#still feelin' them feelings folks

[wombywoo]

the best of us.

#call of duty #cod #mw3 spoilers #john soap mactavish #mw3 #my art #uhhhhaaaghhhh #still feelin' them feelings folks #worked overtime to paint this all day #but I owe my boy that much 🥺 #anyway I'm unwell 🙆‍♀️

[just-jordie-things]

[part three] trouble - takuma ino

word count: 7k warnings: swearing, canon typical violence mentioned, shibuya arc mentions summary: just when she thinks she's got her feelings all sorted out, the shibuya incident has to go and fuck it all up. contents: friends to lovers, gojo!reader, your favorite sappy scene where a finds b injured and loses their mind <3 we skimmed over key points in the arc bc i just couldn't do it folks

part three: "god, don't let me lose my mind" ___

As it turns out, the deeper something is buried the scarier it is when it comes back up, and it was a terrifying sight to have every hidden ounce of her affections thrown back at her face- or more accurately, shoved up her throat.

The Shibuya Incident changed everything.

She’d assumed she’d follow Nanami and his small team that consisted of a first year, Fushiguro Megumi, and then of course Ino.  However, when she arrived on the scene, Ijichi had instructed that she was to find Zen’in Naobito and the students under his supervision, Kugisaki Nobara and Maki.

“I don’t understand,” She shook her head at the manager beckoned for him to show her the electronic paperwork with the order.  “Nanami’s mentoring me for Grade One, why would I be sent away?” 

Ijici anxiously glanced between her and the team of three who also seemed confused by the sudden change in development.

“I- I’m so sorry, Gojo-san,” He stammered.  He never did like making people upset with the orders handed to him, most days he was merely a messenger, however when it came to the Gojos specifically, this was his worst nightmare.  “Here, it’s all here, I- I don’t know why they’d separate you, perhaps more foot traffic? Uh, the station is quite overpopulated and there’s, um, only a few people scouting the perimeter” 

As he holds out his device she swipes it up gingerly, eyes scanning through the order from the higher ups with great speed.  Ijichi gulped down the lump in his throat, praying she wouldn’t break the phone with her iron group.

“It’s alright, (y/n),” Nanami came to the manager’s rescue.  “We’ll be fine, the three of us.  You should go with them” 

She passed the phone back to Ijichi with a small nod of gratitude for his help, and he was quick to disappear, likely off to report back to Nitta.

“They’ve still got me,” Ino grinned from ear to ear, before throwing his arm up against Megumi’s shoulder.  The boy gave him a bored look before shrugging him off.

(y/n) gives him a look that tells him her concern didn’t lie in their ability to handle the situation in the slightest.  The greatest concern right now was that everyone’s cell phones were out of service due to the veil over the area, which effectively cut off all communication between the divided teams.  The idea of splitting off from the two of them- and Megumi- unsettled her.  

Since she’d arrived on the scene shortly after her brother, there had been a twist of unease in her gut.  Like something was terribly wrong.  Or something terrible was bound to happen.

“Unless you’re saying you can’t handle it!” Ino tries to lighten the tension currently laying itself on thick the longer she stands before them, waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

If Nanami told her to go with them, she would.

Ino steps forward as Nanami turns to go over their orders with Megumi again, giving his pupils some semblance of privacy in the hopes of convincing (y/n) to follow the order handed to her.  If she went against what was asked of her, he wouldn’t be able to cover for her if any casualties- property damage or lives- occurred.

If either one of them asked her to stay with them, she would.

She doesn’t react to Ino’s statement, which sends up warning flags in his head, knowing that usually she’d quip back something snarky about how she could handle this entire assignment by herself and blindfolded.

“This isn’t normal,” She tells him quietly once he’s close enough and she thinks Megumi won’t be able to eavesdrop.  She doesn’t want to alarm him, but this gut feeling of hers was starting to eat her up.  “They’ve never split us like this before.  Something isn’t right” 

Ino believes her, already having his suspicions that something was off when he’d arrived with Nanami, but even if he didn’t trust her judgment, he could see the apprehension clearly in her eyes, and that was reason enough for him to understand.

“I know,” He agrees quietly, glancing over his shoulder quickly to make sure Megumi and Nanami were still occupied.  “But it’ll be fine, right?” He tells her hopefully, but the expression on her face doesn’t budge.  She stares at him expectantly, silently begging him to say what she needed him to in order for her to stay.  “We can handle it.  It’ll probably only be a few hours anyways” Instead, he continues to try and talk her down from her worried ledge, unknowingly only pushing her further onto it.

Her jaw clenches as she bites down on her own teeth in order to keep herself from blowing up and saying something reckless.

She lets out a sigh to calm herself down before speaking.

“A lot can happen in a few hours” 

Her eyes shift between his in a rapid movement, trying to convey everything in silence that she couldn’t say out loud.  She’s not sure if it works, but for a brief moment, a flash of disturbance flickers over Ino’s face, like maybe in that second he was able to understand what she wasn’t saying.  Just as quickly as she’d caught it, it was disappearing, and he was smiling again.

“Like two Grade One promotions, yeah?” He asks, holding his hand out to her.

That cracks the smallest of smiles out of her, easing her nerves for just a minute as she realized tonight could be the last thing she needed before finally getting her promotion.  So she takes his hand and shakes it roughly with her enthusiasm.  Ino chuckles to himself, about to pull away with his parting words of wishing her luck, but her fingers tighten around the curve of his hand and she doesn’t let him part from her just yet.

He’s confused when she stares up at him with a grave realness in her eyes, mixing with some other emotion he’s not sure he’s ever seen in them before.  His features soften with his surprise, but before he could ask her what’s keeping her, she’s whispering a threat under her breath.

“Don’t do anything stupid” 

It’s cold and harsh, just like how she used to treat him before shared assignments.  But Ino knows better now.  He understands the look of pure fear in her eyes as she mutters out the words like poison.  And despite the way she’s almost frowning at him, he smiles brightly as he squeezes her hand back with the same fervor.

“I know,” He says, almost cheekily.  She wants to be annoyed.  Maybe even shake him by the collar and tell him she’ll kill him if anything happens to him.  But she can only stand and stare at him with a slight gape of her mouth.  “I promised,” He shrugs one of his shoulders like his words alone were enough to shield him from harm.  “Can’t go back on my word” 

And then their grip on each other is loosening, before their hands fall away altogether, and (y/n) has to swallow the lump in her throat before addressing Nanami and Megumi.

“Report back when you can, okay?” She asks, her weapon of choice already materializing in her hand.

“We’ll see you soon,” Nanami nods his head in acknowledgement.  “Don’t let that old man boss you around.  You can run circles around him” He adds with a hint of a smile on his face.

She nods back at him, already starting to grin from the adrenaline of rushing off into an unknown battle. Her eyes catch Ino’s once more, and he throws up a peace sign with his fingers, tapping his forehead with them to give her half a salute.

“See you soon, partner”  ___

The gut feeling had subsided while she worked side by side with Maki and Nobara, paying as little attention to the head of the Zen’in Clan as she could.  For a little while, she almost considered taking a path of teaching as she aided the girls in their attacks, although they barely needed assistance, they were more than capable of defending themselves.

But it wasn’t long before they were split up, and (y/n) took the first opportunity she could to get back to her group.  It was hard to tell how much time had passed, and she tried not to worry about it as she followed Nobara and Nitta to where they presumed Nanami was.  Still, her heart was pounding against her ribcage with every step she took into the station.

It wasn’t professional of her, but when she found Nanami and Itadori Yuuji, her heart leapt to her throat and was speaking for her without hesitation.

“Where’s Ino?” 

Itadori was excitedly asking his mentor if the woman standing before them now was his sensei’s sister, even going so far as to tug on the man’s sleeve and beg him to introduce him properly.  On another day (y/n) might have been a little flattered, but right now she nearly tunes it out completely as she awaits Nanami’s answer.

“Ran into some curse users that came crawling out of the woodwork… listen, (y/n)-” 

“Where is that?” She cuts him off before he could explain further, and it’s obvious the way her entire body tenses with her impatience.

Nanami frowns, not knowing how to approach the situation calmly, but there was no time to sit down and slowly walk her through it.

“Satoru has been sealed,” 

She blinks, the words barely processing at all.  Maybe because it wasn’t what she was expecting, or maybe because they didn’t make a lick of sense.  Either way, she stands frozen and rigid before them all, not speaking a word.

“The patchwork curse is operating with something far worse that we weren’t expecting.  They had access to the prison realm.  Your brother is currently inside of it.  We have reason to believe that Kenjaku is playing a role and-” 

“It’s Suguru, isn’t it?” 

His name burns in her throat as if it was cursed so heavily just speaking it sent a poison down through her bloodstream.

Nanami’s lack of an answer tells her more than she needs to know.  The information tries to take over her mind, tries to nestle itself in as a proper distraction from what her next steps were going to be.

She casts it aside completely.

“My brother is stronger than the prison realm,” 

Her voice is strong, and certain.  Even with the small group looking at her apprehensively, (y/n’s) positive that there’s no prison on this earth stronger than Gojo Satoru.  Her faith in him as a sorcerer, and as her brother, went unmatched.  He would only be offended if she worried about him right now.  Using Geto Suguru was a filthy trick, however, and he- his body- would have to be dealt with accordingly.

But right now, there was a more pressing stressor she needed answers for.

“Now tell me where Ino is”  ___

When she arrived on the rooftop Nanami had directed her towards, her first thought was that she had the wrong one.  Her chest is heaving by the time she’s bursting through the access door, the plank of wood nearly flying off it’s hinges from her force.

She hesitates for a moment, seeing there wasn’t a fight of any sorts taking place.  Nanami had said there were two curse users, and at first survey, the roof is completely empty.

Save for the slumped over figure left crumpled on the ground, barely propping themselves up with one arm against a box vent.  She almost doesn’t catch him there, her instinct telling her it couldn’t possibly have been Ino himself.  No, it had to have been someone else-

But then her eyes catch the small but distinct shape of a black mask on the ground not far from him, and she’s darting forward with a screech of pure terror.

“Ino!?” 

His name rips from her throat so harshly a neighboring crow squawks and flies away from the startling noise.

It doesn’t take many steps to bring her towards his beaten form, but she’s sprinting the short distance anyways, dropping to her knees without any grace, scraping them up on the concrete upon impact, but the sting goes unnoticed.

She’s panting harder, the wind getting knocked out of her a second time when she properly takes in his face.  It’s so covered in blood she can’t even make out where it’s coming from.  As her hands slide under his jaw to lift his head, praying to any deity that will listen that it isn’t his head that’s injured, she realizes then that her eyes are filling with tears and blurring her vision.

“I- Ino,” And her voice is strained too, coming out in a choked whimper, not nearly loud enough for him to hear her if he’s unconscious.  “God, no no no-  fuck- fuck!” 

Her mumbles turn into shouts as she drops one hand from his face to pat against his chest.  She doesn’t want to be rough with him, but if he doesn’t give her some sign of life soon she was going to smack the back of her hand against his face to spur something out of him.

If she lost him now, like this, then every curse and curse user in this damn city was going to pay the gruesome, ultimate price.

He stirs with the slightest of movements, a small groan coming from his chest which she feels against her hand more than she actually hears.  A gasp of surprise comes out of her, before she’s pressing closer to him, her palm flat against his front, and her other hand secure in holding his head up towards her.

“You can hear me?” She mumbles with more hope than what feels right.

“Uh-huh” 

It’s pitifully quiet, but it’s a distinct answer, and it evokes a sob out of her so emotionally relieving she drops her head, barely hitting his shoulder as tears of every stage of grief pour out of her.  Fear.  Relief.  It all hits her at once.

Ino can barely register the fact that she’s sitting before him now, pressed as close as she could get with her sobs soaking into his shoulder.  But he musters all the strength he can to assure her he was still alive.

“(y/n),” Another pained mutter has her lifting her head, roughly wiping at her face with the back of her hand before leaning in close to hear him.  “The curse users- th-ey h-had-”

When he starts to cough up blood between his words, she hushes him, both hands gently held under his jaw again.  He hisses slightly from the touch, but doesn’t pull away from it.

She’s mumbling something, but his head is pounding too hard to make out what, and his vision is too blurry to try and read her lips.  With the smallest tip of his head, he’s leaning back into the box vent with a shaky exhale.

Even with his eyes closed, the faint blue glow penetrates his eyelids, and he’s trying to gather all the strength he can to lift his head and look at her again.  Although he has a sneaking suspicion of what she’s doing.

The blue light brightens, and he can just barely hear her faint mumbling, whispers sounding suspiciously like begs and pleas, before something warm and solid touches his forehead.

It takes him a minute, but eventually, he’s able to crack one eye open just enough to see what’s happening.

Her hands, still held against his jaw with trembling fingers, are glowing with cursed energy.  The warmth against his forehead was that of her own, pressed close and having her so much closer that the tip of her nose ghosts over his.  Her eyes are squeezed shut tightly, but there’s simply too many tears to be held back, and they fall down her face in steady streams, slipping into the corners of her mouth as she continues to slur through mumbles.

“Just this once… work just this once… never ask for anything again… never need anything more… concentrate… concentrate….” Ino can just barely make out the nonsensical string of pleas tumbling out of her lips, but it’s more than he understood before.  “...has to work… have to help him… think… think… relax…” 

Hearing the pain in her voice makes something in his chest lurch more than when an overpowered foot nearly cracked open his ribcage just moments ago- or was it hours? He longed to bring her some semblance of comfort, but he was too tired to move his arms, and when he tried to say something, his throat was too dry to make any sound.

The most he’s capable of, is the slight tilt in his head, pressing the crown of his head back against hers with the smallest amount of force.

It does the trick, (y/n’s) mumbling halting with a quiet gasp, her eyes fluttering open and staring wide at him, tracking any miniscule movement of his features.

He’s struggling even to keep one eye cracked open, the bruising surrounding it stinging that much more just from opening it, but he wants so badly to give her some comfort of his well-being.  Even if the next breath he takes is his last.

“Ino,” She whispers, her voice heavy with emotion.  “You’re gonna be alright, I’m- I’m gonna-” 

Before she can finish, there’s a short shift in his neck, barely shaking his head against hers.  She swallows thickly, trying to keep down the lump in her throat.

“I am, I’m gonna make it better, I’m- I’m-” 

“s’Okay,” He rasps out.  “Go, (y/n)” 

“No!” She’s louder than she means to be, and she apologizes by pushing a loose strand of his hair out of the sticky blood on his forehead, soothingly pushing her fingers through the length of his hair to keep it from irritating his face again.  She repeats the motion a few more times anxiously, and her head begins to shake against his.  “No- no.  I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere” 

He could almost laugh, recalling being in opposite positions almost a year ago.  If he had the strength, he’d remind her that she’d begged the same thing of him once, ordering him to leave as if she had any sort of authority over him.

Now Ino feared she had too much authority.  He couldn’t bear to have her here if the beat of his heart kept steadily declining.

A faint sound that almost resembled a chuckle is pushed past his lips in a short breath, warm and soft as the air hits her chin.

(y/n’s) brows furrow with her confusion as she continues to push her fingers through the length of his hair.  From the top of his head to the ends at the nape of his neck, she repeats it over and over, almost obsessively.  She distantly recalls Satoru doing the same for her when she was younger and would have panic attacks, and it was the first thing that would calm her down.  Pathetically, she hopes it’s healing power also works for physical wounds.

“s’Okay, (y/n),” Ino repeats himself, his head suddenly feeling too heavy to hold up on his own.  He barely feels his nose pressing against hers before a gentle pair of hands pull him forward, guiding him to lean against something solid, and soft.  His eyes were shut again as he gave into the white hot pain from every second he tried to keep them open.

Her shoulder, she’s cradling his head against his shoulder, it registers in the back of his mind as he recognizes the scent of her perfume in the fabric he was laying against, and ruining with his blood.

“m’Sorry ‘bout breaking th’ promise” He slurs into the material.

“Don’t say that,” (y/n) scolds, but her voice is weak, and she sounds far more afraid than she does angry.  “Please- please don’t say that,” She repeats in an even quieter, shakier voice.

With one hand against the nape of his neck, holding him solidly against her as his body hunches forward uncomfortably, her other hand begins to move in his hair again.

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” Her words were whispered in his ear, so she was certain he couldn’t miss a single thing.  “We promised, didn’t we?” She asked again.  “And I- I made good on my promise, didn’t I? Didn’t I do everything you asked?” Her tears are soaking into his hair now, but she doesn’t feel an ounce of shame as she begs him to find the strength to snap out of it and wake up properly.  “I let- I let myself let you in, I really, really did,” 

Her eyes fall shut in a pitiful attempt at willing her tears to stop.  She doesn’t want to burden him with her fear of losing him, but the emotions crashing over her were too strong for her to take on alone.  Unbeknownst to her, her hands were surrounded by her cursed energy again as they kept him close.

“And now- now you’re too close to me, Ino.  And I can’t- I- I can’t-” She chokes on the words, burying her face into the crook of his neck, earning a small grunt of pained acknowledgement when her nose brushes a particularly nasty bruise.  “I can’t lose you, you said I wouldn’t lose you” 

The hand at his nape grabs the material of the back of his uniform, fisting it so tight her knuckles trembled and ached.

The relief suddenly washing over Ino’s body was so strong that all of his muscles were relaxing at once, and he felt boneless in her hold.

(y/n) was quick to snap her eyes open and pull herself away from him, shaky, fast hands racing to check his pulse as her worst nightmare played before her eyes.

But he wasn’t lifeless in her arms, and if anything, he was relaxed.  His pulse was a steady beat against the pads of her fingers, and he even found enough strength to raise his hand to her cheek.  She watched with wide, shocked eyes as he barely grazed his fingers across her jaw before he was passing out in her arms.

___

When he comes to, his eyes blink a few times to prepare himself for light, but to his surprise, he’s met with darkness.  It still takes a few rough squeezes of his eyelids before Ino’s able to properly open his eyes all the way, and the darkness he was greeted with was properly laid before him as the night sky.

He was outside?

“What the-?” The mutter comes from under his breath, but before he could make sense of his surroundings, someone was scrambling to his side, his name falling from their recognizable, pretty voice like a mantra.

And (y/n’s) voice in that moment was heavenly to his ears.  He wasn’t sure how long he was out, and his mind was foggy when he tried to recall when he’d seen her last, but he had a sinking feeling like it had been a long time, and all he knew now was that he felt pure relief when her face came into view beside him.  Then shortly after, a small hand slipped into his own, squeezing firmly, but not too tight.

“(y/n),” His throat burns hot when he speaks, but he tries to ignore it as he gives her a weak smile.  Everything aches, but he’d try his best to keep his pain hidden.  “How long was I out?” 

“About a day” She murmurs back, softer than he thinks he’s ever heard her speak.  He thinks she’s hiding something, but he doesn’t press for it right away.  He’d need to get his bearings first.

He tries to look around, hoping for something of significance to give him an idea of where he was, but all that surrounds them is a few plots of grass and some shoddy tents pitched up.  There’s a fire burning a few feet behind where she kneels beside him, and his brows furrowed slightly.  What the hell was going on?

“And where are we?” 

Her free hand reaches for his face, and he holds his breath when the tips of her fingers gently push a piece of hair away from a line of stitches just above his previous scar.  There’s a small frown on her face.

“Just outside Yamanashi,” She answers, then quickly adds, “At least I think.  It’s hard to tell without a proper map” 

Ino’s eyes widen so much they almost bulge out of his head, and (y/n’s) quick to react to his shock.

“Don’t freak out,” She murmurs, squeezing his hand gently as she leaned over closer to him.  “You still need to rest, you have a lot of healing to-” 

“(y/n),” He interrupts her, and surprisingly she lets him.  She sits before him patiently waiting for the question she’d been dreading for an entire day.  “What happened in Shibuya?” 

She sits beside him for a long time as she explains the entire incident in grave detail.  Not a single stone left unturned, Ino sits in silence for almost a full hour as she feeds it to him like it was her drafted report on the assignment.

She explains that after she fled Shibuya with his unconscious body, they quickly ran into Megumi Yuuji, and the new ally they’d made out of one of the Cursed Wombs’.  Yuuji was quick to carry Ino on his back as they tried to cover as much ground as possible.  With Shibuya becoming a modern-day wasteland, and Kenjaku’s next move unsure, their only goal was to move.  

And that’s what brought them here, to the middle of nowhere where they could figure out what their next move was.  With only a few survival supplies and limited rations of food and water, it hadn’t been an easy day and a half.

When she’s finished, she remains silent for as long as he needs.  Processing it all- Nanami, Satoru, the first year Nobara, all of Shibuya- would surely take him some time.  (y/n) gets up and pokes at the fire for a few minutes while Ino sits in shock as he repeats it all in his head.  When she comes back over to him, he’s pushed himself to sit up on top of the nylon blanket against the grass.

“You should really lie down and-” 

“I’m alright” He mumbles over her concern, and she simply sits beside him on the wrinkly plastic disguised as a blanket.  She doesn’t push him about it again.

Not knowing what to say, she doesn’t say anything.  Just sits beside him to keep him company while he processes it all.  Truthfully, she’d had little time to really let it all settle in.  With the running and worrying over the length of his unconscious state, there was little time left to think about the aftermath of the whole incident.  She wondered how the others were taking it, if they’d stopped and let themselves think for longer than a minute.  They’d all resigned to their makeshift tents for the night, and she didn’t have it in her to play caretaker and check on them at the moment.  That was always the role Satoru took on.  But tomorrow she’d sit down with them and check in.

“You found me,” 

Ino speaks after a long silence, and (y/n) glances over at him for a brief moment, before returning to stare at the ground.

“After those curse users, after Toji,” He continues, piecing together the vague images in his memory to better understand what happened.  “You found me after that” 

He’s not asking, he’s talking through what he remembers, but (y/n) nods in confirmation.

“Nanami told me where you were,” She says softly.  “I came as fast as I could, but… it wasn’t fast enough” The last part comes out under her breath, full of regret and guilt.

“Seems like you were just in time to me,” Ino says, turning to look at her.  She refuses to meet his gaze, too ashamed by her delayed arrival.  “For a minute there I didn’t think I’d see you again.  Thought I was a goner.  You’d be adding my name to the…” He trails off, not quite wanting to address the long list of lives lost in Shibuya.

And he notices she tenses up, one of her hands fisting a handful of grass, ripping a few strands straight from the dirt with her tight grip.  Ino frowns, and shuffles over to sit closer to her.  Until they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder.  He groans as he pulls his legs up, resting his arms over his knees to get more comfortable.  Everything feels stiff, but he tries to push past it.

“You figured out the Reverse Cursed Technique, hm?” He asks, trying to change the subject.  He gives her a small smile at the accomplishment, but she’s still not looking at him.  “That’s pretty huge.  You’re surely a functioning Grade One sorcerer now” 

That’s when she finally turns her head to meet his gaze, finding nothing but fondness in his eyes as he smiles at her.  He’s proud of her, she realizes, and she can’t believe that now of all times he’s trying to comfort her.  Takuma Ino was too good for this world.  And he was certainly too good for her.

“I don’t care” She mumbles, shaking her head back and forth as her eyes flicker over the healing cuts and bruises on his face.  The few stitches he needed looked a bit gnarly as they’d been done in a rush from shaky hands.  A frown tugs on her lips the longer she takes in his injuries.

“You should,” He tells her.  “You worked for a long time for it.  And you’ve earned it,” 

She’s quiet for a moment as she takes in the statement.  The injuries she’d sustained had healed by now, but her chest still hurt somehow.

Slowly, more and more of his memory comes back to him.  He can remember the way she’d sobbed, pained wails that came from so deep within her he could hear it now in his memory.  They could’ve easily been mistaken as the screams of a woman tortured, the way she’d cried out his name.  He thinks he can recall her crying the entire time she tended to him.

“I’m sorry I scared you” He tells her suddenly, and her eyes widen in the slightest at the apology.

“Scared me,” She repeats in a small mumble, lips barely moving.  “That doesn’t even begin to explain what you put me through,” 

He frowns with his guilt, and he wants to remind her that he’d told her to leave.  Although if she had, he might not have woken up again.

“You…” She trails off as she thinks twice about what she’s going to say.  “You have no idea what you put me through,” She admits in a smaller voice.  

Her eyes flicker between his as she watches him process the confession, before she continues.

“I don’t know what I… I don’t know how I did it, honestly.  I’m not sure I could do it again,” She explains.  “I just remember feeling so… hurt doesn’t even begin to explain it.  I was terrified, Ino.  I thought you were…” She shakes her head, a lump forming in her throat at the mere suggestion of what could have happened to him.  “I was so scared” She mumbles weakly, her brows drawing together.

Hesitantly, Ino lowered his hand until it rested over hers.  She loosened her grip on the grass, relaxing just the slightest amount from his touch.  Her heart was still racing as she recalled the way he’d barely been able to move, or how he’d tried to apologize for breaking his promise to her.  It was like there was an invisible, but iron grip on her throat, squeezing all of the air out of her lungs as she looked at him now.

“You’re my hero now, you know,” He murmurs, tilting his head a bit as a tiny smile stretches over his lips.  “You saved my life” 

Her hand twitches under his, and it shakes as she releases the grass in order to turn it over, slotting her fingers between his.  She squeezes, hard, making sure that he would be enough to anchor her to reality.

“You saved mine, too” She whispers back, the burn in her throat evident in the strain in her voice.  Against her will, her eyes gloss over with tears.

He gives her a sad smile, and squeezes her hand back.

“Don’t cry,” He pleads quietly, his body angling towards her as he reaches his free hand out to her face, palm hovering just over her cheek as he wipes away her single tear with the rough pad of his thumb.  “Please,” He added softly as her eyes bore into his like she was trying to penetrate his skull and read his thoughts.  “Don’t think I can handle hearin’ you cry anymore” He admits.  

(y/n) let’s out a watery and humorless little chuckle, another tear falling to her cheek that he’s just as quick to dry away.  She leans into the hovering warmth of his hand, pressing her cheek against it with only the thought of being comforted by him on her mind.  Ino’s quick to spread his fingers across her cheek and jaw, unconsciously pulling her closer as he did.

“You remember that?” She mumbles, and he nods back at her.

“Don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it,” He tells her.  “You scared me too, y’know” 

Her brows furrow at him.

“I did?” 

Ino nods.

“I didn’t like… being separated,” He admits slowly.  “I know you were fine, hell, you were better off than I was, but… not knowing where you were or if you were safe was…” He clenches his draw, and (y/n) nods at him in understanding.

“I would’ve stayed,” She murmurs.  “If you’d asked me to stay, I would’ve stayed” 

Ino’s not sure if his heart was going to burst in his chest or sink to his gut.  All he wants right now is to wrap her up in his arms as tight as he can and never let her out of his sight again.

“I know,” He whispers back, making her frown.  “But I couldn’t do that.  It wouldn’t have been right.  Your team needed you,” 

Another tear makes it’s way down her cheek, but it doesn’t get far before he’s brushing it away like the others.

“I didn’t want to do anything to stand in the way of your promotion,” He says, and she frowns back at him.  “It wouldn’t have been fair-” 

“That doesn’t matter to me, not right now- maybe not at all,” She cuts him off before he could explain himself, and he looks shocked.  Rightfully so, since meeting her he’s known that becoming a Grade One was the only thing that mattered to her.  His lips part and his brows furrow, but he doesn’t know what to say, so she explains herself first.  “Ino, I really thought I was going to lose you,” She tells him with a tight squeeze of his hand.  “That promotion has been the farthest thing from my mind.  What would it have mattered?” She shakes her head as she watches him, sniffling just a little before speaking again.  “It would have meant nothing, if you weren’t there with me, too,” 

Ino softened then, his thumb stalling from it’s gentle tracing of her cheekbone as he took in the sincerity of her words.

A year ago, she might’ve told him to eat shit if he’d something of the same sort to her.  Six months ago she would’ve laughed it off and deflected like it was some kind of joke.  Right now, he thinks his heart was going to fall right out of his chest and into her awaiting hands.

(y/n) shuffles anxiously the longer he sits in silence.

“Ino, say something” She mumbles, hoping he wouldn’t make her beg for some sort of reaction.

He chuckles, his thumb moving over her cheekbone once, then twice, before giving into temptation and curling his fingers around the back of her neck to pull her in closer.

Her eyes are shut before his lips slot themselves over hers, but despite leaning into the kiss there’s a small squeak of surprise that dies in the back of her throat when their lips touch.  She kisses him back with as much fervor as she can while still being mindful of his injuries.  She only hopes that he can feel the outpour of emotions with every kiss, the soft sensation of each one leaving a tingle on her lips.  

Her hands reach out to lay at the base of his neck, her touch nearly featherlight with how gentle she tries to treat him.  Ino’s less careful, pulling her closer until she finally gives in to deepening their kiss, paying no mind to the dull ache in his jaw.  It was easy to forget when her perfect soft lips fit against his like they were made to be kissed by him.

After pulling away for a breath of air, he places one more kiss on her lips, lingering for as long as he could before finally parting from her.  It takes her a minute to open her eyes, still reeling from the sudden affection.

With her heart in the clouds and her mind in a lovesick haze, she was still lost in the heavy feelings that were the way she felt about him.  Ino chuckles when his eyes open only to find her lost in a daze, sweetly cupping her face in both hands and keeping her as close to him as he could.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, lips ghosting over hers, sending a shiver down her spine.  She finally looks up at him, catching her lip between her teeth to keep herself from grinning too hard.  “I just wanted to do that for so long.  Couldn’t wait anymore” 

A breathless little laugh falls from her, her hands sliding around the nape of his neck so her fingers could mindlessly play with the soft locks of hair that fell there.  Her cheeks were undeniably warm, and Ino could feel them when she pushed closer to brush her nose against his sweetly.

“Wanted you to do that, too” She murmurs back, and the smile Ino gives her is bittersweet.

He sighs softly as he pulls her in gently, just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, the weight of the apology hanging thick in the air.  

She doesn’t want to talk anymore about what’s happened, doesn’t really want to think about it either.  Going through it had been rough enough already, processing it was going to be a bitch.  She has to shut her eyes to hide the emotion, or at least, keep herself from crying again.

“I’m so sorry,” Ino repeats.  “And I’m sorry I was out for so long” 

“That’s nothing you should apologize over,” (y/n) chided through a breath.  “I’m just relieved you’re alright, that’s all that matters to me right now, okay?” 

He tilts his head away from hers, just enough to look back at her.  He frowns when her eyes are squeezed shut, thumbing gently at the top of her cheekbones to pry her into looking at him again.  It takes her a minute before opening teary eyes.  Even with her packing up the last day and a half into a box and forcing it into the darkest corner of her mind, she couldn’t hide all of it from Ino.  Not when he stared at her as if he could see straight through to the soul.

It’s a blurry memory, but he can vaguely recall the way she’d cried while holding him.  Clearer than the image is the way her voice cracked and whined in his ear, I can’t lose you, you said I wouldn’t lose you.  He’d held his promise this long, and Ino very much intends to stick to it.

He plants his lips at the crown of her head, and the comforting affection surprises her a bit, but she just as quickly falls into him.  Her arms loop around his neck and her fingers dig into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as if he alone would keep her in this moment, and away from that dark corner.

“Still,” He insists quietly.  “I should’ve been there for you,” 

(y/n’s) not sure she’s ever felt love swell in her chest the way she does now.  It washes over her in a heavy wave, filling her with relief, and warmth, but most importantly hope.  For the first time, she doesn’t fear it, or discard it as a pointless venture.

Things were different now, she decided, her eyes moving between his and the injuries still littered across his face.  They would heal just fine, but they were still a gnarly sight to look at now.  It made the warm relief in her chest begin to burn.  So things were different now because they had to be.  Things were different now because she had something she was going to fight for.  

Love wasn’t pointless.  Love was what was going to push her through whatever horror was next in line.

“Cause we’re partners” Ino finished, his brows twitching ever so slightly as he watched something unknown flash in her eyes.  They light up for a moment, before she’s nodding back at him, staring at him with the utmost sincerity.

A small “yeah,” is whispered between shaky nods, and her grip on his shoulders tightens just enough for Ino to notice.  His lips tilt upwards.

She’s still quiet when she speaks, but it’s not due to the lump in her throat.  It’s from true, genuine love pouring out of her so openly that her voice is practically snatched from her.  She squeezes his shoulders once more.

“Partners” ___

a/n: well that was my 23k word ino fic that i had to split up bc it was too damn big. laugh it up how in love with him after thirty seconds of screentime

#takuma ino #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino imagine #takuma ino fanfiction #ino x reader #ino imagine #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✯ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The second tornado of the summer happens upon Silverkeep. ✯ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.5k ✯ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✯ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐓𝐗 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖

It doesn’t often storm in Silverkeep, especially during the summer season. But when it does--when those moody clouds roll in from the west in ominous waves of endless black, heavy with rain and thick with thunder--it rains hard. It starts sometime during the night, long after you and Jake have gone to sleep in your own bedrooms. 

He’s a heavy sleeper and doesn’t stir when the first flash of lightning breaks the sky open. He doesn’t stir when thunder shakes the trailer or when rain starts pattering against the naked screen of his window. 

You’ve always woken up to storms, ever since you were little. You used to be afraid of them, nosediving into your parents bed and clinging to your daddy at the very first sign of rain. But now that you’re older, and maybe a bit wiser, you don’t run into your parents room. You just blink yourself away and watch it roll in, the sleepy town alight with electricity each time lightning cracks. 

Jake only wakes up when Fran knocks on his bedroom door at four in the morning. It’s not a frantic knock, but it’s enough to jolt Jake right out of his slumber. He’s swiping drool off his mouth and sitting up, his comforter tangled around his legs and his hair standing up in every direction. 

“It ain’t lookin’ good out there,” Fran says through the door, her voice thick with purpose. “I told Filly and them to come on over. I don’t got a good feelin’ about them clouds.”

Jake is out of it. There’s a sheen of sweat over his skin and his eyelids are crusted over and his breathing is still deep and even. He has no idea what his mama is talking about. 

“Mama, what’re you--?”

But then he hears it: the sirens. Tornado sirens. So, then he’s detangling himself from the bedding he’s laying in, springing himself out of bed and pulling on whatever pajama shorts he kicked off in the night. He’s still trying to wake up, tired aching his bones, but he’s moving rapidly. 

Fran opens her only son’s door and beholds him in his dark room for a moment--his chest is rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks paled and his feet bare. She can tell he only just woke up--he’s a heavy sleeper just like his daddy. 

“Jake,” she says softly, sternly. He looks up at her, his teeth sunk into his lower lip. “You go on and grab Callie. Brandy and Harper are in the cellar. I’m gonna grab some flashlights and wait on Filly and her folks. Alright?” 

Jake nods. His ears are ringing. The wail of the sirens is loud--so loud that he can feel it in his bones. He can hear the thunder and lightning now that he’s awake and standing upright, too.

Fran looks as bewildered as she always does, but Jake feels like she’s anchoring everyone here now. She knows what she’s talking about and everyone here knows better than to not listen to her. 

“Yes, mama,” he mutters. 

He jams his feet into old tennis shoes, socks be damned, and hurries himself to Callie’s bedroom across the hall. It’s less of a bedroom and more of a linen closet, but it’s quiet in there without any windows so Callie is sleeping soundlessly. 

“Cal,” Jake says, his voice thin. She doesn’t stir. “Callie-girl, c’mon. We gotta go.” 

She shows no signs of moving, sprawled across her mattress with her mouth wide open and her eyes shut tight. 

Jake’s belly is starting to turn--especially when another crack of thunder shakes the trailer. So, he just leans down and scoops Callie up in his arms. Really, she’s too big for him to be doing this. He should wake her up and have her walk. But there’s a sense of urgency charging the air now, one that’s tingling his fingers. 

“What are you doin’?” Callie asks as she comes to. She’s vaguely aware that she’s being carried by her brother and that he blanket is dragging behind them as he hurries both of them down the hall. “Jake, what the Hell?” 

“Would you just listen?” Jake snaps, nudging the backdoor open. 

It wails and groans, just like it always does, and then they’re outside. It’s green, just like it always is when there’s a tornado. An uneasy haze settling over the disjunct swingset and flooded sandbox. The rain is pelting the patchy grass and slicing into Jake’s skin. Callie covers her face and Jake tugs her closer to him despite himself. 

The sirens are louder out here, loud enough that it’s making Callie’s ears pulse. She gives in to Jake carrying her, wrapping her arms around his chest, forgetting all about her blanket dragging in the mud behind them. 

“C’mon!” Harper calls from the cellar doors, waving Jake over. “Get in!” 

He lets Callie go in first, setting her on the concrete stairs. And then he nudges Harper. 

“Y’go on,” he tells her. “I’m gonna wait for mama and Filly.” 

Harper doesn’t need to be told twice--she’s soaked to the bone and her perm is going to fall out, she just knows it. She tried to wrap it up with plastic grocery bags, but the wind knocked them askew and now that’s two hundred dollars Curtis is never gonna see again. 

The air feels perfect--he knows that’s trouble. It ain’t too hot and it ain’t too cold and that’s when tornadoes like to touch down. He can see lights coming on and off in the house as his mama flounders around for rations and blankets and towels, but his belly is turning waiting for you and your folks. 

“Just come in, Jake,” Brandy says from the cellar, throwing her hair up in a ponytail. “C’mon. They’ll be fine!” 

He glances down at the cellar, which is lit by a measly lantern. It’s an ugly and dirty thing, but it’s spacious. There’s jars of fruit preserves and Christmas decorations stuffed down there, lining the dirt walls, but there’s still enough room for everyone. 

“I’ll close the doors, alright? Get back so you don’t get wet now,” Jake says. It isn’t often that he gives his sister’s this kind of grace and humility and it isn’t often that they accept it. But they do, shuffling back. He grabs the big doors and nods once. “You’ll be alright.” 

Just as they fall closed, he hears it. Footsteps slapping the mud, hollering. 

He squints through the green haze of rain and sees you, your mama, and your daddy sprinting across the side yard. You’re all soaked to the bone, hurrying across the mud and holding each other’s hands. 

“C’mon,” Jake calls, waving y’all over. “Almost there!” 

Fran appears at the backdoor, carrying heaps of towels and food and flashlights. And before Jake registers what’s happening, your daddy is hurrying over to her and taking a load of her items as you and your mama hurry to the cellar. 

Jake pries the doors open, his heart in his throat, and lets your mama down first while she tries to wipe her face dry in vain. You pause before Jake, your hair flat and clinging to your head, and give him a grin. 

“It’s the end of the world,” you tell him, mockingly holding your hands up and ooo’ing. Jake scoffs, nudging your shoulder. “At least we’re together!”

“Get in the damn cellar,” Jake tells you, biting a grin. 

You salute. 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Jake, you go on and get in now!” Your daddy calls, his voice booming across the yard. He’s helping Fran cross the mud, squinting. “S’alright!”

Jake climbs into the cellar, then, leaving the doors open. It smells like cinnamon and dirt down here, a scent he is not very fond of. He doesn’t like being in the cellar, especially during tornadoes, and he wishes he was back in bed. 

“My hair,” Harper cries, ripping the grocery bag off her head. Her curls are wet. “Damn rain! Dammit!” 

“Oh, honey,” your mama tells her, moving to hold her shoulders. “It’s okay, we can fix it!” 

“You ain’t supposed to get a perm wet,” Brandy tells your mama. She’s already rolling her eyes at Harper’s antics. “Dummy.” 

Your mama tuts. 

“Hush now,” she tells Brandy. She grew up with sisters--she remembers what it’s like. “We’ll take care of it, alright? Don’t go worryin’ yourself about it. It’ll be just fine in time for the weddin’, okay?” 

You’re watching your mama silently. It’s dark in here, but you can still see the softness etched onto her pretty features. She understands the Seresin girls much better than you do--all that crying and whining about makeup and hair and nails. It’s something you don’t have an interest in, something you can’t get yourself to fret about. When your mama pulls Harper onto her shoulder, tutting and sighing as she cries, something in your chest suddenly feels hollow.

“Jesus,” Fran says as she steps down the stairs, dropping the towels and flashlights on the floor. “Wetter than a mad hen out there!”

“Mama,” Callie sighs. “You got it all turned around. 

“It’s called making it applicable, girly.”

Your daddy pulls the cellar doors shut and everything grows quieter and darker. Everything’s okay now--everyone is here, everyone is safe. 

“We all alright?” Your daddy asks, looking around at everyone’s flaxen faces. “Filly?”

Swallowing hard, you nod. You won’t look at your mama and Harper. 

“I’m okay, daddy,” you say. 

“Good,” he says. He sighs. “Christ, we might be in here for a minute.”

Jake settles in beside you, sinking onto the cold floor. You don’t move, still watching Harper and your mama. But then Jake is tugging on your arm and you give in, blinking yourself out of a daze and joining him on the dirt. 

“You’re cold,” Jake says when he feels your chilled skin against his. He wraps an arm around you and pulls until you’re tucked up against his side. He grabs a towel, pulls it to the two of you, then throws it in your lap. “Dry off, Filly. You’ll freeze.” 

You pat your arms dry but don’t try and dry your hair or clothes. Your tank top is thin and your shorts are even thinner. Your hair is dripping down your back and your bottom lip is starting to quiver. 

Everyone is chatting amongst themselves now, your mama and the Seresin girls all trying to comfort Harper as she weeps openly. Your daddy and Franny are leaning against the dirt walls, cataloging all they were able to carry from the house. Jake is fiddling with a portable radio, trying to find a news channel. And you’re just sitting there--cold. 

“Bet you didn’t wake up ‘til the sirens went off, mustang,” you tease. Your laugh is a thin one, one that is coated in ice. “Sleepin’ like you’re dead.” 

Jake flushes. He’s glad it’s dark in here. 

“I actually woke up before the sirens! Thank you very much,” Jake lips, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. Was it when your mama knocked your door down?”

Jake doesn’t say anything. You laugh again, covering your shoulders with the ratty, sun-bleached towel. It smells like the Seresin household--like nutmeg, dust, lemon.

“So funny,” Jake mutters, elbowing you. He finally flicks it to the right station and turns the volume up, settling the little radio between everyone. “Here we go.”

“--Strong winds pushing in towards the west. As you can probably hear, the sirens are going off, which means to take cover immediately. There’s been a funnel spotting in North Silverkeep and a touchdown just down yonder, near the spring.”  

The storm rages on overhead, the clouds swirling and swollen with rain. Thunder rolls past and lightning strikes as the funnel clouds search the town of Silverkeep for a flat place to touch down. Everyone can feel the charge in the air--it’s a familiar feeling. This is the second tornado of the summer. 

“Damn,” Jake mutters. “Gonna be stuck here for a while, huh?” 

“Well, I grabbed food,” Fran says hurriedly. “So, we’ll be alright.” 

“Yeah, if we get too hungry then we can just eat the dried oranges we string around the tree every year,” Brandy says, grinning. 

“Don’t forget the popcorn and cranberries,” Callie follows. 

“I oughta thump you girls for teasin’ your mama like that,” your mama says, her lips pursed. “Hush now.” 

By the second hour, you’re leaning all your weight on Jake. He’s shirtless, but somehow he’s warmer than you are tenfold. He’s got his arm around you and your cheek is squished against his chest, your hair still heavy with rain and your eyes growing dry. He can smell the oranges on your skin and you can smell the thick scent of his bedroom on his pajama bottoms. 

Everyone is nodding off now, tucked away in their little corners of the cellar. Your mama has the Seresin girls around her, each of them cuddling into her body. Just as she fell asleep, she smiled: rarely does she ever get to hold girls in her arms. You haven’t tried to cuddle with her since before kindergarten. Fran and your daddy are sitting closest to the stairs, leaning opposite ways and turning the lantern off to preserve the battery. 

“You awake?” Jake whispers. His voice is hardly audible above the rain, even with is lips attached to your ear. 

Through the pitch black of the room, you let your hand wander until it grasps his calf, which you squeeze to signal that yes, you’re awake. 

“You okay?” Jake asks. 

You haven’t said a whole lot since coming to the cellar. He knows that it’s past two in the morning and that you probably haven’t slept much--you always wake up when it storms. He knows that you have an early shift at the ice cream shop later that you’re probably dreading, too. But he feels like the kind of silent you are is indicative of something else. He saw you looking at your mama, all cuddled up with his sister’s, leaning into them and combing their hair with her fingers. 

“Fine,” you whisper. Your nose is cold as you press it into the middle of his chest. “You?”

“I’m always alright when I’m holdin’ you,” he whispers to you. 

Both of you swallow hard. 

You reach out--pinch him. He barely even jolts at the pain now, not when you've been doing that since toddlerhood.  

It’s quiet for a moment. 

Because it’s so dark and because he misses you and because you smell so good and because he knows you’re upset and because it’s storming, he decides to pull you onto his lap. No one will see--and if someone reaches for the lantern, he’ll hear it. And the radio is playing too loud for anyone to hear shuffling anyway. 

Your body is malleable under his palms. You allow him to gather your limbs and pull, heave until you’re settled on his lap. He’s holding you like a baby, the back of your head resting on his bicep and your cheek pressed against his chest. He even covers you both up with one of the blankets his mama brought down, and you hum when the feeling comes back into your toes. 

“Shit,” he whispers. “You’re still freezin’.” 

“Tell me about it,” you mumble back. 

A beat passes. Thunder groans distantly and the wind cries. 

“Why’re you upset?” He whispers finally. 

There’s no use in lying to Jake. Even if you tried to, he’d see right through you. Even in the dark. 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not what people want,” you whisper. 

It’s something you’ve been thinking about for a while. Maybe if you were less brash and more attentive, Ruth would’ve told you what had her in a good mood. Maybe if you were politer and cared about your hair more, your mama would hold you. Maybe if you were quieter and nicer, Hyde would let you sit in the front seat sometimes. Maybe if you were cleaner and prettier like Emmaline Odette, Jake wouldn’t leave. 

Jake swallows. 

“Like how?” 

You bite your lip. 

“I dunno,” you lie. He pinches your hip. You sigh. “Like, maybe people would like me better if I was girlier?” 

Jake wants to laugh. The image of you acting any differently than you do now is about as funny to him as an ape wearing a dress and heels. It simply ain’t natural. 

“Since when do you care about people likin’ you?” He asks. 

“Since all my friends are leavin’,” you tell him. 

His chest grows tight. 

Oh. He’d forgotten about that. He’d forgotten that you’re going to be the only one left here, the rest of them away at college. It’s easy to forget that when this summer feels so infinite, so exciting. He’s so caught up with you and your mouth and your love. 

“I’m only gonna be an hour away,” he says softly. He doesn’t know if he’s saying it for you or for him. 

“That’s a lifetime for us,” you whisper. 

He knows you’re right. 

“That don’t matter to me,” he whispers. It’s true--it doesn’t matter to him. “Lifetimes, hours, minutes, seconds. S’all the same, isn’t it?” 

“No,” you answer quietly. But your heart is swollen with affection now. “You like me how I am, don’t you? You’re gonna miss me when you’re gone, right? And you’ll think of me?” 

If he was braver, he’d say: no. I don’t like you the way you are. I love you the way you are. And I miss you right now, even, and I’m holding you. I think about you every minute of everyday. But he isn’t. So, instead, he just lightly kisses your forehead.  

“Of course,” he answers. He wants to tell you how badly he’s going to ache for you, but he feels like right now isn’t the time. Not when everyone else is sleeping, not when there’s tornado sirens wailing. “You’re gonna hitchhike down there, huh?”

You laugh quietly.

“Yeah,” you answer. “I’m sure that’ll end well for me.” 

He presses his nose into your hair. It’s fluffy now, frizzy. 

“I hope you don’t go changin’ anythin’ about yourself,” Jake says quietly. “Cause then I’ll have to get my shit together, too.” 

“You’ve got your shit together,” you tell him. “College boy.” 

He scoffs. 

“No, I don’t,” he answers. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’.” 

That makes you feel better--you don’t know what you’re doing either. 

“Well,” you whisper. “We can just not know anythin’ together.” 

Until August. 

“You tired?” He asks. 

Your eyes are heavy. 

“No,” you answer, though. “Wide awake.” 

He laughs quietly. 

“What should we talk about then?” 

“Hmmm. The end,” you answer. 

He laughs--unsure if you’re serious. 

“The end of what? The world?” 

“The end of everythin’,” you answer softly. 

He hums. 

“So, like, death?” He asks. You nod. “You’ve got some dark thoughts in that little head,” he tells you.

You’ve been thinking about ends for a while now. Everything ends, really. This summer will end. Your growing has ended, at least in terms of your height. The year will end. Your job will end. It’s all around you, really; all that finishing. 

“What happens when you die?” You ask. 

Jake hums. 

“Well, in the good book it says you go to heaven,” he answers. “You believe that?”

You shake your head. 

“Nah,” you answer. “I don’t think so.” 

Jake nods in agreement. 

“Me either.” 

“So, what do you think then?” You ask. “You die--then what?” 

Jake swallows hard. He doesn’t really have an issue talking about death. It’s just that it feels a bit like tempting fate to be talking about it during the storm of the summer, sitting in a dirt-floor cellar. 

“I think you become worm food,” Jake answers with a shrug. “You die, they put you in the ground, then that’s that. Your body decomposes and stinks and the worms eat you. Fin.” 

You wrinkle your nose. 

“Well, that’s what does happen,” you tell him. “But what happens?” You ask. You let your finger drift to his chest, pointing to his heart. You think that if there are souls, that must be where they rest: just around the heart, above the lungs. 

“So, like, souls?” He asks. You nod. “Nothin’ happens. The lights are on one day and off the next. Poof. No one’s home anymore.”

Maybe if you were someone else--someone like Emmaline, who clings to her religion with those manicured nails, or someone like Hyde that thoroughly believes in souls and reincarnation--you would accuse Jake of being morbid. But you understand him better than anyone else in the world ever has or ever will, probably.

You nod. Okay. That’s what he thinks. It’s okay. 

 “So, like, when your body dies--you just don’t exist anymore?” You ask. 

He nods. 

“That’s about right,” he says. “What do you think happens?” 

You think for a moment, meditating on your answer. 

“I guess when I imagine what happens after, I think about sittin’ up in a tree. Like, a really tall one. You know the one on Locust Street--the one we used to climb? And those grumpy old neighbors would come holler at us to get down?” You ask. 

Jake laughs softly. He remembers. The tree is an ancient thing, one that predates every single house in Silverkeep. When you two were younger, it felt like the tallest thing in the world. Taller than a skyscraper. Taller than the sky. 

“Uh huh,” he answers. He’s twirling your hair around his finger now, blinking at the dark. “I remember.” 

“Well, I like to think it’s like that kinda. Like, you die, right? And then you go up in the tree and sit on the highest branch,” you say. You’re imagining it now, your feet dangling above the crabgrass and the buckeyes. “You can feel the sun on your face and you can hear the music playing from the truck down the street. You can see everyone, too, but you can’t get down. And they can’t get up.” 

Jake’s fingers are numb. 

He’s gone to church every single Sunday since the day he was born, but that feels like the most religious thing he’s ever heard in his life. That is the kind of idea he can subscribe to. 

“You ever considered preachin’?” Jake whispers. He holds your cheek, feel that smile growing on your lips. “Cause I’d be in your congregation.” 

“Well, you don’t believe in what I do,” you answer. “So, that wouldn’t work.” 

“I could believe it,” he tells you. “You could make me believe just about anythin’.” 

Another beat passes. Thunder shakes the cellar. 

“Wouldn’t it be lonesome? Sittin’ up there by yourself? Watchin’ everyone else on the ground?” 

“Yeah,” Jake agrees. “It would.” 

He sniffles, sinks his nose into your hair and pulls you closer to him.

“Filly?” He whispers. 

“Yeah?” 

He swallows hard. You tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“I don’t wanna sit in a tree and watch you down below.” 

He thinks about it: hearing your laugh echo up the branches, watching you swell with life, seeing you stretch into a woman, smelling those oranges so distantly. It makes him sick to his stomach to think about. 

“Yeah, me either,” you tell him.

“You can’t die before me,” Jake tells you. He’s being serious. “I won’t have it, Filly.”  

“We can just die on the same day.”

That seems to lull the both of you into a content state. Okay. You will die on the same day and sit in a tree and feel the sun on your cheeks and watch your feet dangle above the world of the living forever. And it will be okay. 

You find his cheeks in the darkness and hold them in your palms, raising your face to his. It’s so dark that you can’t even see his silhouette. Your daddy is snoring. The radio is crackling. The sirens are still calling. You press your nose against Jake’s and hold yourself there as his grip tightens around your body. 

“I don’t ever wanna be without you,” Jake whispers. He’s choked up just thinking about it, just thinking about leaving. Because as endless as this summer feels, it’s already almost July. “I don’t think I’ll survive.” 

“We’ll be alright,” you tell him, but your voice is quivering. “We’ve survived worse.”

Jake kisses you--closes that little gap between your mouths. It’s not about sex and it’s not about feeling anything other than close to each other. It’s you, it’s him, it’s your lips, his lips, your sleeping families, a tornado, and a scratchy blanket. The kiss is soft and quiet, one that just lingers and keeps on lingering. You don’t let go of his cheeks and he doesn’t loosen his grip on you. 

“You’re my best friend,” Jake tells you. 

“I better be,” you whisper back. “‘Cause you’re mine, too.” 

Later that evening, when the storm clouds have thinned and the funnels have dissipated and the storm damage has been assessed, you lie in Jake’s bed. You’re both naked, chests flushed and heaving, and your hair is matted to your neck with sweat. 

“Jesus,” Jake whispers, his vision still spotted with technicolor from the orgasm he just had when he was still seated in your mouth. “We’re gettin’ good at that.” 

You smile, biting your lip. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “Real good.” 

It’s quiet for a few minutes. The house is empty--which doesn’t happen often. Fran picked up a night shift. Harper is at Curtis’. Callie is away at their meemaw and pappy’s house for the weekend. Brandy is with a friend. So it is just you and Jake. And boy, did you two take advantage of the empty house. 

“I like it when you use your tongue on me,” you tell him. You squeeze your thighs together at the very mention of it. “S’real good. Too good, even.” 

Jake’s chest swells with pride. He pulls you close to him, presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Yeah?” He asks. “Good. I like doin’ it.” 

Your belly is warm at the thought. 

You’re just about to say something else, just about to tell him about your day at the ice cream shop and to ask him about his day off from the farm, when the phone rings down the hall. 

“I got it,” Jake says, heaving himself up. 

He walks out of his room naked, leaves you in his bed. 

He’s humming the whole way to the phone, not bothering to turn any lights on. He’s in a good mood--how could he not be after the last few hours he’s had? A day off and an empty house with you. He doesn’t think it gets much better than that. 

“Howdy!” Jake says gleefully, pushing the home phone against his cheek. “You’ve got Jake.” 

“Jake,” Emmaline says. She sounds like she’s been crying--her voice nasally and thick with upset. “It’s Emma.” 

At the very sound of her voice, his tongue grows thick with anger. If anyone can dissipate a mood, it’s Emmaline Odette. He’s thinking about those nasty things they said to each other, how badly he wanted to shake her silly. 

“What?” He asks. 

She sighs, sniffling. 

“I’m late,” she says. She’s speaking quietly so her mama won’t hear from the kitchen. “Jake, I’m late.”

“For what?” Jake asks. “What’s this gotta do with me?” 

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Jake, my period is late. A month late.”  

✯ 𝐚/𝐧: the plot thickens.......

✯ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

✯ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

✯ 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✯ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

@violetta-ximena

@hazyretina

@illicithallways

@callsign-cacti

@chicomonks

@royalpurplehuskies

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@bradshawbabe

@lt-spork

@maddievevo

@linkpk88

@eli2447

@cosmic-psychickitty

@shanimallina87

@flrboyd

@greatszu

✯ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝/𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬, 𝐃𝐌 𝐦𝐞!

#hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman seresin #hangman angst #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman au #hangman fluff #hangman series #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #top gun maverick hangman #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #jake x filly #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin angst #jake seresin series #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin smut #rumours universe

[markhoffmansleftbazonga]

ALRIGHT Y’ALL, BUCKLE IN FOR A STONED, SLEEP-DEPRIVED, AUTISM-FUELED HOFFSTRAHM SONG ANALYSIS (HEADPHONES RECOMMENDED)

Alright I’ll stop yelling now lol

The song is called “Cool About It” by boygenius—the lyrics of which, in the context of Hoffstrahm, would definitely fit within Strahm’s POV in my opinion. I’m just gonna go verse by verse and kinda explain the metaphors I’m seeing here, some of which are heavily influenced by my headcanons (crucify me idc). Anyway

—

Met you at the dive bar to go shoot some pool

And make fun of the cowboys with the neck tattoos

Ask you easy questions about work and school

I’m trying to be cool about it

Feelin’ like an absolute fool about it

Wishin’ you were kind enough to be crueler about it

Tellin’ myself I can always do without it

Knowin’ that it probably isn’t true

—

In an abstract sense, I feel that these two verses represent their initial animosity towards each other—Strahm did NOT like that man, lol. But Hoffman hadn’t given him that much reason to suspect him yet; mans was just having a 🏳️‍🌈 ✨ repressed homosexual moment ✨🏳️‍🌈

Strahm just gets bad vibes from this mf, and from the first verse, I can just imagine them at work having to make small talk while Strahm is just. Fucking infuriated by this freak himbo murderer, all the fucking time, but also kinda wants to fuck him. In the second half, “wishin’ you were kind enough to be crueler about it” = 1. wishing Hoffman wasn’t so charming and charismatic so he could openly hate on him, and 2. wishing he didn’t want to fuck him lol

Moving on

—

I can prepare for absolution if you’d only ask

So I take some offense when you say “no regrets”

I remember it’s impossible to pass your test

But I’m tryin’ to forget about it

Feelin’ like I’m breaking a sweat about it

Wishin’ you would kindly get out of my head about it

Tellin’ myself one day I’ll forget about it

Knowin’ that it probably isn’t true

—

I feel that the third verse represents their dynamic after the events of Saw III and IV and after Strahm survives the trap that was supposed to fucking execute him. Between that and Perez’s last words being “Detective Hoffman,” mans is now officially SUS of his toxic man crush. “So I take some offense when you say “no regrets” - Hoffman pissing Strahm the fuck off by acting cold and oblivious after likely murdering Perez: someone he deeply cared for. “I remember it’s impossible to pass your test” - Folks…HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I think that one’s probably self-explanatory, lol, it’s just 🤌🏻

Moving onto the fourth verse…I mean, damn y’all, Strahm is still down bad for this man 😟 not much else to say here. He hates him for being a freakass murderer, he hates that he’s down bad for him, and all the while he’s trying to track him down and make him suffer for what he’s done. Folks…what a mess.

—

Once, I took your medication to know what it’s like

And now I have to act like I can’t read your mind

I ask you how you’re doing, and I let you lie

But we don’t have to talk about it

I can walk you home and practice method acting

I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning

Tellin’ you it’s nice to see how good you’re doing

Even though you know it isn’t true

—

I REALLY feel like these last two verses connect the two through their shared grief—and what that means for Strahm’s morality. “Once, I took your medication to know what it’s like / And now I have to act like I can’t read your mind” = Strahm’s’s grief for Perez and his ineffable fury towards Hoffman that he has to contain for the sake of bullshit professionalism / Strahm’s realization that that was perhaps exactly what Hoffman felt towards Seth Baxter after he killed Angelina. And then the rest of it is just Strahm kinda having a crisis thinking maybe he and Hoffman aren’t so different and still. Wanting. TO FUCK HIM.

In this essay I will

#saw #saw brainrot #sawposting #hoffstrahm #coffinshipping #peter strahm #mark hoffman #lindsey perez #boygenius #song analysis #i am so fucking normal

[naturalbrutality]

mike-mun;

  I was feelin’ it tonight folks. Thanks for hangin’ in there. Please comment ✴BOOM✴ if i missed your reply; I am still figuring out how to weave through this this dash and find them. Have mercy i’m human. ;0; If we planned a thread it’s currently in my drafts being finished so no worries!              And feel free to like if you’ want abit of the chaos boy in your life.  liking this you contractually agree to deal with my crack/ship/bullshit from here on

#x muntalk #x update #x your patience is appreciated ;-; #x askbox always open

[savedpeople]

2. What do you think is the worst possible way to die? 4. If you were reborn as someone/something new, who or what would you want to be? 12. Name one person you’d protect even if it meant sacrificing yourself.

Ask My Muse About Death | Not Accepting | @wexarethewalkingxdead

The first thing his mind jumps to is immediately: cancer. The monster he watched take his wife all those years ago, that withered away the strongest woman he's ever known.

That's not what he answers with, though, despite it being near the top of the list.

"If you'd asked me this before the dead started coming back to life, I probably would have said something like drowning, or burning alive. Now don't get me wrong, those are some gnarly-ass ways to go. But watching people get torn limb from limb, gettin' pieces bitten out of 'em while they're still conscious and feeling it? That is some horrific shit I hope I never have to experience."

But even that, still, isn't his answer. What is, is much more personal.

"... But that still ain't as bad as feelin' yourself waste away. Getting bit, eaten? Looks painful as all hell, but at least you're passing out before long. But being forced to sit and watch yourself slowly fade away, and there isn't shit you can do about it because they got you shut away from everyone and everything? That... that is misery."

He could go into so, so much more detail, but he's in no rush to relive those times in his cell. He already does in his dreams, his nightmares; the darkest moments of his life when he truly, honestly believed he would die. When some days, he wanted to.

"... Don't think I'd want to be reborn as anything else," he continues, switching gears. "Could ask to come back as someone who's not an asshole, I'm sure there's a lot of folks that'd like that. But I wouldn't really be me anymore if I was, right?" He's long since embraced that part of himself. "I don't really believe in all that reincarnation shit anyway."

Lucille, for most of Negan's life, was the only person he could ever imagine giving up his life for. He would've done anything for her. After she died, after the world fell, he didn't have it in him to care about protecting anyone else, not to the extent of sacrificing himself for them. It was all about survival-- and his survival, first and foremost.

At least, until recently.

"Judith," he answers honestly. A fond smile follows. "I'd sacrifice my life for that kid in a heartbeat. She's something special." An unexpected ray of light in his life-- her and Lydia. And a part of him feels he owes it to Rick; that after everything that's happened, the least he could do in his memory is protect the little girl he left behind.

#wexarethewalkingxdead #✘ || First one's free ( asks ) #✘ || A new beginning ( canon verse 2 ) #cancer mention

[uhnomahlee]

in their eyes

synopsis - will they or won't they? includes - agender!hange, black plus-size agender original character, friends to potential lovers, essence of sub!hange, gay besties flirting, unspoken admiration, etc. {mdni/f}

a/n - dis not my first fic ever but for this fandom yeahhh i got my black plussize agender readers. i can't use [y/n] bc my brain is demolished and literally does not insert any name so ill just make up ocs. but yall should know i had to make a background for these darker skinned folk. ive established their history (not in this story...not yet) so there's not just a random nigga in the walls. anyways enjoy :3

-

“Goodnight Hawa,” Amahle gave a warm smile as they began to leave the new recruit’s side. The rest of the dorm was beginning to quiet down as fatigue set in and lights out crept closer. Chatter slipped into sporadic murmurs.

The wide-eyed individual, racked with anxiousness and already attaching theirself to the presence of the older soldier, hesitated to reach out a hand to stop them. “Um…”

Amahle looked back at Hawa, brow-bone lifting in silent encouragement to speak.

“Thank you,” they muttered, twiddling their thumbs. “I know this is an inconvenience--constantly checking up on me and whatnot. But you are…the closest resemblance of any family or friends I had before moving into the walls. I apologize for making you worry.” Hawa kept their gaze elsewhere as they spoke, mahogany skin warming.

Their breathing hitched, feeling a hand on their shoulder, mustering up the courage to look up and meet Amahle’s eyes. Tears threatened to spill in response to the unexpected statement, the older individual’s grip tightening. Their chest constricted as they kept a breath that would be sure to lead to a full session of wailing.

“Please,” Amahle began, voice breaking, “do not apologize. My care and kindness are not forced by anything you do. We are the embodiment of the clans we left behind. Our link is inevitable. I will try my best to protect you and return you home to see your family again."

Now the tears forming in Hawa's eyes did not resist slipping down their round cheeks. “I…I will also protect you. Your family will see you again too.”

Embracing Hawa tight, Amahle’s lips quivered as they cried quietly into their shoulder. They stayed a couple of minutes after to soothe Hawa, hoping to lift whatever burden they were harboring before it was officially lights out. Moving the chair back near the wall, Amahle prepared to leave, lifting their lantern from the nightstand. They whispered goodnight back to the recruits, shushing them while they tried to get out of the room without any person in command catching them again…for the eighth time this month. They shut the door, untwisting the doorknob so the bolt would be slid into place without a peep.

Amahle’s muscles grew rigid as soon as they saw the figure standing near them in their peripheral.

“Commander,” they greeted, skin heating as they faced Erwin. “I was…someone reported a…the kids were fighting again?”

“Do you even believe yourself?” A thick blond brow quirked along with the question.

Slumping their shoulders, Amahle knew they were caught from the get-go. “Some recruits were feelin’ uneasy. I've seen the way they train when they don't get a good night’s rest. Was just makin’ sure everything was alright.” They readied theirself for the disciplining that could or could not be worse than Levi’s.

“There has never been a soldier that took upon the caretaker role that is essential in these dorms. They would think it's a burden to handle the stress of our mission along with the emotional turmoil of young individuals. You are different. Your presence now is one of the aspects that will keep these kids alive in the long run.” Erwin placed a hand on Amahle’s shoulder for a moment before returning his arm to his side. “Before you turn in, I noticed Hange’s light still on and that can only mean they have not taken a single break since you last checked on them.”

“I was just on my way,” they replied, choked up.

“Are you alright?” Erwin asked, eyes widening at the contorted look on their face.

“Yeah,” Amahle cleared their throat. “Just been one hell of a night.”

Erwin nodded in understanding. “Okay then. You should get going. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Commander.” Amahle departed with a small wave. Wiping underneath their lash line, they tried to compose theirself as they made their way to Hange’s quarters. If they saw Amahle in this state there wouldn't be a reason to attempt to put them to bed.

Their friendship was a spectacle behind the walls. The moment Amahle was seen entering the walls in an attempt to join the Survey Corps, Hange over-enthusiastically volunteered to be a guide. When the higher-ups asked about their background, Hange’s stare earned them multiple lectures in respecting Amahle’s space. But they couldn't help it. There was a certain aroma they had never smelled before that wafted off of them, putting the soldier into a trance. They recognized the scent from a flower that was found on an expedition they led far into the forest. Then their focus would be brought to the short black kinky hair, spirals of close-knit coils shaped around Amahle’s head.

Hange had speculated before there was a mystical purpose to Amahle’s arrival and very being. There was a moment during dawn as the sun began its ascent over the mountains in the distance, rays of light stretching across the camp. Just waking up to finish a report, Hange decided to stretch their rigid body by going on a walk outside. As they were pulling their hair back up into a ponytail, proofreading the image of the report in their head, scuffling came from in between the dormitory. They quieted their steps, creeping up towards the sound. There they saw Amahle sitting with a journal in front of them, pencil tapping their inner thigh as they tilted their head from side to side. Before Hange could realize it, they were walking towards them, heart pounding hard against their chest.

Amahle had straightened up, the crunch of dirt under boots interrupting their journaling time. They turned around to see who it was, a small smile making a way onto their lips before they stood up. They had not noticed their heartbeat speeding up or the warmth that crawled across their cheeks as Hange approached them.

From a distance, Hange admired the thickness of their body, eyes wandering over their physique before meeting Amahle’s gaze. They waved, mouth parting to speak, however oblivious to their building anxiousness, everything was dry. Clearing their throat loudly, the embarrassment had begun to hound Hange.

“Good morning, Hange,” Amahle had greeted, clutching their journal and pencil in one hand. They shifted their stance to follow Hange’s movement, a sliver of light falling upon their face.

When Hange had regathered theirself, they greeted back, “Good morning, Amahle.” They marveled at Amahle’s smooth umber skin glimmering both in the shadow and light. Gulping they let out an airy chuckle, rubbing the nape of their neck in an attempt to distract theirself from the trance they were about to enter with joy. “You’re up early.“

“Yup. The air is so crisp at this time and this sunrise is beautiful.” Amahle looked to the mountains, a longing stare into the distance.

“Ah,” was all Hange could say, words swept from their mind as they studied Amahle’s features. “Would you like to walk with me?” Hange offered as a friendly gesture knowing well they preferred to be alone in the morning especially after finishing reports.

“I would like that.”

The love accumulated in their time knowing each other made their friendship dip into the pools other than platonic. There were the touches that lingered a bit longer, elusively possessive. Proximity invasions that they would pass off as teasing, ignoring the glances to each other’s lips. Multiple sparring sessions that ended with one sitting on one another, heavy pants exchanged with the winner on top skimming their fingertips down the torso of the loser while they gripped their thighs.

Nearing a year and a half of intimacy, neither was making a move anytime soon, finding happiness in the complacency of their relationship. To have someone around and be there for each other like the two did filled something in their being that was critical for their survival. A necessity.

Trudging down the hall to Hange’s door, Amahle didn’t bother knocking as they entered, letting out a sigh as they saw Hange hunched over their desk, leg bouncing as they tried to focus on the last part of an equation. They kept quiet as they crept up behind their best friend, peering over their shoulder to take a look at the mess of papers spread out on the desk. Their eyes darted over each page, double-checking their work because they knew it should never take this long to finish.

Plucking the pencil from Hange’s hand, Amahle erased their mistakes and quickly wrote in the correct numbers. They had leaned over the chair, scent sending tingles down their back . Following their corrections, Hange’s heart swelled with appreciation. Their brain was becoming sore from the immense focus they had on these pages for hours and now it felt like the gnawing had subsided.

Finishing off the last page, Amahle dropped the pencil, mouth close to Hange’s ear. “Now get your ass in bed.”

“You’re so scary when you talk like that. I wasn’t even going to argue.” Hange succumbed to the demand, body squirming in the seat. They had a hate-love connection with the way Amahle’s tone would switch up. It was like they were getting snatched up by the back of their shirt and chastised—partly true. "And also, thanks for the help."

There had been a moment where they had a couple of drinks in the tavern, the numbness of alcohol taking over with a subtle chaos. Hange was doing a bit too much asking for another cup of beer, leaning their body across the bar, half-singing their unruly request. Their comrades were trying their best to keep them at bay, searching for the individual who was always beside them and able to subdue them with a single finger. Walking out of the bathroom, Amahle’s gaze immediately fell on Hange with their ass poking out from violating the bar while Moblit tried to calm them down. Entirely too drunk for the scenario, Amahle marched up to Hange, people moving out of their way when they heard and saw them coming. They wrapped an arm around Hange’s torso, taking the cup from their hand and setting it down at the bar.

“They’re in trouble,” Ymir snickered, scooting their chair closer so they could be in earshot of the upcoming conversation before Mikasa pulled them back with one hand.

As Amahle set Hange down, they gripped the front of their shirt steadying their sway. “Hange, look at me.”

“Yesss?” Hange slurred. “Amaaaa you look pretty in this light too?” They groaned, smacking their forehead. “Gosh…”

Drunk ears blocked out the sentence. “You need to keep your ass off the bar. The workers don’t get paid entirely enough to deal with you and you keep breaking everything,” they said in a low voice, deep tone stroking Hange’s senses like a melody.

Hange nodded, sputtering out a laugh. “Sawry. I-I just feel really happy.” They paused to burp. “And you”—their hands skimmed Amahle’s hips—“are the reason for it all.”

Amahle had blinked, stunned. They fought the sensation in the pit of their stomach as Hange began caressing their waist, planting their palms around it and massaging the pudgy area.

“Um. Okay then. J-just don’t go overboard again. 'Cuz I can't stop the whole bar from wanting to fight you. Attempt yes.” Their grip loosened, irritation faltering.

“Mhm. Whatever you say, Ama. I can do whatever you want,” Hange sang, fingers crawling under their shirt.

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Amahle blurted, escaping back into the corridor.

Hange pursed their lips, scouring the area. Landing on the group of girls from the team trying to make themselves disappear from a very drunk Hange’s eagle eye. With wide arms, they approached the table, jumping into unprepared bodies.

Standing up from the desk, Hange pulled off their tank top tossing the fabric onto bed near where Amahle sat, watching. Goosebumps rose across their skin as they undressed, the heat of their comrade’s stare prominent. They bite the inside of their lip, unbuttoning their pants slowly.

“Just hurry and take it all off. You need to get to bed,” Amahle said, crossing their legs to try and ease the tension in their pelvis. Their eyes lingered on their scarred torso, body humming in response.

There was that tone again, making the pants come off immediately. After undoing their chest binding, they rolled their shoulders back, stretching out their body as they hopped into bed. Amahle stood by their side, approving how quick they got into bed.

“Good job, Hange. Feels nice huh?”

Unknowingly awaiting the small praise, Hange’s cheeks reddened while they nodded. “It does.”

“I’ll leave you to get some rest, Hange.” Amahle smiled, pulling the blanket up their torso a bit more, bending down as they tucked them in. “Have pleasant dreams.”

When their lips met Hange’s forehead, Amahle cherished the contact they had a routine of doing, hand on theirs, thumb stroking their skin. Pulling away, their nose skimmed Hange’s, heart ready to break from its cage. They both froze, fingers intertwined, the skin of their lips brushed against each other.

“I,” Amahle croaked, “I’m gonna let you get some rest. I know that brain of yours needs a break.” They used the excuse to tear away from Hange, picking up the lantern from the ground.

“R-right. You need rest too. Don't let me distract you.”

Amahle wanted to be distracted so bad. The small ache in the pit of their stomach was nearly unbearable. Their knees resembled jelly, almost giving out while they retreated.

For the sake of their friendship, Amahle only glanced at their hardened nipples for a second, mustering up the strength to say a simple, “Goodnight, Hange.”

Will you stay, the thought never processed into verbal communication, dying off as Amahle waved goodbye.

“Goodnight, Amahle.”

#void loves da gays #black gn reader #black chubby reader #black reader #black trans reader #hange zoe #hange x reader #hange x black reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk hange #snk #aot #aot x reader #chubby reader #mikasa ackerman #ymir aot #gay reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager #armin arlert #levi ackerman #yelena aot #jean kirschtien #anime x black!reader #attack on titan nonbinary #x reader #gender neutral reader #aot smut #snk smut

[my-mt-heart]

I'm not sure where the ask went (my inbox is still cluttered with *strong* feelings about Vive La France), but I know someone requested a divorced Caryl minisode, so at last, I am fulfilling my obligation. Sorry for the wait, and sorry for cheating a little bit. This is another revised version of something I did before, but I thought it fit the prompt well enough.

Family Reunion

The Dixon brothers take careful mental notes of the campsite while Dale gives them the official tour.

Dale: We’re lucky to take in folks who know how to hunt. Canned goods will only get us so far.

Merle: Oh, I’m feelin’ pretty lucky myself for bein’ here. How ‘bout you lil’ brother? 

He gives Daryl a mischievous look that escapes Dale’s notice. Daryl silently warns his brother to shut his trap. 

Dale: Well, just up here is where we do our laundry.

They approach a woman hanging clothes on a line. Daryl stops short, taking her in. The color drains from his face.

Dale: This is—

Daryl: Carol?

Carol looks up, eyes wide. The shirt in her hands falls to the ground.

Dale: You know each other?

Merle: I’ll be goddamned. Mouse? That really you? Holy hell, woman, what’s it been? Gotta be somethin’ like—

Carol: A long time.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. It’s like she’s gone into shock and everything around her ceases to exist except for the ghost of her past. 

Ed: Carol! That better not be my shirt on the ground you clumsy—

He regards the two strangers with contempt.

Ed: Who the hell are you?

Merle: Think Daryl here’s wonderin’ the same about you.

He claps Daryl on the shoulder, but like Carol, the younger Dixon brother has withdrawn into himself. Until…

Sophia: Mom?

Daryl acts like a timid child when the little girl emerges from her tent. She mirrors him, recoiling in terror and shaking like a leaf. Merle on the other hand looks delighted, putting the pieces together for himself. 

Merle: Well now, who’s this darlin’ angel? Don’t tell me. Baby mouse?

Carol: This is my–our daughter, Sophia. 

The “our” is clearly meant to include Ed. Daryl’s body language shifts drastically, a type of rage taking over him that he can’t explain. 

Merle: And just how old are you, Sophia?

Sophia looks at her mom. Carol hesitates.

Carol: She's twelve…

Merle: Mhmm. Sounds about right. ‘Course my math’s never been too good. That sound right to you, lil’ brother?

The tension thickens. Dale looks uncomfortable. Ed narrows his eyes, feeling left out of something. He rounds on Sophia. 

Ed: Go on, girl, don’t you see your parents talking?

Carol: Ed, please.

But Sophia knows better, retreating back to the tent. Merle laughs, the only one to see the humor in any of this. 

Merle: Shit. What’d I tell you, man? This really is our lucky day.

Once again, Daryl and Carol only have eyes for each other, their surroundings non-existent.

#caryl #caryl scene #darylneedscarol

[thelastspeecher]

Yesterday I posted a v cute fluffy ficlet in the Firefighter AU. Unfortunately, today's Firefighter AU ficlet is not fluffy. In fact, I'd classify it as angsty. Because we're going back in time to the accident that scarred Angie in this AU.

——————————————————————————————

              Mearl watched his youngest child sleep.  Banjey’s beautiful face was partially covered by a massive bandage.  He knew she was in unspeakable pain.  But she still slept as peacefully as she had when she was a baby.  A gentle hand rested on his shoulder.  He looked up.  It was his wife, Sally.  Banjey was the spitting image of her.

              Or at least, she used to be.  No, Mearl, don’t think like that.

              “We need to call home,” Sally said quietly.  Mearl nodded.  He got up from the chair by Banjey’s bedside.  Sally took the seat he had vacated.  Mearl exited the hospital room.  Voices sounded over the intercom.  The smell of antiseptic filled the air.

              Last time I was here, it was ‘cause Banjey was bein’ born.  Now?  Mearl shook his head, trying to dislodge the negative thoughts.  He walked over to the nearby payphone, put in a few coins, and dialed the number for home.  The phone picked up immediately.

              “McGucket household, Violynn speakin’,” came the voice of his oldest child.  Mearl forced a smile, hoping it might somehow carry into his voice.

              “Violynn, it’s Pa.”

              “Pa!  Is- is Banjey-”

              “She’ll be fine.”

              “Really?”  Violynn sounded somewhere between relieved and doubtful.  “Pa, she was- the- the screamin’-”

              “She had a little bit of surgery on her eye ‘n the worst of the burns.”

              “Her eye?” Violynn whispered.

              “Don’t tell yer siblin’s that.”

              “I won’t.”

              “She’ll have some scars ‘n might have some trouble seein’ or hearin’, but she’s pullin’ through like the stubborn girl she is.”

              “Good.  I’ll let everyone know.”

              “How’s Harper?” Mearl asked softly.  Harper had set off the firework that hit Banjey.  From the moment the firework went off to when Sally and Mearl had managed to get Banjey in the truck to go to the clinic, Harper was deeply distraught over what he had done.

              It was just a mistake.  A mistake that didn’t need to have such a horrible consequence.  For the first time, one of their children had been so injured the local clinic couldn’t treat them.  Upon arriving at the clinic, they were immediately sent to the closest hospital via ambulance.

              “He’ll be better with this news,” Violynn said carefully.

              “Violynn Luella McGucket.  Ya can’t beat ‘round the bush right now.  Be straight with me.”

              “He hasn’t stopped cryin’.”

              “Shoot.”  Mearl sighed.  “Hopefully he’ll finally give himself a bit of a break.”

              “It is his fault.”

              “The horrible way he’s feelin’ right now is punishment enough fer failin’ to inform everyone he’d lit the next firework.  Remember what I taught all of y’all, sweet pea.”

              “Extend grace to everyone, even if ya think they don’t deserve it.”

              “Exactly.”

              “Harper does feel really bad…”  Violynn paused.  “Pa, a couple neighbors came by.”

              Consarnit.

              “They heard the firework and they heard Banjey- they heard Banjey-”

              “No need to finish the sentence, dear.  I know what yer gettin’ at.  What did ya tell the neighbors?”

              “That it was a private fam’ly matter and you ‘n Ma would inform folks of what was happenin’ when ya returned.”

              “Excellent.  That’s exactly right.”  Mearl rubbed his face.  “We can’t leave yer sister completely alone, so y’all won’t be gettin’ both of us back until she’s out of the hospital.  And since we both want to stay overnight, y’all will be on yer own until tomorrow mornin’.  Can ya manage?”

              “Yes,” Violynn said firmly.  “Basstian and I can wrangle Viola ‘n Lute.”

              “Please keep an eye on Harper, too.  Poor thing.”

              “Yep.  Do ya know when Banjey will be back?”

              “No.  Not yet.  She ain’t woke up from after the surgery, and the doctors won’t have an idea of when she can come home until after they see how she’s feelin’ post-op.”

              “Okay.”

              “I best go back to yer sister’s room now.  She’ll wake up any moment.”

              “Call us again after she does, please.  I’m- we’re all awful worried.”

              “I know, sweet pea.  I know,” Mearl said quietly.

              “Love ya.”

              “Love ya, too.”  Mearl hung up the phone.  He slumped against the wall, tears finally spilling from his eyes onto his cheeks.

              Today was just s’pposed to be another happy Fourth of July.  It weren’t s’pposed to turn into this.  My poor baby girl.  My lil Banjey…

              “Mearl!”  Mearl looked up.  Sally was sticking her head out of Banjey’s hospital room.  “She’s up.”  Mearl straightened.  He hurriedly scrubbed the tears off his face.

              No tears in front of poor lil Banjey.  She don’t need any reasons to feel worse ‘n she already does.  He went into Banjey’s room.  Banjey was sitting up in her bed, somehow looking even smaller than usual.  Mearl walked over to her bedside.  He crouched down.

              “Sweetheart…” he started.  Banjey immediately flung her arms around him, sobbing.  Mearl returned the embrace.  He squeezed her as tightly as he dared.  “I’m here, honey.  I’m here.”

-----

              The pickup truck came to a stop in the gravel driveway.  Mearl looked at Banjey in the rearview mirror.  The worst of her burns were still bandaged and she had to wear an eyepatch to make sure the eye that had been in the line of fire recovered properly.  She had also been abnormally quiet since waking up after her surgery, a trend that seemed to be continuing.  But there was excitement in her visible eye.  Clearly, she was happy to be home.

              “I’ll go let the others know we’re back,” Mearl said to Sally.  Sally nodded.  Mearl got out of the truck and went up to the house.  While he had spent the week Banjey was hospitalized at home, he’d gone back to the hospital to be there when she was discharged.

              I wish I could’ve been there the whole time.  But I couldn’t leave the kids on their own fer that long, and Sally had it covered.  Mearl opened the front door.  Promptly, the family dog, Cash, came charging forward.  Mearl grabbed Cash by his collar.

              “Kids!” he shouted.  Footsteps sounded.  Doors opened and closed.  Very quickly, the rest of Mearl’s children were standing before him obediently.  “Basstian, take Cash.  I don’t want him jumpin’ on Banjey.”  Basstian, already the tallest of the children at fifteen, took Cash from Mearl.  “Banjey’s back.  All of y’all need to be on yer best behavior.  Don’t point or laugh or draw much attention.  She’s feelin’ very self-conscious.”  The kids nodded.  “And…try to speak up when ya talk to her.”

              “Why?” asked ten-year-old Lute.  Mearl sighed.

              “Banjey’s got hearin’ loss in one of her ears.”  Harper, who had been nervously standing by his older sister with his hands behind his back, paled.  “Not complete.  She can still hear some out of it, but she’s havin’ issues adjustin’.”

              “Will she need a hearin’ aid?” asked eleven-year-old Viola.

              “Yes.  But it’s dif’cult to find good, affordable hearin’ aids fer folks as lil as yer sister,” Mearl said.  Harper paled further.  “We’ll keep lookin’, but fer now, she’ll have to do without.  That means y’all need to accommodate fer her, okay?”

              “Of course, Pa!” Harper blurted out.  He winced.  “Should- should I not be here?” he asked weakly.  Mearl shook his head.

              “Banjey ain’t angry at you, son.  She ain’t angry at anyone.  She just wants to sleep in her own bed.  When she comes walkin’ through the door, try to keep things subdued, okay?  She don’t need more excitement.”  As if on cue, the door opened behind Mearl.  He partially turned to smile at his wife and youngest child.

              Banjey clung for dear life to the stuffed animal rabbit a kind nurse had given her in the hospital.  Her visible eye darted around, taking in everything.  Violynn stepped forward.  She crouched in front of her younger sister.

              “Howdy, Banjey,” Violynn said sweetly.  Banjey frowned.  She turned her head so that her left ear, which hadn’t suffered any hearing loss from the accident, faced Violynn.  Violynn paused, unsure of what to do.  Mearl nodded at her.  Violynn cleared her throat.  “We’re so happy to have ya back,” Violynn said, this time speaking louder.  Banjey mumbled something too quietly to make out.  “I like yer haircut!”  The firework had come into contact with Banjey’s lovely long caramel-colored hair, damaging it.  Thankfully, there was a hair stylist that came to the hospital to give haircuts to children for free, so Banjey’s cute new bob hadn’t cost a dime.

              Unlike everything else in the hospital…

              “Thanks,” Banjey said, still quiet, but now audible.  Violynn’s smile broadened.  Lute surged forward.  Mearl tensed, ready to grab his hyperactive youngest son if he overstepped his bounds.

              “You’ve got an eyepatch?” Lute gasped.  Banjey nodded.

              “It’s fer my eye,” she said, a bit more confidently now.  “My eye ‘ll be fine, but the doctor wants to make sure it heals right.”  Banjey looked at Sally and Mearl.  “Right?”

              “That’s exactly right, sweetling,” Sally cooed.  Lute crossed his arms.

              “No fair!  I want an eyepatch!  I want to be a pirate!” he said.  Banjey giggled, the first time she had laughed since the accident.

              “I ain’t a pirate,” she said.  “But when I’m done with the eyepatch, I can let ya have it.”

              “Awesome!” Lute gushed.  “I’m gonna be a pirate for Halloween!”  Banjey giggled again.  Harper cleared his throat and stepped forward.  Violynn and Lute moved to the side, allowing Harper to crouch in front of Banjey.

              “I’m- I’m sorry, Banjey,” Harper croaked.  Mearl’s heart broke.  All week, Harper had been barely able fall asleep at night, he was so wracked with guilt.  It didn’t help that word had spread around town about the accident, resulting in multiple townsfolk avoiding him or giving him dirty looks.

              Thank goodness he’ll be startin’ college in the fall and can go somewhere folks won’t know any of what happened.

              “I, uh, I know yer fav’rite bear got torn by Cash, so’s I figured I’d give ya somethin’ to replace it a bit,” Harper continued awkwardly.  He held out his hands, revealing what he had been hiding behind his back: a stuffed animal green snake wearing a knight’s helmet.  “It ain’t as good as the bunny you’ve got there, but I wanted to do somethin’ to make yer first night back better.”  Banjey set down her bunny and reached for the snake.

              “Did ya make it?” she asked softly.  Harper nodded. 

              “SI understand if you’d prefer somethin’ of higher quality.”  Banjey took the snake from Harper.  She held it close.  Her visible eye teared up.

              “I- I love it.”  Harper smiled weakly.  Banjey flung her arms around Harper’s neck.  Harper returned the embrace, squeezing his little sister tightly.  “And I love you, Harper.”

              “I love ya, too, Banjey,” Harper said in a choked-up voice.  Sally put a hand on Banjey’s shoulder.

              “Banjey, let’s get ya settled back in, okay?  And a quick nap, too.”

              “Mmkay,” Banjey mumbled.  She picked up her bunny.  Holding both stuffed animals, she followed Sally further into the house, towards her bedroom.  Harper stood up.

              “School starts soon,” Basstian said.  Mearl and his siblings looked at him, startled by the apparent non-sequitur.  “What’s Banjey goin’ to do?  If she can’t hear well…”

              “We’re plannin’ on homeschoolin’ her this first year,” Mearl said.  “Fer one thing, we can handle her hearin’ loss better ‘n the school can.  At least until we get her a hearin’ aid.  Fer another, we don’t want anyone to say anything ‘bout her scars to her until she’s gotten more used to how she looks now.”

              “Makes sense,” Lute muttered.  He crossed his arms.  “Max and I can’t protect Banjey from every mean kid out there.”

              “How long will it take to get her a hearin’ aid?” Violynn asked.  Mearl shook his head.  “Ya don’t know?”

              “Ain’t got the foggiest, sweet pea.”

              “I guess we’ll just have to get used to talkin’ louder until then.”

              “Or…” Harper said slowly.  All eyes turned to him.  “What if we tried usin’ some sign language?  It’d prob’ly be better fer everyone.  ‘Specially better fer Banjey.”  Mearl nodded slowly.

              “Banjey’s already started clammin’ up a bit since communicatin’ is more dif’cult fer her at the mo’.  I think yer right, Harper.  Sign language is our best bet until we can get her a hearin’ aid.”  Harper beamed.  “Why don’t ya take yer siblin’s ‘n go to the lib’ary.  See if ya can find some books or whatnot on sign language so’s we can work on learnin’ it.”

              “We’re all gonna have to learn it?” Lute whined.

              “That’s how languages work,” Viola said.  “Ya need two people to be speakin’ the same one if’n  ya want ‘em to understand each other.”

              “I guess…” Lute mumbled.

              “I think that my college has sign language classes, too,” Harper said eagerly.  “I can take some.”

              “I don’t want ya to change yer educational path, son.”

              “A coupla classes won’t have any big changes,” Harper said.  He held out his hand.  “Can I have the keys to the truck?”

              “Nope.  Violynn can drive y’all,” Mearl said firmly.  Harper pouted.  “She’s a better driver.”  Mearl handed the truck keys to Violynn.  “When y’all get back, you’ll have to do yer chores.”  Mearl smiled.  “So feel free to take yer time at the lib’ary.”

              The kids filed out of the house and piled into the truck.  Mearl waved at them as they drove away, then closed the door and headed for Banjey’s room.  When he arrived, Sally was standing in the doorway, watching Banjey sleep.

              “She’s such a heavy sleeper,” Sally whispered.  Mearl put an arm around her shoulders.  Sally leaned her head against him.  “I’m so happy we’re all home again.”

              “We’ve got a lot to get through, but we can do it,” Mearl said firmly.  They both watched Banjey turn in her sleep, mumbling something about frogs.  “‘Cause we’re goin’ through it together.”

#man this AU has been occupying my mind as of late lakjdsnfkadsd #Firefighter AU #McGucket Family #Pa McGucket #Ma McGucket #Angie McGucket #Harper McGucket #Violynn McGucket #Lute McGucket #(not tagging the other two bc they say like one line each sorry) #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

[selfindulgentfandomstuff]

What's one or multiple song(s) from your favorite musical artist that you associate with ur f/o(s)?



HII tyy Cici!! <33

hmmm i don't really have one single favorite musical artist so i'll just choose a few songs I associate with Murdoc x Emmett and list em below and explain why!! :D (in no particular order!) some of these don't make much sense unless you're in my head, unfortunately but they are Murdoc x Emmett songs, i prommy :3

-----

Doin' Time - Lana Del Rey

Evil, I've come to tell you that she's evil, most definitely Evil, ornery, scandalous and evil, most definitely The tension, it's getting hotter I'd like to hold her head underwater

Murdoc, reporting back to the Phoenix Foundation about his ex-wife, Amber, who is, also, an assassin and contract killer!

The Wolf - SIAMES

I'm not even gonna explain this one. just trust me. its about the vibes dude.

Everything Black - Unlike Pluto

again, somewhat self explanatory lol

Feel It Still - Portugal the Man

THE. VIBES.

Die For You - The Weeknd

I don't want this feelin', I can't afford love I try to find a reason to pull us apart It ain't workin', 'cause you're perfect, and I know that you're worth it I can't walk away, oh

OKAY, this whole song fits them but these lines in particular frrr!!! Murdoc is absolutely the type to be in vehement denial about being in love (again) but ultimately giving in!!

THATS ALL I CAN THINK OF FOR NOW FOLKS SORRY-

#i love you just a little too much #selfship #selfship asks #self insert: emmett becker #s/i: emmett becker #self insert asks #asks #selfshippinglover

[xenodile]

Where do I even START with what Bylgrael is going through after Titan, holy fuck

Like, this is The Terrible Awful No Good Very Bad Two Months Of Everything Going Wrong.  She’s feelin’ good, she just brought down Titan, proving to herself that the Company of Heroes can all eat shit, she’s feeling closer to Y’shtola now that she finally opened up about her past, everyone like her.

Then she takes the scenic route on her way back to the Waking Sands.  She’s curious when Tataru isn’t in the foyer to greet her as usual.  The smell hits her first.  An overpowering stench of blood, more intense than she’s ever known.

She’d seen members of her father’s crew die or go overboard, she’s not a stranger to death, but what could possibly prepare her for this?  Her home, her place of safety, where her friends were, the walls and floors coated with gore and reeking of blood.  A’aba, Aulie, Clive and his sister, Harhibert, Yun and her mismatched companions, the guardsmen, new recruits; she’d never seen so many bodies in one place, let alone bodies with faces that had become familiar to her, whose names she knew.

This was all wrong!  This wasn’t supposed to happen!  The knights in the stories never came home to find everyone dead!  The hero was always received by their friends and family, because the hero had saved them!  Wasn’t that what she’d done!?  She’d beaten Titan, she’d saved the day, so why was everyone dead!?

It’s worse when she finds Noraxia still breathing but obviously beyond saving.  She doesn’t know any healing magic, she can only watch helplessly as life fades from the Sylph.  For a singular mercy, the vision she gains from the Echo gives her the full picture.  Minfilia, Tataru, Urianger, and Papalymo are at least still alive, and Y’shtola and Yda were absent all together, but she had no idea where they were.

She tries to call for Minfilia over the linkshell but gets no response, silence to reinforce that for the first time in her entire life, she is completely and utterly alone.  

What if Y’shtola and the others never made it back?  What if Minfilia and the captives had already been executed?  At least with the dead she knew what happened, but the fear of never seeing her friends again and not knowing what had happened to them was far worse.  And then there were the Garleans.  They’d swept in and butchered the Scions as if it were nothing.  Bylgrael knew she was strong, but was she strong enough to fight these people that had turned the Waking Sands into a slaughterhouse without opposition?

Being tasked by the locals of Vesper Bay to help dispose of her dead companions does nothing to help her.  Everything feels numb as she hauls familiar corpses to the wagon, just to pile them up like refuse, all the while the common folk go about their lives as if nothing had happened.  She can’t even feel angry.  Just cold and scared.

What does she do now..?  What can she do?  She killed two Primals, but fat lot of good that was when she could lose everything anyway!  Some knight she turned out to be, she’d have been better off never leaving her father’s ship.

--------

Alphinaud had only deigned to visit the Waking Sands a handful of times, so while he was acquainted with his fellow Scions, he wouldn’t say he knew them particularly well.  What he did know however, was that Bylgrael, slayer of two primals and hero of the people to boot, had been away during the Massacre, and she was his best and only chance to see his dreams of a united Eorzea fulfilled.  On the few times he had chanced to speak with the woman herself, she had been quiet, reserved, but determined.

So he was quite shocked when he had scarcely taken three steps into the Church of Saint Adama when the 7 and half fulm tall fully armored Sea Wolf practically hurled herself at him and started bawling into his chest.  Hardly the dignified entrance he had hoped to make, but perhaps he should have foreseen this.  Morale was invaluable to warriors of all kinds, ‘twas only reasonable that even the famed eikon-slayer would be shaken by the loss of her comrades.

That they hardly knew each other was inconsequential, all that mattered was he was a Scion, and the first familiar face Bylgrael had seen in days.

He bit his tongue and allowed Bylgrael to use his coat as handkerchief until she had calmed down.  She sheepishly muttered out an apology when she finally let go, so at least she had some sense of propriety.

---------

Taking deep, steadying breaths, Bylgrael listened intently as Alphinaud laid out his plan.  He and Cid would pave the way for her to confront Garuda, then together they would locate the missing Scions.  It was a vague plan, but it was more plan than Bylgrael had considered.  She was still weary and distraught, but now was the time to focus on what she could do.  She could kill gods.  Alphinaud and Cid would figure out where to go and what to do, and she would see it done.  And they would find the others.  Minfilia, Y’shtola, Papalymo, Urianger, Yda, and Tataru.  They had to be alive, and once Garuda was deal with, they would find them.

The knights of her stories faced hardship on their quests.  She knew this, but hadn’t fully understood what it meant to experience it.  Her story was not over.

She was still embarrassed by her emotional display just moments prior so she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but she was grateful to the young Elezen.  With just a few confident words, he reminded her of what she had come to Eorzea for, and that she was capable of doing it.  She will be the hero she had so long aspired to be, and she will do it be seeing Alphinaud’s dream to fruition.

#David plays FFXIV #Bylgrael #The MSQ Replay #I wrote this much about like 3 quests worth of cutscenes how hard am I gonna go about Coerthas...

[inquixotic]

BEACH HUT CONFESSIONALS, DAY 1

pulled by the film crew to get her interview done, charlotte was a little confused — she had thought this was, like, natural venting, not staged.  

how are you feeling about your couple? are they your type?

“oh, he’s sweeter than cherry pie, absolutely. we get on real well so far. it’s only day one, y’know, so jury’s out, but i’m feelin’ pretty lucky with enzo.”

if they chose you, explain how you felt or why you stepped forward for them.

“he’s handsome, isn’t he?” she laughs like it’s quite obvious. “i don’t know. enzo has such a wonderful aura about him, i suppose. i just thought we’d get along well, and that i’d like to know him better. i feel pretty lucky, knowing he had such a hard decision up there. the other folks who stepped up with me are just gorgeous.”

if you stepped forward for anyone else, why?

“romi’s lovely, y’know, and what i really want here, for all of us, is to find what we’re lookin’ for. going based off looks and two words really isn’t much, and the first person i stepped out for picked me, and i guess i just wanted them all to know i was still open for other conversations too, even if enzo seemed like he’d be tickin’ every box.”

are there other islanders that you still want to get to know? who else has caught your eye?

“well, i thought i’d want to get to know layla.” another laugh, lighthearted, but wanting to show she was serious about finding the right person. “and i suppose i still want to get to know her, but i’m a little less sure now on that one. she’s more of a firecracker than i thought she’d be. i’d like to have a chat with most of ‘em, but i’d say saint and layla seem like the right type nowadays.”

is there anyone who gives you bad vibes or you don’t think you’d get on with?

“it’s not so much bad vibes, mind you, but i think josh is trouble with a capital t. mimi and i likely just have different ways of goin’ about things, too, but that don’t necessarily mean we won’t get on, it just might take a lil tlc.”

#prompt: charlotte. #prompt1. #im gonna do replies + an open starter later tonight <3 #if anyone wants the zoom background i have for this lmk

[catncore]

❛  do i have any choice?  ❜

❝  you've always had a choice, abe-san. ❞  that was the beautiful thing about humans. human ascended angels included. they still had free will until they forfeit it for the hivemind. those who the higher plane turned their backs on had endless possibilities. it was what made them unique and so very, very interesting (to him). he was always curious to see what choices they would make. where it was their paths would lead. it was awe-inspiring, the lives they carried.

❝  i've seen many a player and reaper in my time feel that the world was against them and they've never had a choice in life. it's not until they are at rock bottom that they realize that there was endless possibilities and that they could inspire others. even those who have done wrong by human morality are not above change. the more they experience, the more of th' world they see and more options are available to them. so many possibilities. angels, who have fallen, also get that chance in their own way. bein' in shibuya changes folks. ❞ 

he regards abe for a moment before offering him a half smile, shoving his hands into his pockets. ❝  the thing about choice is, theres always a road less traveled. you don't know the outcome where there are safer routes and ensured endings. the routes where you gamble with outcome are the most interestin' in my humble opinion. theres a real rush in not knowin' what will happen' and you grow a lot more from it. one day, you'll get to understand that feelin' for yerself. you might even come t' enjoy it instead of heed it. thats th' thing about it. you get t' choose. ❞ 

#falseapostle #` ✦ ↷ ʳᵉᵖˡʸ▐⋮ face the noise. ★★✰✰✰ ┊ easy.