephews…”

Steve’s voice trails off in your head as you pass by Bucky and his beloved intern. You catch his eye as you pass, glaring at him. He smirks, his eyes shamelessly checking you out even while he’s in the middle of flirting with another woman. 

“Excuse me, sweetie,” Bucky mumbles, pushing himself off the wall and following behind you. With a smirk, you start swaying your hips a little bit as you walk just to fuck with him. You hear a groan from behind you, which widens your smirk greatly. “What are you two gossiping about up there?”

Steve sighs, “Do you have to be a dick every second of your life?”

“Makes things more interesting,” Bucky shrugs, “Hey, great idea in the meeting today, Y/N. I really enjoyed that panicked look on your face at the idea of disappointing Tony.”

Before you can muster up a response, Steve stops and turns around, setting his wide palm on Bucky’s chest. 

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1,865 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

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

[spiritualviolation]

You persona au. begging on hands and knees for more of this i swear this is such a good au idea, i love it sm!!! I ahve to ask though- any tidbits you're willing to share of what you have Sausage? He's a blorbo and (after scrolling through every post in the tag) I'm very curious about what you meant by 'fucked up trauma'

aa thank you so much!! i will love anybody who is interested in my au

his 'fucked up trauma' is mainly due to fwhip and gemini constantly abandoning him (in the og series, especially during the time of his corruption arc -- that is, if my memory serves me right), and maybe some additional stuff i would add once i rewatch his s1 empires series. (i might have been just exaggerating it but honestly i'm pretty sure there were plenty of instances in the series where they did.)

that idea of his persona representing his fucked up trauma was an idea i was throwing around bc 99% of the stuff of the au wasn't very solid at the time but this will delve a little into extreme persona 5 spoilers

so you know how akechi has 2 personas, right? but loki feels more like a shadow being a persona rather than the regular personas where they're controlled shadows. (does this make sense.) and this is where sausage's corruption arc comes in where sausage may or may not get a shadow-like persona! at least that's what my idea is

so far the ideas of persona!sausage are more to his arc in the main story (if people want to make any headcanons in their asks, i am extremely open!!) but i will also share that in the au, he is the magician arcana!

#empires smp #persona x empires #crossover au #empires smp season 1

[isupposethisisagoodusername]

So I was watching batman and the battle of the supersons and here's the translation of my translated commenting that I made to my friends

(I watched the movie in English, commentated to my friend group chat in not English, am translating to English)

Some spoilers yes, beware

Sort of boring beginning

Like, it tells

How superman came to earth and along the alien son of s bitch that tries to take over the world

[laughing]

Him with a cowboy hat opening the suit to show the S

(my friend says that Superman being an alien is cringe and I say I think he's cringe for being a beacon of hope and so perfect)

(my friend and I agree that megamind, gru and Batman are superior)

His son is complaining that his parents' job is boring

The woman giving him moral lessons [laughing]

[uppercase laughing]

THE KID

THE DUMBASS KID

HE LOOKED UNDER HIS PARENTS' BED FOR GIFTS

AND SAW THE SUPERMAN SUIT

AND IT WAS LIKE AN ASSHOLE TEENAGER

(and I quote the quote "ew ugh, cosplay")

[uppercase laughing]

Dumbass kid

HIM RUNNING TO HIDE

Oi what a dumb child

Dumb

In this I agree with Robin that this kid is dumb

[tags the message "HIM RUNNING TO HIDE"] FROM SUPERMAN

Superman pretending to put effort to life those wheat thingies [I meant hay bales just didn't know the word]

Ew Superman's a good dad

I don't like this no

Gross

[my friend says "good dad is not present dad"]

[I say the following:

Like batman

The son died and the guy didn't even look for vengeance

[my friend laughs in uppercase]

I swear Imma watch the batman movies all in one sitting one day]

The dumbass that's superman doesn't even try to hide that he's going after a meteor to his dumb son

Holly shit Bro stopped a space ship

Yeah Imma comment the whole mocie

These dumb people never saw alien movies son of a bitch

Even living with one

At least he draws the bow

[my friend calls superlittleidiot and superbigidiot ugly after searching up the movie and sends a picture of them, I agree, say that he's also ridiculously dumb]

Dumb kid

[uppercase laughing]

HIS AIM

HORRIBLE

[uppercase laughing]

Deserves a beat up too

The kid throwing basebol bat and had in the middle of the street

As if it were nothing

Throwing trash on the street

Ran away from home the dumbsss

THE KID IS MORE FAN OF BATMAN THAN OF SUPERMAN

[uppercase laughing]

Well done

Wow how dumb this kid is

Imma spend the whole movie saying that

Cringe kid

Dumb kid

Someone hit him

Pls

"my dad's the coolest superhero in the world, besides Batman" [quoted quote]

The guy is the biggest Batman nerd of the world

The Robin is the most violent child that has ever exisyed

He doesn't loose the opportunity to commit murders [a lot of laughing]

[break BC my other friend showed up]

The kid has just commited one more act of violence

[my cat was having a nightmare]

Damian has just been rejected by his team for being violent, antisocial and emo

"of course I have a cow"

"I killed more people than you'll ever meet so fuck the fuck off away from my cow"

I'm glad this kid is bukkied

BC dumb like this

Needing to learn some notions of things

Superman turned off a light that was already off

Fucking dumb kid

Damian is a big son of a bitxh

Where's Alfred to deal with bruce

His cow judging him

And ordering him to make friendship

The principal blaming bullying on the victm

I'm glad someone calls him dumb [about Damian calling Jon dumb]

What a dumb kid jfc

They made a gay ass Dude simp for a married woman

At least she has a brain

SHE CALLED HIM A SON OF A BITCH

[uppercase laughing]

Another guy in wurstion

And then said "BURN THIS SON OF A BI-]

now I understand why a gay ass Dude is a simp for her

"I'm going to kill you, father"

Dumbass kid

Physics died

And became friends

The fucking lake [laughing]

Ew family

I'm glad this dumbass figured out hair gel isn't useful just to be emo

People who let this kid wear a suit and tie

Murderous kid

Those were my thoughts, badly translated because it's one AM, fuck off

I do not support bullying, me saying Jon should be bullied is just a meme and a common form of humour in my friend group and we never actually mean that anyone should be bullied, we have actually stepped up to bullies in the past and are sort of bullied at the moment, it was all a joke

I translated some words that in English are slurs to simpler terms that aren't slurs so broken sentences because I do not wish to offend anyone

Please forget this post exists, I'm just tired and I like commenting while watching shit, it's like laughing during horror movies and cussing out characters in any and all media, a need I have that I cannot keep controlled as it is engraved in the bottom of my soul just like being dumb is to Jon's

[depresseddepot]

has anyone else read the last astronaut by david wellington because. holy shit

#ill keep the spoilers to a minimum but dont read the tags if you're worried abt it #that was terrifying. absolutely fucking horrifying #i dont get scared by books very easily. like thrillers and horror novels just make me excited bc i like to read #im. literally terrified #IVE BEEN SLEEPING ON SCI FI THRILLERS I SWEAR #first the luminous dead (i could write essays on that fucking book) and now this #i didnt even realize it was a thriller at first. like w these sci fi ones i can never tell if its SCARY scary or just like. #lost in space scary #SO ITS ALWAYS SUPER FUCKING SCARY WHEN IT REALLY STARTS GOING #okay real spoilers below #rao cutting sunny open and it being described like that made me sit up fucking right #the idea of performing surgery on someone to remove dead tissue and finding a bunch of worms completely carving out their body #holy goddamn god #hawkins' descent into insanity was masterfully done. MASTERFULLY #also i started the book out thinking 'oh there's interviews from like the future!! so these characters survive at least' #GIRL. IF ONLY U KNEW #im going to have nightmares! from a book! i fucking love reading man that was so good #and so TERRIFYING #im reading another caitlin starling novel next and thats more psychological horror so like. ¿what then? #maybe ill bite the bullet and read the dragon republic #i cant stress enough just how scared that book made me. like im laughing at myself but i also feel like crying #is this what good horror novels do? holy shit #ive found my next obsession #goddamn

[kazewhara]

through the fire and back again.

# — pairing(s): aether, kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, kazuha, aether, paimon, raiden shogun/ei/baal, gorou

# — summary: a request from @lovely26: "reader pushing aether and kazuha (separate) from baal's attack during the archon quest."

# — warnings: archon quest spoilers!!, hc/drabble format, violence, injury, swearing

# — tags: canon compliant, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

# — notes: my first ever req on this blog !! i love this a lot bc this particular scene made me cry, like i love kazuha so fuckin much, dude :( i hope you like it and, as always, rbs and reactions are always appreciated!

✧ — 𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 — ✧

you got into a fight with aether that morning.

in hindsight, you feel terrible knowing that you just added more weight to his shoulders. he was working himself to the bone day in and day out, even if it was reluctant on his part. you could only watch as aether tightened his fists behind his back each time he was given a new task. even when you tried to lighten the load for him, he would brush you off with a half-hearted smile, mumbling his apologies into your skin whenever he got the chance.

something was wrong and it was only getting worse.

the morning it happened, you tried to stop aether from doing anything. you begged him to just sleep in for once -- to allow himself a moment to just breathe, even if it was for a second. when he refused, you became desperate.

"aether, i don't want you to hurt yourself out there!" you cried, frustrated tears forming on your lashes. "please just listen to me for once, i just--"

the traveler yanked his hand out of yours. he was fully glaring at you now, not a single ounce of mirth or kindness swimming in his golden eyes. it terrified you. "if you try to stop me from making progress one more time," he hissed, "then we're going to have to end this."

and that was the end of that. you gaped at his back as he left and couldn't muster up the courage to find him in fear of losing what little happiness you had left. you stewed in your indignation for the rest of the day until the sky began to crackle.

it was as if the air itself was laced with pure electricity. in the land of electro, that should have been a good omen, but to you, it only made your stomach drop lower than you have ever felt it. perhaps it was because you hadn't seen aether all day, but whenever supernatural things occurred, he was usually at the center of it all. you dropped what you were doing and let your feet carry you as fast as they could.

only the archons would know why you ended up at tenshukaku. when you saw the backs of the resistance as they waited on the steps, you sprinted over to general gorou, who grabbed your shoulders with thinly veiled panic in his eyes. "what are you doing here?" he asked, gently pushing you backwards. "if aether finds out that you're here--"

"he won't do a thing," you said, holding your ground. "something felt off, and now i'm here. you know i can fight, so at least let me help."

you were half-lying. while you possessed a hydro vision and could most definitely fight -- kazuha could attest to your skills -- that's not what you were there to do; you were there to collect aether and get him to safety. gorou eyed you warily. you could tell he was trying to figure out whether or not he should let you stay.

it was no secret that you were the legendary traveler's most important person; unfortunately that title preceeded you. you hated that people thought aether was your knight in shining armor. you were just as good a fighter as he was, and the only reason he'd made it this far was because you had his back. you didn't flinch as gorou scanned you closely before he sighed.

"fine," he let go of you and pointed to the entrance to tenshukaku. "we're on standby. stand at the front by kazuha and be ready. clear?"

"crystal."

after taking your position beside kazuha, you didn't have to wait much longer. you were right to be on edge; the sky became impossibly dark over the shogun's residence, and the thunder threatened to deafen you. you saw kazuha flinch and cover one of his ears with a hand beside you. before you could check on him, gorou suddenly gave the order to advance. you're confused, but you obey.

you see him at the top of the stairs. he's staggering as he makes his way out, but he looks relatively unharmed. you release a breath you didn't know you were holding and open your mouth to call his name, but as soon as you do, the hairs at the back of your neck stand at attention.

you will never be able to explain what you saw that day.

you'd heard of the musou no hitotachi in stories, but never in your life had you ever thought you would see it before you like this. reality itself seemed to tear apart before your very eyes, revealing nothing but an ominous violet eye. it's quickly replaced by the raiden shogun, who lunges out of it at breakneck speed. the soldiers around you are stunned into silence as they watch who the shogun is aiming for.

no. no, no, no, no.

she's aiming for aether.

she's going to kill aether.

things go blank after that. maybe your body moved purely on instinct and mind-numbing adrenaline, because really, everything is a blur.

you hear kazuha's choked gasping until suddenly it's not there anymore. you're not there anymore. you don't exactly know when and how you got here, but you've shoved yourself between aether and the shogun's blade, taking the full force of her attack.

there's so much to feel in this moment. part of you recognizes the feeling of raw power and determination; the very same sensation you felt the day you received your vision. you dimly, very, very dimly feel aether's mortified stare burning holes through your skin. if you had the chance, you'd laugh at how stupid he must look.

but the most obvious thing you feel is pure agony.

you were quick to activate your vision to somehow soften the blow of the shogun's blade, but as everyone with common sense knows, hydro and electro don't mix. and as expected of the electro archon, her strikes are powerful -- your arms rightfully feel as though they're going to fall off.

they can't. you know that that's no longer your decision to make, but if you fall here -- if you lose this stand-off -- who will protect aether? who will love him in your stead? with a sharp cry, you pour all your strength into pushing the shogun's blade up and away from your body, ignoring the way you can feel blood starting to soak your hands. perhaps the hydro archon took pity on you, because you successfully parry the raiden shogun's blade.

there's no time to celebrate. immediately, the shogun's shocked expression smooths itself out and she lunges again -- for you, this time. she'd clearly done it with intent to kill, because you barely managed to block the strike, and the strength of it sent you flying back down the stairs, where the resistance soldiers barely managed to catch you.

after that... well, you don't know what happened after that. when you come to, you're laying in an unfamiliar futon bed. you blink rapidly, groaning when the sunlight nearly blinds you. to say that you're in pain would be a vicious understatement. your arms are stiff and numb, your ears are ringing, and every breath you take feels like someone is cutting at your insides with each inhale.

you cough, wincing at the metallic taste in your mouth. the events in front of tenshukaku plays out once more in your head, and you groan again, louder this time. intervening and basically stopping the musou no hitotachi would be a fun story to tell people once you've recovered, but as of right now, you feel nothing but regret.

the regret is quickly replaced by relief, though. because at the end of the day, you managed to save aether's life. surely, you tell yourself, he retreated with the resistance after that incident. you smile bitterly as you remember the argument you had before. maybe he hates you for getting in his way like that, but you could make peace with that; so long as he's alive then--

"you're awake! traveler, they're awake!" a high-pitched voice cuts through the persistent ringing. you can't move your neck too much, but you manage to turn enough to see who yelled. it's paimon. she's frantically looking between you and the sliding door. "paimon's so glad you finally woke up!"

"finally?" you croak. "what are you--?"

a pair of footsteps stops near paimon before there's a soft thud and a sudden weight on your torso. you crane your neck up a little to get a better look at your visitor. as soon as you spot golden hair, your lungs close, forcing you to cough.

"oh, paimon will go get water! paimon'll be right back!" the little fairy disappears into her cloud of stars. she returns quickly and helps you sit upright to drink the water, but makes the sudden decision to leave you alone with aether.

the silence is so loud.

you have no idea what to say to him. the last time you'd spoken, he was threatening to break up with you. you were already prepping yourself for the post-break up healing process, so why..?

"it's been three weeks." aether finally speaks. he looks up at you, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. was he... crying just now? "you were asleep for three weeks."

wow. there's a lot to unpack. you say the first thing that comes to mind.

"why are you," you pause for a second to cough, "here? i figured you'd break up with me."

aether grimaces. you wonder what's going through his head. you continue: "if you still want to break up, then..." you suddenly feel a new pain blossoming in your chest. it brings you to tears faster than any cut ever could. "i won't stop you, i--"

"you wake up from a three week long coma after saving my life and you think i'm just going to dump you?" aether looks horrified by your words. stray tears drip from his eyes. "i visited every single day after--" he chokes up. "after what happened. i'm sorry; i shouldn't have been so mad at you, i know you were just looking out for me, and i-- archons, this is all my fault--"

you cut him off then. "aether, i saved your life because i wanted to." you rasp. breaking up or not, the fact remains that you are wholeheartedly in love with the traveler from beyond the stars. you would do it again in a heartbeat -- suffer the same wounds over and over and over if it meant that he got to live another day. "i did what i did because i love you; no other reason."

aether sniffs and avoids eye contact. you can tell him it's not his fault all you want, but that probably won't change a thing for him. you can't convince him otherwise either -- not in this state. you're bruised, battered, and numb; you're not in any position to tell him to stop worrying. but that won't stop you from trying. "c'mere." you beckon him over.

he does as you say.

"a little closer."

he's a few feet away now.

"just a liiiiittle closer, c'mon."

aether hesitantly obeys. he's close enough that you can feel his shaky breathing. you rest your forehead on his, suppressing a hiss of pain from the movement.

"i love you." you whisper. you can sort of see him flinch. "i'm glad you're okay."

there's a long pause before aether chuckles shakily. "that's my line," he whispers back. "i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. i don't know what i can do to make it up to you, i--"

"don't do anything," you interrupt. "i don't want anything from you. just stay alive; that's all."

aether sighs. "...that's all?"

"that's all."

✧ — 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 — ✧

despite being one of the most level-headed people you have ever met, kazuha somehow also manages to be one of the most reckless.

granted, he almost always had a reason, but that didn't change the fact that you developed a fear that his recklessness would get him killed someday.

it didn't help that kazuha used his anemo vision to his advantage each time, channeling the element to boost his speed whenever he needed it. you sometimes wished you could hide it from him, but it was obvious why that was a terrible idea.

as a compromise, you decided to aid him in his ventures. you figured that so long as you were present, you could, at the very least, pull him out of danger at the last second; your own electro vision granted you enough speed to match him at times. you relied on your own battle prowess to keep up with your boyfriend -- something he greatly appreciated.

because the last thing you would ever do is clip the wings of someone like kazuha. you may as well be the updraft that keeps him in the air.

the fact remains, however, that you will lag behind him at times. kazuha is trained to be quick -- to avoid the eyes of others. his quick thinking is what usually leads him to victory most of the time, even in a pinch. so sometimes, you don't even get the chance to help before he's finished the job.

"you're too fast, kazuha," you panted one day after training with him. "what if you get hurt?"

kazuha hummed, tapping the hilt of his katana. "what guides me through battle is not the possibility that i may fail, but that i will succeed without a scratch."

you frowned at him. "and what if i can't be there to help you when you need it the most?"

bandaged fingers hooked themselves under your chin gently, tilting your head up. kazuha leaned in and kissed you with all the gentleness of a passing breeze. "you are always with me," he said. "and if i may be completely honest, i would much rather be hurt than watch you injure yourself on my behalf."

you couldn't say anything to that.

all you could do was hone your skills.

if you were faster, stronger, more agile, maybe you could keep up with him -- surpass him, even. kazuha thought your desire to be better than him was endearing, but he accepted the challenge. he trained alongside you as often as he could, and you found that you started to make progress.

you were quicker during hilichurl ambushes and fatui run-ins, but if neither of you broke a sweat, you felt it didn't count. you somewhat longed for the day you could completely protect kazuha with your new skills and brag about how much better you were.

when you got your chance, however, your self-imposed competition was the last thing on your mind.

to bear witness to the musou no hitotachi was an honor, especially as a citizen of inazuma. especially as an electro vision holder, you felt as though you could someday produce something of your own -- something as legendary as the raiden shogun's musou no hitotachi.

it was a childish dream, but vision holders are, after all, known for their ambition.

your heart all but stops as you watch the raiden shogun target the blonde traveler. you'd grown close to him during his time here, and whenever you weren't training or helping the resistance on the front lines, you were asking him how you could help him find his lost sister. he opened up to you and you to him, and you thought it safe to say that you'd found a truly close friend in him. but as he -- and the rest of the resistance -- looked death straight in the face, you found yourself paralyzed.

this wasn't what you trained for. this wasn't what you dedicated all your time to. you were supposed to be like the very lightning that you commanded and yet here you were, as stagnant as the air you breathed.

move. move!

a sudden gust of wind from your left nearly knocks you to your feet. you finally get your body to move, hoping to see what just happened. you don't see what produced that wind, but you immediately know who.

you whirl around to see kazuha resisting the shogun, his own blade suddenly looking flimsy as he tries his hardest to push it back. your stomach threatens to rid itself of it's contents when you notice the electro vision glowing beneath his own. somehow, kazuha managed to reactivate tomo's vision and is using both to save the traveler.

it's enough to startle everyone, even the shogun, but it's not enough.

while he does successfully manage to push the shogun back, he also succeeded in making himself a target. again, the shogun strikes, this time he sword aimed right for kazuha's chest.

you're actually not sure how you managed to get there in time. kazuha did it with the help of two visions, but you? you only had the one. perhaps it was all the electricity in the air that came to your aid when you needed it the most. you felt as though you became a stray bolt of lightning for a split second, rushing in front of kazuha in the nick of time.

as for the plan? there was no plan. you just knew you needed to keep kazuha safe. that's been your main goal for months: to keep kazuha alive. you force yourself between kazuha and the raiden shogun's blade just in time, but you don't bring your blade up in time to send it away. you barely hear kazuha's shattered cry of your name before your world begins to warp itself. after that... you don't remember what happened very well.

you're suddenly forced back down the stairs with kazuha, but you don't exactly know how you got there. there's screams and battle cries coming from every which direction and you can just barely make out the figures of the resistance soldiers advancing on tenshukaku, but only one voice stands out.

"...no, no, not again, not again!"

it's kazuha, you realize. even as your consciousness fades, you hear him yelling your name.

when you come to, the first person you see is gorou.

he's leaning on the wall with his arms crossed and eyes closed, his ears flicking every so often as he listens for any signs of trouble. the haze of your mind doesn't clear itself completely, but you squint at him, wondering why he's keeping watch over you. gorou's ears suddenly go completely still and his eyes fly open, fixing themselves on you. "you--"

"uh, good morning?" you wince at the sound of your voice.

gorou blinks a few times. you can't see it from here -- there's too many painkillers in your system for you to make sense of anything -- but his tail begins to wag upon seeing your face. "don't strain yourself," he calls as he exits, "let me go get the healers."

after an extensive check-up and another strong dose of painkillers (since apparently, hydro healing wasn't enough), you think yourself ready enough to ask questions -- ones that gorou hesitates to answer.

he reluctantly informs you that the raiden shogun's blade went straight through you. she was visibly shaken by your sudden presence -- apparently, it must have been because she had intended to kill someone, but it certainly wasn't you. the traveler took advantage of her distraction and rushed her as soon as you went down while kazuha sought medical attention for you as quickly as he could. the doctors said you were lucky that the shogun's blade was fashioned out of pure electro energy. the wound seemed to cauterize itself after being formed; at the time you were impaled, you mostly fainted out of shock. you were severely -- almost fatally-- injured, but you survived.

gorou had a strained smile when he told you everything, his eyes dropping to your bandaged torso.

"in all the time that i've known kazuha," he said, "i've never seen him so shaken before."

you don't ask what that means. instead, you find out firsthand.

after teasing gorou for a few minutes about his constantly wagging tail, he leaves again, presumably to go back to work. he and kokomi must have their hands full after the incident. you lean your head back on the wall and shut your eyes to pass the time, but your peace doesn't last long. your nose suddenly twitches and you open your eyes.

it's kazuha. he's okay.

rather than focus on how he looks, you're preoccupied with the fact that he's standing before you at all. tears of relief spill over almost immediately. "hey," you greet him breathlessly. "how are--"

"are you an idiot?"

what?

"i-i'm sorry?" you barely manage to get the words out. kazuha's voice doesn't sound like it belongs to him. it's rough and abrasive; it's everything he's not. you try to convince yourself that maybe he just needed water or something. that has to be it, right? "what did you say?"

kazuha finally looks you in the eyes but you feel like you're looking at a stranger. his crimson stare is frigid and unforgiving. it's a look that's reserved for people who cross his path -- not you. you jaw shuts with a soft click as he speaks again. "i asked if you were an idiot." his fists tremble at his sides. "you must be, if you were willing to throw yourself in harm's way like that."

is he... is kazuha upset with you? this wasn't the first time you've taken the brunt of his frustration, but your stomsch drops as you suddenly wonder if this would be the last. "i put myself in danger every day, kazuha; what made yesterday any different?"

"yesterday?" kazuha treats the word as though it's offended him personally. "you think that that happened yesterday?"

"yes..? kazuha, where are you going with this--?"

"it's been two weeks." his voice wavers. you see vulnerability creep up on him, nearly bringing him to knees. the knowledge that you've been unconscious for two weeks doesn't shock you (no pun intended) as much as you thought it would considering the severity of your injuries, but it seems that saying it out loud was enough to crack kazuha's entire being. he's lost his usual manner of speech, switching it out for something more straightforward.

"well," you gingerly slide your hand over your abdomen, wincing when you touch the bandaged area, "i'm fine now, so--"

kazuha's beside you in an instant, his fingers locking around your wrist. he's still as swift as the wind he commands. you don't have the strength to pull your hand back, but you whimper quietly when his grip tightens. he lets go immediately. "fine? you call this," he gestures at your body, "fine? you almost died, and you--" kazuha fixes his eyes on your lap. "you think everything is fine?"

clearly, you've misspoken. you don't get to apologize.

kazuha continues, pushing a hand through his hair. "do you have any idea what it's like watching the one you love die before your eyes?"

you don't answer. guilt wires your jaw shut. kazuha's fingers twitch in place. by now, he would've grabbed your hand as means of grounding himself, but he looks almost repulsed by the ides of touching you. almost as though he's afraid of you.

"if you came to my aid because of that foolish challenge, then you're the biggest idiot i have ever known." he grumbles. "if you saw me handle the shogun once, you should have trusted that i would have made it out of there unharmed."

"it's not you i didn't trust, kazuha." you finally find your voice. you don't feel as combative as you sound, but admittedly, you're frustrated by the way kazuha seems to have twisted your motive for doing what you did. "if you were in my position, would you honestly believe that the shogun wouldn't have killed me on the first strike? do you think i help you because i want to be better than you?"

your hackles rise as soon as you finish your sentence. does he really think that little of you? were you alone in your feelings this entire time?

"why else have you been so eager to improve?"

"because i love you, kazuha." your confession is heartfelt, but it lacks the feeling behind it. your body heats up as indignation begins to boil over. "you're not just some rival, you're my lover." you lower your voice. "or at least i thought you were. perhaps i was mkstaken."

that gets kazuha's attention. his eyes are on you in an instant, his expression crumbling. "no, that's not what i--"

"to my knowledge," you hold up a hand, cutting him off, "lovers do what they can to protect each other, even if it meant puttting themselves in grave danger in the way i had. so forgive me for using my new strength to keep you safe -- i didn't realize it would upset you so much."

kazuha grabs your hand and reaches out, cupping your face gently with his free hand, his thumb stroking your cheek. "dove, please, that-- i was just-- i thought i was going to lose you."

you lean into his touch despite yourself. you've never been able to resist him, even when you're furious with him like this. "i thought the same, kazuha," you whisper.

there's a tense silence. the two of you were well-aware that your biggest issue was your overwhelming concern for one another. you knew how deep your love ran for him, but perhaps kazuha underestimated just how far you would go because of it. it's reassuring, knowing that he's not genuinely mad at you, but you can't deny how much he's hurt you just now.

as if he can read your thoughts, kazuha sighs, breaking the silence. "forgive me, my star." he leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. he sounds like the kazuha you fell in love with all over again, his words coated with the sweetest honey. "i was out of line. i was just--"

"worried?" you finish his sentence. kazuha nods when he pulls back, his eyes downcast. you think he looks a little like a scolded child. the corners of your lips twitch. "i know all too well how that feels, kazu'. i understand."

"i thought... that you weren't going to wake up."

"i know."

"i thought i was going to be alone again."

there it is. the root of the problem. you hold your other hand out and kazuha takes it, pressing your knuckles to his forehead with a shaky breath. you give a moment to himself. it seems like he's committing your skin to his memory; solidifying the fact that you're really here -- that you didn't leave him behind. the very thought of doing so scared you almost as much as it did him.

"i'm not going anywhere, kazuha." you say. you feel him squeeze your hands tightly. "i'm right here. i always will be."

kazuha doesn't respond for a second. he doesn't move, but you notice his shoulders are shaking. "kazuha--"

"you know," he chuckles, his voice shaking, "i actually can't think of any poetic ways to express my love for you. can you believe that?"

you blink a few times before snorting. "it's a welcome change."

"you wound me, angel." kazuha looks up at you then. his eyes are teary, but none fall. "i love you. thank you for staying alive."

it's spoken like a prayer, soft and reverent. you smile. "i love you too, kazuha. more than you'll ever know." you pat his cheek and he holds your hand in place, pressing fleeting kisses to your palm. "'till death do us part, kazu'."

kazuha hums in agreement. "'till death do us part."

✧ (waaah it's finished! it's not proofread, nor do I know how many words it is, but @lovely26 i do hope you enjoyed it! thanks for the req and thank you everyone else for reading!)

#z scribbles #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin aether #aether x reader #kaedehara kazuha #genshin kazuha #kazuha x reader #Z SCRIBBLES' FIRST REQ 🥳🕺🏾 #its... 6 am LMAO

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Nikola Orsinov x Reader

Nikola’s pronouns are either she/her or they/them, also I use It once or twice so please don't be offended. The reader, if ever gendered, is only described as they/them. Kinda spoilers for season 1-3, I don’t bring up the unknownings result but I do mention the dance. Kinda Yandere but what else do you expect from a skin mannequin who murders people. Also im trying to mimic the style of Jonny’s writing in some bits so bear with me while I’m trying. Please let me know if there is something I forgot to tag. Honestly I might delete this bc while i worked on it for a long time in still not super confident in my writing so any and all feedback is appreciated.

TW: Nikola related shenanigans, skin stealing, depersonalization, reader has some self esteem issues, slight violence (not to reader), kinda Yandere content. Also, alliteration. In the end the reader gets murdered, but also not super surprised. Descriptions of slight gore.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

The two of you met rather strangely for a couple, not many can say they were hunted by their lover before they dated, but that only made you both closer. She wanted your skin once, but your shifting sense of shelf and sadness within your own skin spoke to her so she felt sympathetic. You weren’t saved, of course no one can be saved, but you were kept, held by shifting hands that hungered for your skin but left it on you.

You understand she has to change, but the name stays the same with your lover. Always Nikola, always yours, but never the same face for too long or it’s fingers itch to take yours. The voices say to take it, they would return it, give it back once they found a new one, they swear with desperate tones, but Nikola knows the truth. If they wore it it would become a slice of meat, and the flesh has no place near you, so they find another face to wear. It doesn't matter how brutal the removal is or how much it pains the victim, she does it for you.

She knew your sadness ran deeper than you let on, and the problem with skin is one that can be easily fixed in the circus. She offers you different faces but cares little when you refuse, more for her and the changing group of nameless things that follow her. Nikola has lived for over 200 years, and she isn't ready to lose you. Pieces of you had to be made unreal so Nikola could keep you, but she was careful to make sure You stayed You and not Them.

Traveling with the Circus of the Other is strange to say the least. The faceless followers will always leave you alone if they want to continue their existence, and there is a clear understanding that your fear is off the menu. That is not to say you are lonely, no no no. You are friends with them, you don’t know which one because their faces change ever so often and giving them their own names would make the faces useless, so they are all your friends. Friends made of a shifting group of pronouns and skin spread far too thin across what could be mistaken for bone but you are no fool, there has never been bone in them.

When it comes to their ‘performances,” screaming is just as common as laughter. Wooden and flesh bodies thrown in the air by Breeken and caught by Hope, and the occasional tightrope walker that hits the ground with a sickening crunch, leaving blood and body parts on the ground. Nikola hopes you will join in with the Circus, they would love to have you as a second ringmaster. If you refuse then violence is kept away from you, but you still see the bloodstains smeared in the tents and the fresh faces of the members.

You have your uses to their master, too. You don’t fear the Stranger, at least not anymore, but you are useful to inspire fear. In a sea of wrong faces, one that looks almost normal makes the others even more frightening. A taste of hope on their victims faces before they see that glint in your eyes that signals to them that you are just like the faceless ones, just as hungry.

Nikola thinks of you as she dances the world anew, and the performance was one of a lifetime. Every eye was on the unknowing and Nikola reveled the love she felt from the stranger. Your smile was the last thing she thought about in the world as it was.

#nikola orsinov #tma #Tma x reader #the magnus archives x reader #tma fanwork #tma fanfic #the stranger #the circus of the other #the unknowing #nikola orsinov x reader

[dameronology]

that’s all {din djarin x reader}

(i’m reposting this bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags and it was stressing me out) 

summary: you’d saved din djarin from himself before. now, with the pain of losing his kid, you’re about to do it all over again. (kinda based on find me here by hayley williams)

warnings: this is...flangst. fluff and angst. swearing. mentions of depression but it’s also a bit ✨positive✨

this is just me trying to be the emotional janitor to...that. i’ve tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but some of the conversation might imply an afab reader but hopefully it’s vague to be completely objective!!

- jazz

anyways i know i already said it but !! spoilers !! spoilers !! spoilers !!

p.s spot the titanic reference 

Grogu was tiny but the whole he left in your lives was massive.

You always knew you were going to have to give him up - hell, that had been the job in the first place - but you hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. He wasn’t your kid but at the same he completely and entirely was. You’d never expected your first parenting experience to be with a tiny green Jedi but at the same time, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next few months were going to be hard; accepting that he wasn’t yours to keep and that he was in a better place was guaranteed to be a long process. It would be worth it in the end but the initial pain was bordering on unbearable.

Din was better at hiding it than you. Admittedly, he did have a thick beskar layer to shield his emotions and pain from the outside world but he couldn’t hide it from you; never from you. Even behind the metal, you could read him like a book. It was a product of spending every waking minute together (his overprotective doing, not yours) and in return, he had learnt every habit and every quirk of yours. He sometimes cursed your ability to read him, especially when it lead to you saying things like you did not just tilt your helmet at me like that, Din Djarin.

He’d been quieter in the days since Luke Skywalker had taken the kid - quieter than usual, at least. Din was already a pretty taciturn person; compared to how he was with other people, he practically spoke your ear off but since you’d landed back on Nevarro, he’d completely kept to himself. It was painful to watch, seeing him rise at the crack of dawn to take a bounty, only to return in the evening with a few more bruises than he’d had that morning. You wanted to say something to do something that would make him snap back to reality, but this was probably his grieving process and you had to respect that. Or, you had to at least try to.

That was, until, it felt like Din was killing both you and him; working himself to the point of exhaustion, barely sleeping and refusing to even acknowledge Greef or Cara. You could deal with him being angsty. You could deal with him grieving. You couldn’t, however, deal with him ignoring you. You had literally vowed to go through all your bad times together and Din Djarin was nothing if not a man of his word. He knew it. You knew it too - and you’d be damned if you’d let him forget it.

It was on a cold - at least by Nevarro standards - morning that you decided it was time to show him some tough love. The Mandalorian had decided to hole out on one of Karga’s old ships that morning, claiming that he wanted to fix it. You were no engineering genius, but given that the old jet’s wings had fallen off, you could see it was past the point of no return and that Din had just been looking for an excuse. He was good at that these days.

‘Din!’ You called. The bay doors were open, but the ship itself was dark and dusty. Tinkering, my ass. As expected, there was no reply. ‘Din! Don’t ignore me.’

Silence.

‘Please?’

You grumbled to yourself, walking further inside the dimly lit ship. Tiny specs of dust were floating in the streams of thin light, leading your path further and further towards the cockpit. Who ever it had belonged it, it pre-dated the Republic, let alone the Empire or new order. You tried to resist the urge to cough, instead choosing to focus on your mission: hunting down the Mandalorian. The tables really had turned, considering he was very rarely the prey.

‘I was talking to Karga.’ You continued - as far as you knew, you were talking to thin air, but you liked your chances. ‘He offered me a bounty puck for...Corellia, is it? For that big, bad guy we didn’t catch last year. You know the one that nearly killed me?’

There was a crash from the cockpit, and you grinned to yourself. It was a little unethical to scare the man out of hiding with your bullshit, but you were getting desperate.

‘I figured it would be good to get out a bit, try and distract myself, you know?’ You continued. ‘So I was gonna borrow a ship and head out there tomorrow-’

‘- like hell you’re doing that on your own.’  

A six foot mountain of beskar suddenly stepped out from the darkness. Normally, that would have been enough to scare anyone, but not you. You’d married that six foot mountain of beskar. That probably gave you more guts than anyone in the damn galaxy -- until they found out he wasn’t actually that terrifying. Not many people would have taken the Mandalorian seriously if they knew he enjoyed having his hair played with.

You held your hands up in the air, stretching out your fingers to show that there was no puck in sight.

‘You lied.’ Din grunted.

‘And you were ignoring me.’ You shot back. ‘’S going on?’

‘I told you. I was working on the ship-’

‘- nope.’ You cut him off. ‘Try again.’

‘Karga asked me to fix it-’

‘- Still no!’ You snapped. ‘We gonna go three for three or are you gonna finally pull your head out your ass and stop lying to me, Din?’

There wasn’t a single person in the galaxy who dared speak back to the Mandalorian - except you. That was what had made him fall for you in the first place. It was like you couldn’t even see the beskar. You’d always seen him as Din, and never as the Mandalorian, or a warrior. You’d made it clear from the day you met that you wouldn’t take any bullshit from anyone, him included, and he’d always respected that.

‘You have been holing yourself away for weeks.’ You continued. ‘I know it’s hard but you have to accept it. Grogu wasn’t ours to keep - he never was.’

Din didn’t response, instead dropping his gaze down to the floor.’

‘Hey.’ You put a finger at the base of the helmet, tilting his head back up to look at you. ‘Look at me. Talk to me.’

‘I miss him.’ He stated; short and blunt. Fitting, really. ‘And it hurts.’

‘I get that.’ You gently placed your hands on either side of his helmet, fingers splaying out over the cold metal. ‘But it’s better to hurt together. Can I?’

Din nodded, signalling that it was okay for you to take it off. You gently tugged at the helmet, momentarily breaking away from him to place it beside you. It was a relief to see his face after so many weeks of having the beskar between you; the soft brown eyes and slightly crooked smile that met you on the other side felt like home. You could have stared at him forever if the galaxy wasn’t so fucking demanding of your presence.

You’d spent far too long on the other side of the beskar, waiting for him to let you in. And now that you’d got him, now that you’d promised yourselves to one another forever? You weren’t going to let it happen again.

You gently pushed back a few tufts of brown hair, offering him a sad smile. ‘You know we made the right decision, yeah?’

He nodded, leaning into your touch as your hands carded through his hair. ‘I know.’

‘So you gotta stop beating yourself up, baby.’ You stressed. ‘Stop shutting people out - stop shutting me out. I know we don’t have the kid anymore but we are still a family.’

‘I lost the ship. I lost the kid.’ Din quietly spoke. ‘I’m just worried that-’

‘- I’m not going anywhere.’ You shook your head, knowing what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth. ‘Even if you paid me. You are stuck with me, okay? Cursed with me till the day I keel over and die.’

Finally, Din smiled. He looked you dead in the eye and he smiled, eyes creasing at the side as he peered down at you, eventually tightening his arms around your waist. He held your head to his chest, ungloved hand gently clutching you as he rested his chin on your hair. The first time he’d clung onto you like this had been after a rough mission; neither of you had been sure if he was going to make it back and when he did, the first thing he did was pull you into his arms and you stayed there for what felt like hours. That was when Din realised for the first time that he loved you - and now, after weeks of isolating himself and shutting you out, this didn’t feel completely different from that. It was just that this time, it was less of a realisation of more of a reminder.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this bad.’ Din quietly admitted.

‘I know.’ You whispered back, voice slightly muffled by his chest. ‘But pain is only temporary. Dark times pass and we’ll learn to look back on this and enjoy the memories. They won’t always be tainted.’

He’d been in a dark place when he’d met you. It was like he’d been treading water, waiting for the riptides to take him, to stake their claim and remind him of his mortality, to remind him that not even the bravest people can forfeit their ability to hurt. He tried. Maker, he had tried. The icy and emotionless impression he gave to strangers wasn’t an accident. It was a survival mechanism; a defense mechanism. One that you’d chosen to ignore. You’d saved him in every way a person could be saved.

Just as the waves were pulling him under, you’d dragged him out; dragged him to the shore and reminded him that pain was merely part of being human. Most importantly, you’d called his attention to the fact that no matter how much beskar he wore or how impenetrable he acted, that he couldn’t avoid being one. He could run away from bounty hunters and Imperials and the thousands of enemies he’d made but the fact of mortality was always hot on his tail.

Now, you were pulling him up for air all over again.

Eventually, pain stopped being a reminder of his humanity and instead, it was replaced by his love for you. His ability to feel things for you. You’d saved him then and now, you were helping him come up for air all over again. Being human didn’t always mean to hurt - it could just as much mean to love.

‘I’ve got you, okay?’ You tightened your grip on him, eyes meeting his. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘You.’ Din replied. ‘I need you. That’s all.’

a/n: ok i realised i published an identical but slightly different imagine to this in october but...clearly i have a type and that type is imagines where the mandalorian confesses that you’re the only thing he needs because i eat that shit up. consume it whole. i am telling you. i have no regrets. my content might is predictable but HELL at least u can rely on something in these wild times❤️

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin fan fiction #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fluff #din djarin fluff #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian spoilers #mandalorian season 2 spoilers

[mrskurono]

a/n: Alright so I have baby feels (bc I’m ovulating, fucking hormones) and like all the kids I ever see are people giving the characters girls. Which, yeah its cute, but you know I want some hq headcanons with boys! So here we are me feeding myself content like a heathen :) tags: timeskip spoilers, fluff, parent!HQ characters, nothing that invovled its just kids headcanons, fem!reader involved  character(s): Kageyama Tobio (hq), Hanamaki Takahiro (hq), Kindaichi Yuutarou (hq), Suna Rintarou (hq)

Kageyama Tobio + Two Boys

;| You know what’s funny, these boys were both 100% planned but Kageyama is that idiot that forgets each time you end up pregnant

;| “It’s positive???”  “Love, you literally circled the ovulation day on the calendar so you could tell Fukuro you’d be late.”  “Oh....That’s right.”

;| They both look like Mini Tobios™

;| He’s exceptionally proud of that in fact, dresses them up in volleyball gear constantly and makes sure each kid has a volleyball

;| Closer in age than he and his sister were. The oldest is about three when the other is born

;| They’re exceptionally close simply by the fact you both do everything with them if Kageyama is working

;| But conversely when he’s not training or working this man has his kids with him everywhere

;| Schweiden group actually loves these two (and you) Romeo adores kids as does Fukuro. Toshiro and Tatsuto are like the best weird uncles they could have. Kourai is just a larger child. And Ushijima keeps crayons in his work locker for the kids (and draws with them)

;| Work takes up a lot of time but in honor of his grandfather Kageyama stresses the importance of family a lot

;| Be default his kids really get along and love each other as well as kinda being momma boys

;| But Kageyama is whipped for you anyways so it would make sense both his sons listen to mom without hesitation 

;| Often mistaken for twins even though ones older

;| Avid volleyball players as they grow up but Kageyama never pressures them to be as competitive as he was, constantly reminded of how bitter it was during middle school and high school to be alone, so Kageyama prioritizes fun before anything else

;| The oldest might follow in their father’s footsteps but both of them always keep interests in other faucets of life that Kageyama appreciates because he wants to see his kids happy how they want to be happy and not just because he’s a volleyball player

Hanamaki Takahiro + Three Boys

;| “Lets have another one.”  “Well, what’s one more.” 

;| Basically that’s how you end up with three kids

;| Makki adores kids and honestly he’s never had an issue with them and they listen to him really well (maybe it’s the deadpan stare)

;| One boy leads to another, then two lead to three, no you were never “trying” for a girl and honestly Makki is over the moon with three boys. Having had just sisters, he thinks it’s terrific

;| They’re close in age, like, 2, almost 4 and maybe 6, you guys wasted no time and really it paid off

;| All three of them are tight knit and at some point you had to worry if they were ever gonna make friends outside themselves (don’t worry they did)

;| While you might not have ended up with three mini Makki’s, they all three have “the stare” that sometimes you get all four of them sitting together and looking at you it feels like a judgement 

;| Really they’re just looking at you but it’s hard when they look so unenthused and judgey

;| Makki is super involved (whether he’s working or a stay at home parent is up to you) Regardless he puts other dad’s to shame 

;| This man adores each of them in their own way and never pushes the volleyball narrative on them

;| One or two of them might but none of them really make something of it. All of them though are incredibly smart and end up being Seijoh kids

;| Uncle Mattsun is their favorite because he has gross stories to tell but Uncle Iwa is a close second because apparently it’s genetic all three boys wanna beat him in something

;| Makki’s pissed because Iwa lets all three of them out do him in whatever sport it is they like

;| Makki is still trying to arm wrestle Iwa

;| All four of you men are incredibly soft and down to earth, Makki still makes time for you even with three kids and somehow makes you feel like the sexiest person alive

;| But no, a fourth kid is 200% off the table

Kindaichi Yuutarou + Two Boys

;| After Kindaichi gets through with his apprenticeship and is working, suddenly he’s found himself as a nervous first time parent

;| Not that it wasn’t planned, you both just stopped trying to prevent it

;| The first one was hard, neither of you will lie but Kindaichi’s dedication to mastering this baby stuff really sold you on another one when he asked if you son should have a sibling

;| A little bit more of an age gap, think four when the second is born, but honestly your first is as touchy and sensitive as their father so being a big brother comes naturally

;| Out of all three of them, Kindaichi’s kids end up the perfect blend of you both. Except the hair, both boys have widows peak and dark hair there was no avoiding it I’m sorry

;| Somehow having the second one was easier. Kindaichi kept them strapped to his chest or packed them around while big brother helped and suddenly you were way more free than the first time around

;| Both boys are incredibly smart and very personable 

;| You joke that at least they didn’t inherit their father’s anxiety

;| Kindaichi finds this less funny

;| Both boys though are avid learners, great at making friends and enjoy volleyball

;| Yeah they end up Seijoh kids again and they’re like class 6 and up, they’re smart its scary

;| Thankfully as adults Kindaichi’s been able to reconnect with or stay connected with everyone so the boys have a huge support net

;| Uncle Kunimi swears up and down he doesn’t like kids, but somehow knows these boys so well that their birthday and Christmas presents are amazingly thoughtful. 

;| The oldest actually ends up playing more professional volleyball while the other one either dips into another sport or works in the healthcare field 

;| They’re both huge momma’s boy’s though and do not be surprised that they still ask for your advice and approval no matter how old they get

Suna Rintarou + One Boy

;| This little shit looks exactly like their father

;| Middle part, black hair, unenthused look, what the hell was the point of carrying him for ten months for him to look exactly like Suna

;| Who obviously thinks its the best thing on earth and gloats about his Mini Me more than he will admit

;| Suna excels in the weirdest parenting aspects

;| Physical touch and comfort? Amazing, can get his son to stop crying instantly. Remembering to do things like point at colors and say the names? Kinda forgets that

;| Another one who packs his kid around but opts for a carrier so his hands are free

;| Does workout with his kid attached to him, Suna ends up being an avid walker/hiker afterwards because it was low impact for you after childbirth and your kid loves the outside

;| Will never allow the twins within twenty feet of his offspring

;| Komori and Washio though? Oh yeah no shows his kid off constantly to those too

;| Gets asked when you’re gonna have another one by the way Suna is so over the moon with the first one

;| Inherits the knack for volleyball like their father has and Suna won’t lie he kinda enjoys it

;| Sets up a net outside and the both of them play a lot

;| Though he won’t admit it, Suna really appreciates Kita’s and Aran’s interest in his kid and feels a little proud when his old senpais tell him what an amazing kid he has

;| Suna always deflects it and says it’s only because it’s your kid

;| Deep down though he’s screaming because seeing his kid toss a ball to another Japanese Olyimic player melts his heart to no end

;| Maybe one more....maybe

#so yea #i have baby feels whatever #its fine #threethoughts #hq #hq headcanons #hq fluff #hq!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #hanamaki takahiro #takahiro hanamaki #kindaichi yuutarou #kindaichi yūtarō #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #kageyama tobio x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #kindaichi yuutaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader

[alesreadings]

Kingdom of the Cursed by Kerri Maniscalco.

3.5. stars.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice sliding like silk over my flushed skin. “What?” My own voice came out breathless. “I am your favorite sin.”

I heard from a friend of a friend, that that dick was a 10 out of 10. —Ale to Wrath, 2021. A little reminder: my review has many spoilers (I'm gonna hide them as "spoiler" or I'm gonna warn you with the yellow emoji, or maybe I forget to tag them because I'm THAT distracted), so, you've been warned, pal. That being stated, I have more things to say. Take a seat. I've waited for almost a year this book because the cliffhanger of Kingdom of the Wicked was *chef kiss* and I was already drooling and simping for daddy Wrath (JAJKSDHKJDF jk or not???). If you wanna join the Wrath team, let me know, I need to fangirl... So, my hype for this book was over the top of the sky; it was fucking enormous. Emilia finally traveled to the underworld, or hell as you will or think, and she thinks she's being escorted by Wrath, but little does she know. Since moment one, you can feel the tension between Emilia and Wrath, and grabs you like a fucking claw. It's wonderful. So, they both travel for the Sin Corridor (for me, 'sin' in Spanish means 'without' so I was reading it like "el corredor sin o vacío" JAJKSHKJDFH follow me for more Spanish classes) and Wrath warns Emilia that the sins are gonna try to test her. aNYHOW, I'M NOT GONNA RESUME THE BOOK FOR Y'ALL BC SPOILER, SO NO. This book is mainly character driven, and it wasn't bad at all. Actually, it was pRETTY GOOD, more than I expected. Nevertheless, if I wanted to punch and kick the shit out Emilia in the first book, here I was on the fucking verge of tears, I swear that I was screaming in silence because our heroine can't put two and two together at first, so it makes you wanna slap her (or beat the shit out of her, just like me). The development of Emilia was also good tho I can't say the same of all of her braincells, so... Y'all figure it out soon if you haven't read it yet. However, I shelved this book as "badass female mc" and "stupid female mc" because Emilia vibed in both sides tbh. The slowburn was SO SO SO SO SO SO fucking good that I was crying, dying, screaming and the devil knows what else, but I was trapped. The romance was gorgeous, bEAUTIFUL. And the way Kerri got me wanting to put both assholes in the same room so they could finally bone was amazing. Their relationship/romance gave me "State of Grace by Taylor Swift" vibes. The fact that I was simping for Pride was funny JAJKSJDHJKDFH. Idk why but I was like "yeah, I'll marry you, honey, come here" aND MY PHONE AND THE HELL ARE WITNESSES OF IT, OMG. I can't say much about the plot because how I said up, it was more character driven and the plot was quickly solved (at least from Emilia because I solved this puzzle really quick, we'll talk about my theories below this) towards the end of the book sooooo. ⚠️⚠️⚠️ oK, SO, HERE ARE SOME SPOILERS, BITCHES, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.⚠️⚠️⚠️ I had many theories since book 1 (yup, I had drank a lot of coffee that day, so my mind was at 100% creating scenarios and theories, and guess what? today too!) and here it was the same, so, you can imagine. And I guess y'all had the same theories. 1. Wrath being the devil. Was I the only one who saw it coming? (Pietro reference, if u know, u know, and how it hurts me) I mean, c'mon, the hints were there. The snake tattoo (I'll talk about that after), Wrath's response to Emilia calling him "Samael", the fact that he hid his interest on the cornicellos, etc. The hints were there! 2. Vittoria being alive. oK, HEAR ME OUT. Before y'all start to say "but she was pretty dead on the first book", yeS, SHE WAS, EVEN I THOUGHT IT AND SHED A TEAR FOR THAT BITCH, but we were tricked and now she deserves all the hell Emilia has for her. Idk why, but the hints kinda were there?? I don't quite remember if Vittoria told Emilia (I might be imagining all of this, so please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong; I have terrible memory, LOL let this be no surprise to you) that she was up to something, or just gave the hints and vibes. IDK, BUT THAT MF ALWAYS GAVE ME BAD VIBES. 3. Emilia being bethroded to Wrath and not my boi Pride. Did y'all see this

coming? I

surely did. fROM THE BEGINNING SHE DID THE SPELL FOR IT (by accident tho) and wasn't like "yeah, you can cancel it because he's an ordinary dude", HA! of course not. We're talking about one of the Seven Princes of Hell; this is another deal. I had other theories, but idk where are them since I wrote them down. If I find them, I'll get back and include them. This book reminded me of ACOTAR and 🤢🤢🤢 (y'all know that I can't stand those books, except for Nesta) lemme explain why. First of all, the matching tattoos🙄🙄🙄. The dark haired dude with supreme ruler vibes (since book 1 I imagined Wrath blond 😳🥺😳🥺 and I kept forgetting that he was not blond), the "choice" thing that HE brought up every 5 seconds, that I was getting tired of aND THAT HE BROKE UP! I was enjoying it until my brain said "bruh, this is like acotar" and decided to fall in a slump for two days, refusing it to move on, but eventually I forgot about it and moved on. Also, chapter 17 was COMPLETELY unnecessary. I felt totally disgusted and found NO point in the book, including chapter 18. 🤢🤢🤢 that lowered my rant. ⚠️⚠️⚠️END OF SPOILERSSSSSS.⚠️⚠️⚠️ Finally, I have something else. Idk if it's just me, but I feel like many authors make the male love interest more likeable and bearable than the female mc. Like, that's the intention at all? Making me simp over the dude? I'd marry Wrath tbh, why would I lie about it? I like him 💀💀💀 So, yes, sir, I'd marry you right now if I could. I felt kind of disappointed tbh. I expected more, but it wasn't that bad. I have to wait another fucking year to read the third book and 💀💀💀💀 Now, if y'all excuse me, I'm gonna summon a Prince of Hell (Pride, perhaps) and marry him, yas. P.S: the fact that I wrote this entire review in English (without using a dictionary to help me with some words) make me proud of myself. Wait, is this a signal to summon and marry Pride? yes.

#kingdom of the cursed #kerri maniscalco #3.5 stars #edit #edits #mine #demons #fantasy #historical romance #historical fiction #historical #magic #witches #witchcraft #reviews #review #fiction #romance #new adult #slowburn #series #stupid female mc #badass female mc #my embarrasing guilty pleasures

[uno-writing]

@queer-verse ‘s ask, it just has a lot of specifics for ep 247 so I wanted to put it under the cut :D🍿🥤🍭🍬🍫🧋

!!!!!MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW!!!!! !!!!!READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!!

*spoilers for 247 lol*

- " those three are never up to any good" ADCYHFUKGTY DO YALL REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS. NO DO U UNDERSTAND THE IMPLICATIONS

- Wellston has seen them together other than the staircase scene,,,, (p sure those three specifically weren't together in season 1 or 2) their dynamic is established common knowledge among the student body??? I refuse to believe there aren't already jokes abt it.

- this is the first sass squad ep. We got sass squad. Ik it was implied heavily in the art uru released during the hiatus and it's been built all thru season 3 but we Got It, it's Canon

- sera was not as mad as I thought she would be lol

- John and sera mother-henning over eachother while Arlo third wheels? Uru is a gift that keeps giving

- lol arlos sigh and him chilling in the bg he's so done w their back and forth

- on a serious note they care sm abt each other 🥺 sera wants what's better for john no matter what it costs her and vice versa.

- God I hope that dream from 245 wasn't foreshadowing

- honestly ik that someone's ability getting affected is the Chekhov's gun for this arc but I don't want anything to happen to any of my bbys

- I hate Terrence. Fite me I remember him smirking in an ep he doesn't feel bad for what he's doing at all

- poor remi needs a fuckin break

- Arlo called him and sera "we"

- "but I don't want his number" "I don't want yours either" damn they're really dragging out this rivalry thing huh there's gonna come a point where to their individual horror they don't mind eachother's company ~le gasp~ and the bickering is going to get worse b4 it gets better

- Arlo and John have Canonically exchanged numbers

- pfffffft John getting stuck w babysitting Blyke, r we Gon see that Blyke John wholesomeness? (I want to go in depth abt blykes issues but I'm too tired rn)

- seriously tho, y didn't they assign John Terrence? John can track Terrence even when he turns invisible, surely that makes the most sense. Guess they'll use that another time.

- John is the only only one who canonically swears. Love it. One of the reasons I love him. It's so funny too bc we would've been shocked to see him swear in the beginning of the comic.

- there's also been one (1) canon flirt between the main cast

- hey remember the fandom calling him asslo? Remember when remi called him asslo and that was the first time we got to his close they are? Remember him hugging remi fybdyjfrukbc

- (uru said spoilers when asked abt romance between the main cast so at least we can expect that. Can't wait to see real flirting)

- THE TEXTING ASDFGHJKL

- OFC JOHNS TYPING IS ATROCIOUS AND ARLO IS A GRAMMAR NAZI WE ALREADY KNEW THAT

- BUT THAT SCENE IS STILL SO GIVING,,, " GET A MAP"

- sera's outfit is also gorge. I think we've seen her wear it before somewhere but it hits different in this episode.

- also the way John's blue shirt flairs out at the waist like a fucking tutu is sending me

- doesn't matter what he's doing, that thing is at a forty five degree angle from his body

- ooh also John w his his hand in his pocket isnt something I knew I needed?

- and that last panel? If I was Terrence, I would be running far away as fast as possible.

- another super long episode, appreciation for uru and her team

- there's like five people total who like your posts and I'm tempted to tag them u guys the anons aren't fooling no one

- Boba anon 🧋

--------

*Flippin Elaine has had to deal with their bs like 3 times before now

*Tbh, I think I’d hate having a strongish healing ability at Wellston

*I don’t wanna get pulling into all the bs lol

*Yeah, Sera didn’t really react to it lol

*I thought she’d be pissed

*But she was just mildly perturbed

*Arlo’s reactions while Sera and John were arguing k i l l e d me

*I think something’s gonna happen with it bc it showed up in 2 different frames all by itself

*It was so funny

*I think another Chekov’s gun is the Ferris Wheel

*I don’t think Terrance feels bad bc this is what he believes is right

*Like it seems like he’s a bit of an extremist for SPECTRE so I think he just believes that taking people’s abilities and putting others in danger is what’s necessary

*Poor poor Remi

*Like seriously

*She just wants this trip to go smoothly

*Arlo and John are like toddlers around each other

*People’s lives could be in danger and the two of you are arguing about swapping numbers

*And Blyke will probs be around Remi the majority of the time

*Why did they not assign John to Terrance???

*Like it makes more sense for Sera to hang around Blyke bc they’re kinda friends

*Plus, like you said, John can see when Terrance goes invisible

*Like I guess Sera sees Terrance as the biggest threat so she wants to take him

*But still, I think it’d be smarter to put John on Terrance

*Like we’ve seen him text Sera and it’s not that bad

*At least we should get some John and Blyke interactions!!

*John wasn’t even trying texting

*So John was probs doing in on purpose to mess with Arlo lol

*It flares out bc his plot armor is so poofy lol

*I think Terrance was also smirking bc he knows how badly it pisses Sera off and it makes him feel powerful

*Like he can make her feel angry and scared for her loved ones and can’t do crap to him while she still wants her ability

*And lol

*I’ve got a lot of lurkers on my blog too that don’t interact other than sending in anon asks (which is fine, obviously. Im just glad peeps enjoy my stuff 😅)

*But yeah, the people that actually do like or reblog are the same for almost every post

*Like I think I’ve got about 7 or 8 regular anons (including you lol) that send asks in at least every other day

*Just bc their asks are similar in the way they phrase things or type

*Every now and then it’ll branch out a bit lol

#unordinary #berriwords #bobaanon

[nighttimepixels]

TALK TO US ABOUT MASS EFFECT I HAVE BEEN AN INSANE MASS EFFECT/SHAKARIAN TRASH PERSON SINCE 20-FUCKING-11 AND LEMME TELL YOU THOSE FEELINGS HAVENOT TARNISHED A SINGLE FRACTION IN THOSE TEN YEARS OH MY GOOOOOOODDDSSSS!!!!!!!

I DEMAND A PLAY-BY-PLAY UP TO THE MINUTE OF YOUR REACTIONS TO EVERYTHING!!!!

you are so valid and I totally see why everyone I've ever mentioned it to loves the hell out of it

aksdjlsdfj I meannnn if you want to hear my rambling about it then hell yeah

Okay, gonna put this below the cut to save everyone else XD also- since I'm not leaving this Mass Effect obsession anytime soon, if you're not interested in seeing occasional posts about it, please feel free to block the tag "night plays ME"~

(mild spoilers ahead??)

((also for real I mean it when I say this is rambling as hell lol, apologies and no stress if absolute no one reads all this))

OKAY SO Mass Effect 1-

Stars help me, I was honestly hooked right from the start?? Like even in Legendary Edition (the combined trilogy just re-released in one "can play it on one system + minor improvements", for anyone who doesn't know) where it's smoothed out, of course it's obvious that ME1 is a decade old... but the foundation for these relationships are all there and gods I love them already.

Like - Kaiden right off the top is a delightful good fightin lad, what the hell. I've heard that he's viewed as 'bland' by a good portion of the fan community but I dunno, he's a delight and even more complex by the time 2 rolls around and you encounter him on Horizon, it was honestly Ashley I was way more meh about - mostly because before you can learn about her family history/etc, she comes off as hella xenophobic and I was immediately offended for my growing space family that she didn't like/trust all the aliens around, pfff.

(she gets redeemed a bit through further actions/evolving thoughts, but I thought in retrospect it was a bummer that they didn't flip the order there, give her a chance to be liked before the complicating factor of being so rude about aliens >:c that then she could grow from... ah well. Apparently she has a good arc but uh, let's just say I chose Kaiden at the "key junction" in the latter part of the game so I won't be seeing anymore of Ashley uh... anytime soon, haha.)

Garrus??? Is??????? The ABSOLUTE best???????????

I liked him from the start, I'm always a bit of a sucker for a rogue-detective "the system won't bring this bastard to justice, so I've got to" type and all their moral shadiness XD But he just gets better, honestly, and where I'm at in ME2 (right before the Reaper IFF mission, as of typing this, with everyone's loyalty!) I am only digging myself deeper into this hole-

-*wheezing* okay anyways -

Wrex is AMAZING I love fightin' middle-aged krogan bastard, gods. Liara is great too, I'm a sucker for a wlw relationship (playing fem!Shepard, so) - buuuut I'll admit she's a bit more one-note in ME1. Last week while I was still on ME1 I remember hearing (while trying to dodge spoilers) that her arc is really good, though. I think they leaned a little hard on the 'innocent but sexy' sterteotype on her (so despite the yikes aspect of a few of the things I've learned in ME2, lol, I actually really like the complexity that's been added to her character.)

Saved Liara first, so by the time I got to Noveria and had the standoff with Benezia there was the chance to have emotions over Liara having to face her TwT and of course, I made the questionable but quality decision to free Queen Rachni heheh. no ragrets

More than a blow-by-blow of my choices though I totally wanna take the chance to say that even in the mild jankiness of ME1 (goddammit, the Mako.... please..... please just go up this impossible cliff I just want to resource hunt-) the way that the lore, both obvious/key to main plot and the lesser/filler/background/world-building kinds... I just love it. It incorporates it well, you can go ham in the codex learning more, or just dive into the basics - it's clearly a complex galaxy (and they do an even better job in 2 of fleshing it out further), and it never really felt overwhelming. It was pretty natural figuring it all out-!

Plus the interesting implications of resource hunting amongst the sapient races, and the little side missions you better bet I did every one of- there's so much rich depth in the story if you do 'em!! (And that lead with that Keeper side mission...? Looking back, damn, clever foreshadowing-!!!)

And oh my gods, Ilios??? hell yeah. I loved that mission so much, especially having Garrus & Kaiden with me when talking to the hologram/computer, and more than anything, that last sprint in the Mako trying to get to the jump before it closed-???

yeet the boi-

Also mannn I love a good setpiece, and having to go up the side of the elevator, space-side?? such a cool setup!!

Plus it felt good having been Paragon enough (as simple as the good v bad vibe system is, I don't hate it, lol) to avoid one of the Saren fights, ngl. And the er, "second fight" with Sovereign-Saren.... hell yeah

... I'll admit I had to double check my choice re whether to save the Council. I did in the end, but I swear, sometimes the way they phrase things I'm like ".... okay but Garrus is right, defeating Sovereign is more important than these few leaders??????" woops. Listen, priorities, is all I'm saying..... (￣ヮ￣|||)ゞ

'Course later they emphasize (in ME2) that there were 10,000 people on that same ship and I was like well I wouldn't have second guessed if I'd known that, I mean c'mon-

Also I did indeed romance Liara in this one, so I got that scene ;Dc But,,,, I also knew by the end that I was totally gonna romance Garrus in 2 since he's an option then finally,,,,, lemme tell you the guilt as I waffled over whether to romance Liara bc of it. hahaha.

Aaaaand Mass Effect 2-

So I'm only up to right before the Reaper IFF Mission, so I don't know the ending, etc etc lol. That said, I've just finished every side mission I've found with the exception of the Shadowbroker Quest and the Arrival Quest (I've heard the latter basically leads into ME3, and the former is best either right before the Omega 4 jump or in postgame).

So from the start - fuck yeah fuck yeah what a high adrenaline start Shepard noooooo but also yes save Joker aH-

The motion comic too hot damn nice job

I loved this setup, seriously - especially forcing Shep into this situation, having to work with/for Cerberus, and the compelling reasoning given behind "why" they do what they do (I especially found it a good point that the Salarians have the Task Force, the Asaris the Commandos, the Turians the- etc... like, true, when you put it like that, having a similar group advancing human interests/solving human interstellar problems is pretty reasonable...). That said, I love too that it really isn't shied away from how Cerberus is nonetheless fucked up - or its at least done fucked up stuff.

Listen, I still think some messed up stuff is gonna be revealed in 2's endgame......... after that Horizon mission and the Collector's ship???? TIM I SEE YOU YOU SHADY MF-

aaanyways lol...

I'm so so glad on a gameplay level they nixed the Mako style exploration. A few Hammerhead missions are fine and a lot more focused than the slippery ass navigation in that glorified ATV, pfff. The probes are a neat way of getting after similar resources - and more importantly, having good levels and some good hubs (the Zakera Wards, Omega, Ilium, etc) is way way more fun than having a more 'sprawling' space that is.... a lot of empty nonsense, lol.

Then there's the fact that we get Joker right off the bat and you can interact with him so much - and him and EDI??? Get out gods I love them. Kasumi is so right when she says they sound like a bickering old married couple lol. I have a terrible feeling that some shit is gonna happen with EDI..... but I don't think she's evil as-is, at least.

Side-eying the hell out of those "access forbidden" parts of her that she doesn't even know.... and the fact that her AI core has a locked door access................... something's gonna happen gdi LEAVE OUR ADOPTED AI ALONE.

(Also Joker pls stop fracturing your thumb on the mute button)

Also please save me there are so many hot aliens in this game,,,,, the xeno/monsterfuckers really comin' through strong in the sequels............... doin' the lord's work........................................

In general, I love how many levels ME stepped up in two with complexity and interwoven narratives!! Like, to the point it'd be almost a drag to replay ME1, even though it was fun going through it (if occasionally a bit tedious with the cookie cutter rando planet science/mine facilities, lol). Like, just from how fun and interesting ME2 is, mostly! more of all the pre-introduced races, plus new ones, plus more filling in of intragalactic politics, and more interesting implications of all these space-faring races mixing....

Also gods WREX and his planet holy shit,,,,, fuckin' hell yeah my man get their shit together and also adopt Grunt yes good-

And Mordin??? My singing semi-evil scientist best friend forced to confront his choices more than he thought he ever would have???? With some of the best ongoing general report chatter of all the companions??

(when I tell you I choked on my coffee when I talked to him after confirming romance choice w/ Garrus and that 'pamphlet' and 'anaphalactic shot if ingesting-' kajsldkfjsldfjk)

Like, fuck, the fact that they actually dive into the mixed morality and horrors of the genophage, and you can confront Mordin on it, for good reason, yet he still stands his ground, until finally some bits of his loyalty mission seem to... affect him, and I'm guessing might set up things for 3 with him? Unsure, but either way, damn, the fact that they start to dig into it...

And Taliiiii my beloved forbidden alien wife TwT her loyalty mission was SO GOOD. I love how varied they all are?? Getting to defend her and discover what she'd unwittingly been a part of-!!

Zaeed is a bastard but tbh I love that he is and that he's unapologetic in him - and Kasumi omg, best thief. A heist?? Gods, yes- I love our couch lounge chats XD

Samara is..... illegally.......... she's an illegally powerful and beautiful and eloquent MILF...........................

(.... listen I'm sapphic as hell and I'm kicking my own ass for picking her up last aksjdlfksjdfl - but her loyalty mission, damn. And seeing how there's this interesting cultural subset, and the struggle with the Asari in that they unquestioningly accept/respect justicars, but also know that the impact outside their culture is a diplomacy nightmare waiting to happen-)

,.,,,,,T,,, Thane,,,,,

I am weak for morally implicated murder dads okay?? And that voice??? His mannerisms?????? How you first see him, and that prayer after assassinating her...???????? And his history/his people's history with the hanar, gods I love how messy it is, it feels so much more real!

Also Jack is a mess and I love her (and want to get her some therapy, omg), and her and Miranda nearly duking it out after you've done both their loyalty missions??? so good and makes a lot of sense-! Honestly I would love more interactions between teammates on the ship, but there's already so much the devs had to balance I can't blame 'em for minimizing, heh. But suffice to say I also love Miranda and Jacob, even if I'm softest for my alien crew XD Hell yeah Jacob, we'll get loud and spill drinks on the citadel indeed TwT

.... I could write a whole essay on how much I love Garrus oTL Perhaps because he and Tali are the throughlines from 1 on your 2 crew, I have some of the strongest feelings about them... but genuinely, he was one of my favorite companions in the first game, and how you find him as Archangel in two? Getting to help him fight his way out after he's gone nearly 48 hours straight fighting off three gangs alone, jfc. His vengeance quest and what can happen there.... That line? fuck me, that line -

It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Grey? I don't know what to do with gray...

How DARE you come for my heart like this, devs holy shit

(also, some other choice faves so far from the series from him include We can disobey suicidal orders?? and This wasn't in my training manual... [in 1, if you have him with you @ th Thorian fight] and his whole.... pop the heat sink - in his romance ;Dc)

asdasdfksadjfkl like I said I can write an essay on him PFFF suffice to say I'm very looking forward to his romance scene and where things go in 3

But yeah gods I'm just gonna keep rambling if I'm not careful lol. Gods I don't even know what to talk about it's all so good and while I can understand people roasting the obviousness of Paragon V Renegade (v neutral) choices/alignments, I think they do a pretty damn good job in 2 of pushing it further - to the point that there were some times that I accidentally got renegade points and I wasn't that mad, haha. There's so much fun in the interactions that I just have a good time anyways~

I have so many thoughts about TIM (The Illusive Man) and Cerberus.... theories evolving galore............... and like, what the hell!! Omega 4 going to the center of the galaxy is such a cool twist, goddamn - though my heart still breaks at losing Kaiden (his line if you haven't romanced him?? about feeling like he lost a limb when he lost you??? holy shit.... but I also can't blame him for not trusting Cerberus to the point of it affecting his ability to trust Shepard... like fuck Shep go after himmmm) I'm really excited to see where that goes since he comes back in 3, and what the fuck happens with Cerberus bc while I love the fact that obviously there are a lot of people in it for the right reasons, doing good work, there are those that are doing the opposite, and I have a very bad feeling about where TIM will end up landing....

All that said though I need to do the Reaper IFF mission (where I'm lightly spoiled as to getting That Boy, but not how/what happens to make it so - just that it's apparently wise to have all your side missions done before getting him...) and the actual Omega 4 jump. So we'll see what happens and what I think about it from there heheh!

.... major kudos and genuine props if you made it here to the end, I am so sorry for not editing on condensing all this, and appreciate you so much ;w;

#night answers #night plays ME #(yes that's a purposeful pun lol) #((i sure have played myself by starting this series its so good aksdjflskjfd))