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dockett · 1 year

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Asking Nicely II Joel Miller x Reader

Joel's jealousy burns within him, brighter than he thought it would. But you're a tough gal, you can hold your own.

Warning: implied age gap, unwelcome advances, brief depiction of violence, explicit content, fingering f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex. 18+ only, minors DNI!

Word count: 3k

You were a bright and shining light in the darkness of a broken world, and whether Joel would admit it or not, it made him incredibly nervous. He enjoyed you, more than he wanted to say, especially to himself. He was worried that if he confessed his feelings to himself or to you, that you'd leave, or something terrible would happen. So he kept quiet, and would watch you from a distance, thinking about the way you'd fit against him in all the right ways.

He was at the bar in Jackson well past sundown. He had come to see you. You were playing that night; Tommy had asked you to. So you sat in the corner of the bar, strumming the guitar and singing as everyone quieted to listen.

Joel vaguely recognized the tune, something slow and mellow that had couples swaying together around the tables. You sang beautifully. You played beautifully. He basked in what felt like normalcy and stayed until you were done several songs later. He watched you smile as the people in the bar clapped for you.

You set the guitar in the stand, and walked up to the bar, and Joel finished his whiskey. The bartender announced last call but he stayed seated. He watched as Ben, a man about your age, sidled up next to you and began talking to you. Joel could see you beam at him, and something stirred within him.

He kept his face carefully composed. He watched you shake your head, and then look around desperately. He felt it was a call for help. He stood as people began to leave, walking with intention in every step towards you.

“C’mon,” Ben was saying. “You said it yourself, you're not doing anything tonight. Come on over.”

“Ben, I'm flattered, really! But—oh, hi Joel.” You looked over Ben’s shoulder at Joel, relief washing over you. Joel offered you a nod and Ben turned. Joel was slightly taller than him, and heavier set than him. But Ben didn't back down immediately.

The younger man squared his shoulders, looking Joel in the eyes. Joel didn't find him to be intimidating, but he did see him as a threat. A threat to you.

Ben reached for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You tried pulling away but he kept you locked against him as the two men stared each other down. You felt uncomfortable, and you tried to pull away again. “Ben, please.”

Joel watched, clenching his fists. Anger began pouring into his chest as you glanced at him, a fleeting look that he couldn't read. He stepped towards Ben. “You had best listen to her.”

“Or what?” Ben sneered. You wormed your way out of his grasp. He turned his head to look down to you, and that's when you closed your hand into a fist and punched him.

Ben stumbled back from the force of the blow, and Joel stepped between you and the man. The bar went silent, the remaining people fixing their eyes on the trio. Joel might as well have been a wolf, hackles raised and growling as Ben touched his jaw. Ben glared at Joel, spitting out, “Son of a bitch.”

“Move along now, son,” Joel replied, preparing himself for the imminent fight.

You breathed hard, your fury written across your face, and when Ben looked to you, you held his gaze and cocked an eyebrow. You wanted to dare him to overstep again, especially now that Joel was here. Your knuckles throbbed from the impact of the blow. It made you feel alive.

Ben scoffed, shaking his head, and turned to leave. Joel stood between you the whole time, waiting for the door to close behind him before turning to you. He looked you up and down, asking silently with his eyes if you were okay. He reached down, grabbing onto your hand, looking at the red skin over your knuckles. One of them had split, and was dripping blood.

“C’mon,” he said, jerking his head to the right. “Let's get you outta here.”

•••

Joel sat across from you and tended to your wounds with gentle hands. He had a clean rag in his hands that was soaked in alcohol; you commented that he was good at this. He wiped the area around the split, and then dabbed at the wound itself.

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away at the sting, but you held firm, watching him as he furrowed his brow. “I've patched myself up enough to know, I guess.”

Nodding your head, you sighed. “I shouldn't have punched him.”

“If you hadn't, I would've,” he quipped. “No one gets to touch you like that.”

Amusement beamed at your eyes as you looked at him. You had seen the flash of jealousy in his eyes earlier, and you could see it again more clearly now. “My my, is Joel Miller jealous?”

Joel froze, clearing his throat, and you knew you had caught him like a rabbit in a trap. “No.”

“Uh huh,” you teased. He frowned, setting down the rag before standing. Your smile disappeared. You didn't realize you had struck such a strong chord.

“I should get goin’.”

“Hey,” you said, reaching out and grabbing onto his arm as he tried to step away. “I'd like it if you stayed.”

The man locked up again, his gaze snapping to yours in an instant. You rose from the chair. “Please?”

He sighed. “Suppose ya did ask nicely.”

You grinned up at him, and then your hands moved, one resting on his chest and the other on his neck. He was still, his breath hitching. His voice was deathly quiet when he whispered, “What’re you doin?”

Pressing your body against his, you tilted your head up. “Something I should've done a long time ago,” you whispered back, and then you kissed him.

He whined. Almost silent, but it was there, swallowed by your mouth as you moved your lips against his. You began to pull away when he didn't respond immediately, fear of overstepping suddenly at the forefront of your mind.

Then, his hands pressed into your lower and upper back, keeping you from backing away. He kissed you back, and he kissed you hard. It was zealous and feverish, growing more intense as the hand you had on his neck inched up and back into the hair on the back of his head. You were pressed backward into the table. Joel pulled away, you whined in protest, and then you were lifted by your hips up onto the surface.

His lips returned to yours, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped from your mouth as his tongue darted out, licking over your bottom lip. You met him, tongues tangling together, as you spread your legs to accommodate his body between them. You could feel wetness pooling at the apex of your thighs. You could feel the heat of the moment possessing you—Joel possessing you—and you gasped for breath when he pulled his head away. His touch left wakes of fire, tingling sensations burning across your skin. You needed more.

“Maybe I was jealous,” he growled, and you shuddered. “Maybe I've been thinkin’ of this for weeks.”

Your cheeks flushed at his admission and your eyebrows furrowed. “Well, maybe I've been thinking about it for months.”

His eyebrows raised, and then a smirk slowly played across his lips. “Darlin’, all you ever had to do was ask.”

You swallowed, playing with one of the buttons on his flannel. “Joel,” you started, looking up at him through your lashes. “Take me to the bedroom.”

He didn't waste a second, hooking his hands under your knees and lifting you with a soft grunt. You directed him down the hallway towards your room. You expected him to throw you on the bed, to tear off your clothes, to bite you, to claim you, and you wanted these things. But when he laid you down with the softest hands, gentle and easy, you realized that you'd take any piece of him he'd give to you. His tenderness would not go unnoticed.

He licked his lips as he looked over you, splayed out on the bed beneath him, and you felt shy. You turned your head, trying to hide, and he gave you a ‘tut tut’ with his tongue. “Look at me.”

You did as he asked, and he followed it with a, “Good girl.” Your body shook in response, your cheeks burning again. He chuckled.

He leaned down, grabbing your hands and pinning them together over your head. He told you to keep them there as he kissed along the side of your neck. He undressed you methodically, undoing the buttons on your shirt, one by one. You could feel your impatience growing. “Joel.”

He hummed in response. The last button came undone and his hands found your bare sides, running up and down them before taking your breasts in his hands. He squeezed them gingerly, feeling their weight in his palms. You couldn't help squirming. You struggled with not moving your hands, you wanted to feel over him, too. You resisted the urge to touch his shoulders, to feel the muscles underneath his button up. You wanted him, more in that moment than you'd ever wanted anything else.

He undid the button and fly on your jeans, and he pulled them down and away, leaving you clad in only your underwear. He breathed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He looked at you with feral eyes. You could feel it in his gaze: he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling them off in one motion. Your hands fell then, touching his arms. He looked at you, a domineering flame in his eyes, and in one smooth motion he grabbed onto you and flipped you onto your side. A smack landed on your asscheek, stinging the skin. You yelped, and then shuddered. He chuckled.

His palm rubbed over where he'd slapped you. “What did I say?”

“Not to move my hands…” you whispered.

“Don't disobey me, darlin’.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he repeated. Your eyes closed, mouth watering at his praise. You never thought it would sound so good. He rolled you back onto your back, and came to lay beside you, propping himself up on his elbow as his other hand came to your thigh. He rubbed, and then squeezed, and then inched his way up towards your pussy.

You shuddered in anticipation. You wanted him to touch you in the spot only you had touched. He stopped moving, and you whined in protest. Your arms stayed above your head this time. You looked to him, and his eyes were watching you.

“I wanna make sure,” he mumbled. “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “But…”

He tensed. “Yes?”

“I haven't done this—” you started, and then felt yourself hesitating. You felt embarrassed. “—this kinda shit before.”

His eyebrows raised and he squeezed your thigh. “You're sure you wanna do it with me?”

You didn't hesitate this time. “I do.”

His middle and ring finger brushed up over your folds, palm resting on the junction of your thigh and pelvis. Your eyes closed, and you could feel him lean and kiss your forehead. “Alright then.”

He brought his fingers to your clit, pressing against it in slow circles—testing the water. You gasped, nails digging into your palms to keep your hands from moving. Your thighs shook ever so slightly. Joel's lips found your neck, your head rolled to the side, and he kissed your skin, leaving little nibbles in his wake as he traveled down and then up again. One finger sunk into your entrance, and your thighs jolted closed.

He waited until your legs fell again to pump in and out, and you couldn't stop the groan that left you. Joel's breathing was loud in your ear.

He sunk another finger inside of you, slowly stretching you. His fingers were so much bigger than yours, long and thick, and he played you like an instrument. He found which spots made you cry out, and he pushed and rubbed them until you were a sweaty, babbling mess in his hands. You tossed and turned your head, his lips by your ear, encouraging you.

“Doin’ so good, darlin’,” he whispered. “So wet, so tight. Oh yes, right there, huh? That's the spot. Yeah.”

Your hips bucked off the bed as he curled his fingers. Your hands shot down to your sides, gripping the blanket underneath you. He chuckled, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't focus, his fingers driving you to insanity. You knew that this would be bad for you, because you would never stop craving this. Every time you'd see him, you'd want him more than you already did. He knew it too.

His hand shifted angles, his thumb flicking at your clit as his fingers continued their ruthless assault. “Joel.”

You whispered it like a prayer.

“Cum. For me, darlin’, please.”

He flicked twice more, and everything that had been building in you exploded. Your legs slammed closed around his hand, and he moaned with you as you cried out. The waves crashed into you, carrying you further from reality, small movements of his hands driving you forward into the deep waters you recognized as Joel. You were putty in his hands. Your eyebrows furrowed, your mouth open, and Joel couldn't help but watch as you came on his fingers. He was mesmerized.

You began to come down, twitching and jerking, and then trying to scramble away from Joel's movements. It was all too much for you. It was overwhelming. Everything was loud, your combined breathing, your heart slamming in your chest and the blood pounding in your ears. You reached to grab his forearm, digging your nails into his skin, and he finally slowed to a stop. You shook like a leaf.

He kissed you then, his lips soft against yours. You realized then that he was still fully clothed, and you reached for his belt. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you from undoing it as he pulled away. You groaned, trying to express your discontent.

“Patience,” he said, ducking his head to take your nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it, flicking it with his tongue, making your back arch. He pulled away with a ‘pop!’ and you fell back onto the bed. He got up, taking off his shirt and undoing his belt. He kicked his boots off, then his pants and underwear followed, and you saw the sight you had been literally dreaming of for weeks.

He was a broad and beautiful man, scars and hair covering his body. You followed the trail of hair down from his navel, and your eyes widened at the sight of his cock. It was long, thick, curved up and weeping with precum. He got back up on the bed.

You felt nervous. Joel could see it. He took your face in his hands. “If you wanna stop, at any point, you just tell me,” he reassured.

“Okay,” you replied. “I will.”

He nodded his head, hands going down by your sides to hold himself up as he climbed over the top of you. His cock rubbed against you, your wetness coating him. He trembled.

His cock pushed into you, and your breath hitched. The stretch of him entering your pussy stung, and your hands shot to his back, gripping him. He didn't say anything, just slowly but surely worked his way inside of you. He sighed when he finally seated himself. You were breathing hard, and sweat had gathered at your temples.

“I'm gonna move, darlin’.”

You nodded, opening your eyes to find him staring at you. Something shone in his, something warm and almost loving. You wanted to drink it up, sit in this moment forever. He was looking at you like nothing else in the world mattered to him. He moved then, his thrusts deep and heavy.

It felt so goddamn good.

You cried out, and he reached down, encouraging you with his hands to wrap your thighs around his hips. You did so immediately, and it allowed him somehow even deeper access. You moaned, then gasped, then whispered his name. He hummed.

“Faster,” you whined. He obliged.

Each increase of pace was followed by squeezing him harder with your legs, or digging your nails into the skin of his back, and you cried out louder each time.

He wasn't quiet, whispering your name, whispering praises, telling you how good you were for him. He moaned when your hips shifted off the bed, trying to meet his thrusts.

“Excited, huh? Do you like when I make you feel good, sugar? F-fuck. You're so god damn tight, feels so damn good.”

“Mhmmm! Yes, Joel! I can't—I can't—”

“Can't what?” He crooned, brushing a hand across your cheek. “We both know you can cum for me again.”

That did it for you. You unraveled again. Your hand came up, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him down onto you. His body covered yours, pressing against you, his face tucking against your neck. He moaned loudly, and you shook, unable to even do much as breathe as you tightened around him over and over again. His thrusts became heavier again, more sporadic, and then he was cumming, too.

He fell against you completely, barely holding himself up. You gulped in the air when you felt like you could breathe again, resting your cheek against the side of his head. Your hands slowly relaxed.

He moved after a couple minutes of silence, pulling out of you before rolling to lay by your side. You immediately curled up against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“No no,” he replied. He gave you a smile, a genuine broad grin. “Thank you.”

#joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #oneshot #feedback welcome #dockett1109

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ramblingoak · 5 months

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Shooting His Shot

Terzo x Omega ~ This takes place in the Butt Sparkle Verse along with Copia on ICE! It's the Winter Olympics and Omega gets distracted hearing his favorite ABBA song playing nearby...

This was directly inspired by this amazing work by @ghuleh-recs!

Warnings: a love struck Omega, grumpy older brother Secondo and a Terzo that knows exactly what (and who) he wants, nsfw due to a brief daydream by Omega, 870 words

It was the ABBA blaring over the speakers that got his attention.

There’s probably a joke there about ABBA and being Swedish but whatever. Omega’s heard them all. It helped that “Voulez-Vous” was his favorite song. Well technically his mom’s favorite song but after hearing it so many times as a kid growing up it had wormed its way into his heart. He always thought of dancing around the kitchen with her whenever he heard it. So initially he was just curious why it was being played, although he wasn’t surprised to see it was due to a figure skater.

He was surprised by the skull paint though.

Of course that was only the first thing that caught his eye. His outfit was next, an elaborate costume that was sheer enough to see nipples and dark hair. It had to be borderline regulation and knowing how the officials at the Olympics could be he bet they still bitched about it. The man’s entire body seemed to sparkle as he sped around the rink. Countless spins and jumps being executed at a speed that made even Omega tired.

“Can I help you?”

All the blood in Omega’s body froze at the sound of the voice at his back. Omega would know that voice anywhere. Deep and accented, he had heard it many times in his life and each time it always managed to strike a note of fear into him. You couldn't be a hockey player anywhere without knowing who that voice belonged to. Slowly, like he was a creature trying not to upset a predator, he turned around to face another man in skull paint.

“Secondo. Hey.”

Jesus, great first impression. Secondo raised an eyebrow and impatiently crossed his arms.

“I’m waiting.”

“Uh, I don’t need any help.” He winced at the raised eyebrow that got. “Was just watching.”

“Watching my brother.”

“Yeah. I like this song.” Of course that was when the song stopped and Omega turned to see the man out on the ice striking a pose and breathing heavily.

“Well the song is done so it’s time to go.”

Omega sighed, dragging his eyes from the ice right as the man relaxed and looked his way. He took a few steps towards Secondo before stopping and taking a quick breath.

“It’s Terzo right? Your brother.”

“Sì!” Omega turned back towards the rink and was immediately met with a shining set of eyes, one green and one as white as the ice he was standing on. “It’s Terzo. And what’s your name, bello?”

“He’s leaving, it doesn’t matter.” Secondo brushed past him as he addressed his younger brother. “Get dressed so we can meet Copia and Primo.”

“It’s Omega.” Fuck it, he wouldn’t be a good hockey player if he didn’t know when to shoot his shot. “Nice to meet you.”

He chose to focus on Terzo’s amazing smile rather than Secondo’s glare.

“Omega.” Terzo dragged out the ‘a’ sound far longer than necessary. He had a brief vision in his head of Terzo also doing that while Omega pounded into him and holy fuck he was in so much trouble. “Judging by my fratello’s hostility I’m assuming you play hockey, sì?”

“Yep.” He dared to walk closer to the ice, really not sure where all this bravery was coming from but also knowing it had everything to do with how Terzo was looking at him. “Sweden.”

“Ah, well that’s a pity.” Terzo set his elbows on the short wall around the rink and rested his chin in his hands. “Here I was hoping you were Italian and I’d see you more.”

“You can see me whenever you like.” He hazarded a glance at Secondo and immediately regretted it. The glare enough to tamp down the brief moment of suave bravery he was feeling. “I mean, if you want?”

“Oh I definitely want, in fact why don’t we do lun—“

A burst of Italian from Secondo had Omega flinching and Terzo glaring at his brother. He straightened up from his lean and spat something back at him. The two went back and forth for a moment before Secondo threw his hands up in the air with an irritated shout. He directed one last glare Omega’s way before storming off.

“He ok?”

“Sì, he’s just tense. Lots of pressure. You know how it is.”

Omega nodded because he did know how it was. And with this being the Winter Olympics all that pressure was amplified exponentially. He had no doubt there would be an even larger target on his back if Sweden and Italy met on the ice this year. But with Secondo gone he felt the spark of bravery returning and knew this was as good a chance as he’d get.

“So. Lunch?”

Terzo smirked and started skating backwards along the wall. Omega followed him like a duckling, watching as his muscles moved under his costume.

“Lunch to start with.” Terzo exited the rink, grabbing his blade covers and easily slipping them on. “I’m sure we can find something to do after.”

Omega grinned, ducking his head for a moment to hide his blush. When he looked up Terzo had moved closer and Omega was definitely in trouble here. Talk about love at first sight.

Although the ABBA definitely helped too.

And thus the Butt Sparkle Verse begins...

Read Copia on ICE! part one

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#my fics #my writing #butt sparkle verse #terzo x omega #papa emeritus iii x omega #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #papa emeritus iii fanfiction #terzo #omega ghoul #terzomega #terzo fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic

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extraordinarybennyyy · 1 year

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marvellous time ruining everything

pedro pascal x reader

tw: none

"Am I fat?"

The compelling, indisputable and unambiguous question left the Chilean actor speechless, his dark eyes darting between you and your reflection in the mirror. Your long skirt billowed around your ankles, swollen belly carrying the bloom of your everlasting love, light glinting on your earrings. Such a glowing and dazzling creature, yet heartless for letting him face a question without a proper, right answer. Femme fatale.

A bomb unleashing a war.

Pedro stopped drinking from the straw, tasting the green juice on his lips. The rays of the Sun filtered through the window curtains of Oscar's house, creating a picture of shadows and lights as if you were a famous painting, a Mona Lisa.

His heart was beating fast both from how charming you looked, glowing and shining with the child inside you and from the question still lingering inside the room, like a dark cloud threatening the weather.

"Pedro?"

"¿Qué?" He pursued his lips and started drinking his juice once again nonchalantly, even if the box was already empty. An image of his mind at that moment, one could say.

"I asked you something."

"Umh."

You swivel around to face him, hands anchored to your hips, stars shining in your eyes. The hair framing your features perfectly fell on your shoulders like Niagara's falls, your painted lips shaping that question once more. Pedro felt like a kid in trouble, his mind processing an excuse to get out of the terrible situation.

Of course you had gained a little bit of weight. It was reasonable and obvious, the opposite would have been weird and left him as a worrying mess. And, of course, it didn't mean that he loved you less. Pedro loved you, the essence of you, the feeling of you. He would have loved you in every shape and form, worshiping you like a goddess. He would have even loved you if you were a worm, as he told you countless times to answer your weird question.

However -

Pedro had learnt the lesson the hard way. A few months back before even knowing you were pregnant- which seemed like years and years ago, he had noticed your little weight gain and roundness when you complained about clothes not fitting in anymore. Inconsolable tears and sobs filled the house for the entire day and more, the ticket for an unwanted concert.

That's why that question weighed a little bit more than others. What was he supposed to do? Lie and make you happy or tell you the truth and face the aftermath of it? It sounded like the stupid games his nieces made him play sometimes, where he always ended up choosing the wrong thing. Like that time he wanted Eric the asshole to be nice and heroic but Pedro eventually let him die while falling into the void.

Your expectant eyes were still looking at him, both hands on your belly. White lies are good ones, like candies, he told himself, and the last thing he wanted was seeing you cry. And unleash a bomb.

That's why he raised his head confidently, acting lessons helping him go through it, a little shaky breath leaving his lips before actually answering. "No."

An unreadable and indecipherable expression portrayed on your face. You were a lock and he was the adventurous archeologist who had to find the code to open it. Pedro felt like Indiana Jones for a brief moment and was ready to flash you a smile to give strength to his statement, when-

Out of nowhere, like the annoying know-it-all first of the class child telling the teachers everything the others did, muppet-like Oscar Isaac appeared behind Pedro's left shoulder, uttering his non-requested opinion. "You hesitated."

The bomb exploded.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal x pregnant reader #Pedro #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro x you #pedro x reader

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lightwise · 6 months

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Hunter’s Lies and Leadership in Aftermath

(Plus some misc thoughts)

Decided to do a quick little rewatch of Aftermath yesterday morning, and noticed something I haven’t paid attention to before.

(First, I have to say that one of my favorite moments out of the entire series is the first exchange between Hunter and Crosshair when Cross is still in his right mind—“Crosshair, let’s get these tanks moving!” “Sir, yes sir.” Just brings a smile to my face at their lighthearted snarkiness every time. These are their real, unburdened personalities. Ones we haven’t gotten to see since.)

As for what I noticed, I realized how much Hunter lies throughout the episode, and easily. His wartime leadership skills are at their strongest here, the easy, confident, calling-the-shots tone that designates his position as squad leader. He knows his men, he knows what they’re capable of, and he knows what needs to be done in order to accomplish a goal. He’s tactical, perceptive, quick thinking and responsive to what is happening around him even as he is also internally processing things that don’t make sense to him. (This is in stark contrast to his reserve and indecisiveness in season 2, which I’ll save for another post).

However, as close knit as the group is, and as honest as we know the Batch is and that Hunter is not intentionally manipulative, he immediately, easily, and without hesitation lies multiple times. The first time is to protect Caleb as he leaps over the waterfall and Crosshair then comes up asking where he went.

“Where’s the Jedi?”

“I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.”

Hunter knows something is up with Crosshair, though he doesn’t know what. And he wants Caleb to be safe. But his instant response is a straight up lie and he doesn’t even waver in delivering it. He furthers the lie on their return home when Crosshair questions him about it. He knows Crosshair doesn’t believe him but he’s not ready to open that can of worms mid flight.

He lies again when they land back on Kamino and a shock trooper asks him if they have a problem with what’s going on. This time though he stutters and is much less convincing in his delivery, I think both because he’s becoming more and more confused at what is going on, and also because he’s now lying to authority and could actually face consequences if he doesn’t give the “right” answer. Regardless, it’s interesting that his nerves shine through here but not when he’s talking to his squad, who would know much more quickly his tells and attitudes than a random trooper would.

His next lie is to Tech during the briefing by Palpatine to all of the clone troopers. This is the first time for this show that we see how Tech pays attention to Hunter’s reactions, and when Hunter sees Omega for the first time, Tech asks him what he sees, and Hunter says “nothing” when he realizes that Omega has disappeared.

He also sort of half lies to Omega when they leave for Onderon, telling her that a mission is a mission and that it’s nothing to worry about. He’s churning inside though. He knows none of this make sense. But of course he’s not going to tell a kid that, he wants to comfort her and make her feel at ease.

All of this makes me wonder—is this something Hunter was used to doing? Is he so used to being the leader who holds everyone together, with no one for him to really turn to, that he’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep the peace or complete their mission objective, even if it means lying to his brothers in the moment? Or is this newer for him and he’s using it as a way to cope with the sudden shift in the situations they are dealing with?

And then Saw Gerrera says something interesting when they’re trying to apprehend him on Onderon. He says to Hunter as the leader of the group specifically:

“Take a look at the group of insurgents you were sent to destroy. Makes you wonder what else they’re lying about.”

Now, I’m not saying that Hunter took this to mean “oh man I gotta stop lying to my crew because that’s what the empire is doing to us and that’s no way to lead.” But, he doesn’t lie anymore through the rest of this episode, nor in the next one. I’d have to watch through the series again to remember if there are any other occasions of him directly lying to the Batch (vs to a stranger to keep them safe). There does seem to be a shift in his demeanor after this though. And Saw’s words seem to help him coalesce his thoughts because he quickly comes to the decision that they are going to get Omega and then desert, and he doesn’t hide this from any of the Batch members, not even Crosshair.

Side note 1: This episode also has some really beautiful indications of how much Hunter cares too: him saying “nice work” to Crosshair after their training session, him yelling “no!” when Caleb and Crosshair are fighting because he’s worried about either of them harming the other, and him telling Omega to stay away from them because their squad is nothing but trouble.

Side note 2: Omega tells Crosshair that she knows what he’s going to do before he’s taken away. Then when they are all gearing up in the hanger and about to go look for Crosshair, she hears footsteps coming and tells them they won’t have to look far. She knows that not only are they about to be found by troopers in general, but that Crosshair specifically will be with them. I wonder if as Nala Se’s assistant she knew what the procedure would be to try and enhance Crosshair’s chip and turn him against them.

#the bad batch #Hunter bad batch #tech bad batch #crosshair bad batch #omega bad batch #aftermath #Hunter #tbb #analysis #Hunter analysis #some light ramblings #somelightramblings

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bisexualcage · 2 months

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hey! first off, i just wanna say i love your writing and the way you write johnny! if you’re comfortable with it, would you write a johnny x reader fic where reader is asexual (can be any gender) and tells johnny one night and thinks he’s gonna be like upset or whatever by the news but he’s actually really supportive and asks about it to learn more? and maybe at some point reader or johnny’s friend (or honestly just a random stranger would work too lol) asks how reader can be asexual but romantic at the same time?

totally not based off a convo i had with my friend lmao

- Hey! Thank you so much ahhh ❤️ Took my time with this one, hope you like it and that I hope did some sort of justice for ace rep <3, p.s changed a few things up

Shades of Black, Grey, White, & Purple /

Johnny Cage x Gender Neutral!Asexual Reader

warnings: brief dialogue about intimacy, sex ect.

An: I proofread this pretty quickly lol

“You haven’t touched your food, honey…”

Johnny and you decided to attend a pride parade, with that came some hot greasy foods and just overall a good time. It was Johnny’s first time attending one with you, according to him he’s a “pride parade veteran” which made you laugh. But despite the laughs and the great atmosphere you couldn’t help but grow sour at what was growing inside of you and what’s been eating at you for weeks now since you’ve both been dating.

You snap out of your trance as you hear Johnny’s voice echo in your ear; “Oh- yeah- my bad.” you take a bite out of your corn dog and chuckle.

Johnny of course didn’t buy it, he shrugged it aside for the sake of having a good time but you could tell that he could tell something has been up lately. An occasional fan of his would stop him for a selfie or two as you both admired the different pride flags being waved in display and ate food, his arm around your waist as he pulled you against his side. Music blasted in the background and whistles went off as people walked down the street celebrating, it was such an inviting and welcoming atmosphere.

Johnny takes a bite out of your corn dog without much warning and grinned, “Hey, you ain’t eating it so I might as well.”

You chuckle back and lean your head against his shoulder as you both walked, but pause as soon as you spot an huge asexual flag being waved by a person. Your heart beat went fast, your skin turning warm. You’ve been doing research on asexuality for a while now, it’s been keeping you up at night and has consumed most of your days. Trying to figure out if that was missing puzzle piece you needed. Seeing another person identify the same way made you earn goosebumps and it gave you a contagious smile that Johnny quickly took notice of.

“Aw, what’s up baby? See something you like that isn’t me?” He says cockily but with a playful tone, his shades shining against the sun.

You roll your eyes and elbow him softly with a snort; “Shut up, Johnny.” You smile at him. His eyes follow yours and they see how you’re staring at the big flag a few feet away, he raises his eyebrow but doesn’t question it.

“Say, I’m not that knowledgeable about pride flags, care to tell me a few?”

You snort, “I thought you said you were a ‘Pride Veteran’.”

Johnny laughs, “And I am! I just haven’t studied up on all the flags yet. I mean, I know the rainbow one and the bisexual one.”

“I’d be concerned you being a bisexual man and not knowing those.” You snort loudly.

Johnny bites his lip at your teasing and leans in to kiss your cheek, “So you gonna tell me a few other flags?”

You hum, thinking about the asexual flag but quickly shove it aside seeming as you’re not ready to open that can of worms yet. “…oh there’s the lesbian flag, it’s all pinkish and reddish!”

Johnny’s eyes light up, “Oh yeah? I think I saw that one being flown early I was wondering what it was!”

You chuckle as you continue to tell him about a few other flags, like the trans flag and the non binary one. It was fun seeing him so engaged in queer culture, his eyes light up like a Christmas tree when he sees you explaining them. An ice cream vendor with a little cart comes in to view suddenly and Johnny almost jumps at the sight, running to the man and dragging you with him.

“What flavors you got?” Johnny said a bit too excitedly at the vendor.

“Coconut, passion fruit-“ the vendor went on.

“PASSION FRUIT?!” You interrupt, your mouth watering. “Can I have passion fruit please?!”

Johnny looked at you an unmistakable warmth in his eyes and shook his head at your enthusiasm. “I’ll have the same as this nerd over here.” He elbows you playfully.

The vendor quickly got to scooping passion fruit ice cream in to 2 cups and handing them over to you both, you begin licking the soft serve immediately.

“How much is it?” Johnny takes out his wallet like it was an automatic thing, he always refused to let you pay no matter how much you insisted to him so you just let him eventually.

“6 bucks.” The vendor said with a smile.

Johnny laughed and shook his head, “Look man, I only have 100$ dollar bills on me— I don’t have change but take it. It’s fine-“

The vendor puts up his hands, “No sir, I can’t do that-“

Johnny grabs the man’s hand and places the 100$ dollar bill in his palm, “Take it. I have too many of these anyways. Give out the rest of the ice cream if you want to the rest of the pride parade. Say it’s a gift from Johnny Cage, okay?” Johnny smiles warmly and pulls you to walk with him while you both consumed the icy treat in the warm summer weather.

“Man, you didn’t even let him refuse-“ you laugh, warmth overtaking your cheeks at his philanthropic behavior he always exhibited.

Johnny licked the creamy ice cream down, giving you a look, “You know me honey, I’m stubborn.”

“Well- not just stubborn but caring.” You give him a kiss on the cheek.

Johnny blushes, “Oh zip it.”

“I love seeing you red, sorry!”

As you both finish your ice cream the pride parade seems to settle down a bit and so you both take a seat on a park bench, enjoying each others company. Johnny kept looking at you every few seconds, not hiding his infatuation with you. At the back of your head you were struggling with how to break the news to him with your asexuality. It ate at you every day and you can no longer take it, it scared you how he’d react even though he’s never given you a reason to. Always been keen to learn more and never judged people on sexuality or identity but still.

You take a deep breath and look at him shyly, playing with your hands as birds flew over you both and the sun toasted your skins. “I gotta tell you something…” you trail off, not really making eye contact with him.

Johnny spotted your jittery behavior and placed a muscly arm around your shoulders; “Please, don’t tell me you like pineapple on pizza.” He jokes, trying to make you laugh while you were clearly struggling to look at him.

You snort loudly, his joke working in making you lighten up a bit. “Remember how I told you how I’d tell you whenever I’d be ready for…more intimidate things? I’m not sure that’s gonna happen.”

Johnny nodded, his expression growing serious and his eyebrows furrowing with worry.

“…been thinking a while on this and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m…” you continue and grow red, swallowing hard.

“It’s okay, honey. Tell me.” Johnny whispers in you ear, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.

“I’m- I’m asexual.” You blurt out, closing your eyes tightly.

Johnny stays quiet thinking deeply, going through word choices carefully in his head. But he didn’t seem at all bothered to which you let out a relieved sigh, he was filled with curiosity and a small grin on his face. “Okay, can you explain more to me, baby?”

You blush and lean your head on his shoulder lazily, sighing; “It’s when you experience little or no sexual attraction to others. That being said, it’s more of a spectrum ya know? Everyone is different. There’s asexuals who participate in sex despite not really having sexual attraction, and there’s others who’d rather not want to participate in sexual intercourse whatsoever.”

Johnny’s gears turn, trying to be careful with what he wants to say; “Oh okay. That’s cool!” He swallows deeply now, a shyness overcoming his expression; “…Do you still love me despite being asexual? Or how does it work?” The actor says with apprehension, “Sorry if it’s a stupid question-“

You hug him firmly and rub his back; “It’s not. Babe, me being asexual doesn’t negate the fact that I love you with my entire heart. There’s a difference between romantic and sexual attraction and trust me I’ve never not been romantically in love with you. Someone who lacks romantic attraction is aromantic. In fact, lots of asexuals like me seek romantic relationships.”

Johnny grows red, his nose nuzzling against your neck; “Oh that makes sense, duh!” He laughs and it’s gently dies down before he speaks again; “I love you so much, thank you for trusting me with this— I know it couldn’t be easy. But I never EVER would have denied you your own experience.” He now starts rubbing your back, not caring how public y’all were with affection.

There was a warmth that overtook you as soon as he said those words, a sense of peace; “Oh thank god- I- I was so scared to break it to you. I didn’t want to disappoint in any expectations-“

Johnny leaned back a bit and caressed your jaw with his warm hand, “Shhh, you’d never. How can I shame you for something that you are? Something you can’t help, honey? Whether you want to have sex or not any sex whatsoever that’s not the core of our relationship.”

You nod, a tear trickling down your cheek, “You’re too good for me.”

Johnny kisses your wet cheek softly; “No, quite the opposite. You’re so patient and kind to me, so willing to teach me about things when you don’t gotta do shit. The least I can do is be receptive and kind back.”

The afternoon was slowly seeping in to evening, the sky was no longer too sunny and darkness was beginning to cloud the skies. The pride festival had almost nearly died down and there was only a few people walking about.

“Can I ask you something though? Earlier, you were staring at this big purple, black and white flag…was that the asexual flag?” He quirks up an eyebrow with pure curiosity.

You chuckle, seeing how easily he always read you; “Yeah, it was, I was gonna tell ya but…I got stuck.”

“Honey, I saw it all over your face. You’ve been off all these days and now…well, we know why. Hopefully you feel better now yeah?” He rubs your back and pecks your nose.

“Completely…” you breathe out with a happy sigh, “It’s like I can breathe now.”

Johnny grins at you lovingly, his smile reaching his eyes. He then brings you up with him off the bench, “How about we head home, and we can over what you’re comfortable with and not? Maybe we’ll watch a film and snuggle up too, how’s that sound sugar?”

“Magical, just…magical.”

#johnny cage #mortal kombat #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x gn reader #johnny cage x ace reader #mk1 #johnny cage x you

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foli-vora · 1 year

Text

one step at a time: ch 3.

pero tovar x f!reader

masterlist | series masterlist

a/n: we're back! i didn't mean to go so long between updates for this but i got side-tracked with other things lmao. hope you enjoy loves x

word count: 2.7k

warnings: swearing, sexism, brief mention of violence, food and tovar's appetite, like a smidgen of angst - nothing crazy

! please note that this story is for 18+ only due to future explicit scenes !

The cursor blinks at you, sitting patiently in the search bar and waiting for the letters to be typed. You chew your food slowly, wondering where in the hell you were meant to start when it comes to time travel, and that’s even if this was time travel. Was dimension hopping a thing? Alternate universes?

You groan, letting your head fall and slap the keys of your laptop.

“Fuck.”

Tovar doesn’t hear your struggle in the kitchen, too busy completely engrossed in the documentary playing across the television screen.

It had taken a while to settle him in front of it. He was too busy in complete shock at the moving picture and jumping forward to poke at the screen in search of the tiny people held within it. It had also taken quite a few sharp slaps to his hands to get him to stop putting greasy fingerprints all over your TV.

Sighing, you sit back up and sip at your drink before typing ‘time travel’ and pressing enter. It brings up a few space and science pages, none pushing you in even the slightest of right directions.

You briefly glance over the other search results and click ‘wormhole’. You make a noncommittal noise and click into some pages, eyes rolling over the different theories and possibilities.

“What is ‘worm-hole’?”

You startle at the sudden voice beside your ear.

“Jesus fuck, Tovar—you need a bell around your neck! Uh, a tunnel of sorts, I guess. I suppose it could be possible… y’know, me being on this end and you on the other, and you just—” you make a motion of tipping over, your lips puckering into a thoughtful pout, “—falling through.”

“A tunnel.”

“Yeah,” you muse quietly, scrolling down the page and glancing back at Tovar.

He scowls at you and suddenly you feel the urge to curl in on yourself in defence.

“What?”

“You think I fell through a tunnel.”

“It’s not a normal tunnel, it’s a… it’s like a funky time and space tunnel,” you pause, hearing the words come back around and through your ears - you sound batshit fucking insane. “You know what, Tovar? It’s better than nothing. What are your theories?”

“Sorcery.”

You make a face of disbelief, eyeing him from over your shoulder. “Yes, because that’s so much better than my space tunnel idea.”

“I think I’d know if I fell through a tunnel,” he frowns down at you, crossing his arms.

“It’s not a normal tunnel!” Sighing, you let your head fall back in exhaustion before lightly slapping your laptop shut. “Okay, why don’t we start with what you remember?”

“I remember my horse. I remember William. And then I remember you and your death machine.”

“And my right hook,” you drawl with a teasing curl of your lips, spinning leisurely back and forth on the aged bar stool and making a playful swinging gesture to his face.

You expect a bit of snark in return. Maybe a bite back, or a snide comment along the lines of ‘it didn’t even hurt’, but instead a brief flicker of a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth and he nods, rubbing his fingers along the line of his jaw.

“And that. I will admit, it was an admirable strike—”

You perk up, your smile widening, “Yeah? Thanks—”

“—for a woman.”

“Oh fuck off.” Your scowl is immediate. “We don’t do that anymore, alright? Cut that shit out right now, or I’ll hit you on the other side. I’m serious, you dick, stop laughing at me!”

His chuckles calm and his head tilts, regarding you with open curiosity and a shine of mischievousness.

“I have held my own against many men on the battlefield, you may have caught me off guard before but I assure you, it will not happen ag–”

He stops short as the leftover corner of your toast bounces from his face and drops to the floor, a few crumbs left clinging to the skin of his nose and hanging in his facial hair.

You blink, unimpressed and almost bored as his utterly bewildered gaze moves from the toast sitting at his sock clad feet to your eyes.

“That shut you up, didn’t it?” You murmur, reaching for your glass and taking a leisurely sip. “Don’t make me throw the orange juice next. Cut your sexist bullshit out – it’s stupid. If you’re gonna be around for a little while, you need to be better, and do better. And, actually, when you do return to wherever the hell you came from, you should stop it, too. Women don’t need your shit, Tovar.”

His gaze drops to the floor and he bends to pick the toast up, giving a curt nod once he straightens. You’re satisfied with the way he seems to hold himself, slightly abashed and apologetic, so you move on from the topic with no further scolding.

“Good. So, nothing else? No… tingles? Wind? Some person calling themselves ‘the Doctor’ and telling you not to blink? No voice that sounds incredibly like Morgan Freeman?”

His brows briefly come together in confusion but his head gives a small shake of denial.

“No, none of that. It all happened very fast. I blinked, and then I was here.”

You hum in thought, “Well… I got nothing.”

Absolutely nothing, beyond a few web pages.

What the hell are you meant to do?

Pray? To whom? Randomly email an astrophysicist hoping they have some sort of crazy scientific device? See a shrink?

It’s not like you have a portal gun ready to just send him back home in a whirl of green. You had no big fucking magic rocks for him to touch. He was just there. No theatrics, no grand god-like display of power or what-the-fuck-ever. Just… there.

“I suppose we could take a drive back to where it happened?” You ask with a tone of uncertainty, chewing on your lip as his gaze falls back on you.

It was late in the afternoon now, nearing sundown – the highway should be relatively slow by now and safe enough for him to wander along. You don't need him getting run over again.

“We could see if there’s anything unusual where you appeared. Maybe you’ll just get zapped back.”

“‘Zapped’?”

You stand, poking a finger into his side and making a low buzzing noise, “Zzzap.”

He bats you away with a vicious scowl, “You are a child.”

“Zzzap. We’ll leave in like twenty minutes, okay?” You smile, brushing past him and heading for your room. “And brush your hair, Tovar—you look like a fucking caveman.”

—

“You can get one.”

His scowl is furious, his arms packed with his many snack choices from the shelves. You stand firm, crossing your arms and raising a brow when he makes no move to return any of the packets cradled to his chest.

“I am hungry,” he snarls quietly.

“I understand that,” you grit out, tugging at the corner of a packet of potato chips and frowning when he tightens his hold, “but you don’t need this much sodium. Give me these, you fucking animal—”

It’s a small struggle, catching the attention of a few passers-by in the service station. You shove at his shoulder when he all but growls at you, fending you away and trying to move around you with his assortment.

God, he’s gonna leave without paying.

You tug firmly at his sleeve and tear him back, launching to pull a couple of packets out of his arms and yelping when he swats at your hands.

“God damn it, Tovar, you’re making a scene—”

“You are making a scene!”

“And I’m the child here?!”

It goes for a few more minutes before you give up, sighing sharply and bracing your hands on your hips, standing in the middle of the aisle and not letting him step around you much to his annoyance.

He’s infuriating.

Was this whole thing some sort of divine test? A life lesson in patience?

“Fine,” you hiss, forcing a smile towards the older man who shuffles past with a frown of confusion before returning your attention to your new roommate, “you win, you barbarian. You can have two, but that is it.”

“Three.”

“Oh god, fine! Whatever.”

He’s noticeably proud of himself while you pay, even going as far as thanking the guy behind the counter before smirking smugly at you while he brings his snacks back into his arms and follows you back out to the car. You ignore him tearing into the packets and pull back out onto the road, even refusing to look at him when he addresses you.

Your refusal to acknowledge him seems to bother him after some time driving, and he waves a hand in your direction to try and claim your attention. His frown merely deepens when your eyes stay locked in front of you.

“Are you upset with me, loquita?”

Paying no attention to him and his apparent new nickname for you, you reach for the radio and turn up the music, drowning out the loud crunch of his eating and raspy voice.

It’s childish, but you figure it’s just matching his energy. You could act like a toddler, too. Moron.

“Ah,” he hums around a mouthful of chips, his voice mostly covered by the loud music filling the car, “I see.”

A shift of movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention, and your gaze flicks to it in a passing wave of interest. You eye the open bag of chips held out to you before meeting Tovar’s eyes, determined to not let him break the shell of attitude you’d grown from his antics, but a brief tug pulls at your lips before you can stop it.

“You can share?” You ask in faux surprise, reaching out and snagging a small handful of chips and shoving them into your mouth.

“You can speak?” He returns snarkily, fighting the curl of his own amused smile as he pulls the bag of chips back into his space. “Do you remember where it was? This road looks the same to me.”

He’s not wrong.

The road sprawls out seemingly forever in one straight path, nothing but barren land and sand stretching out on either side, but you’re fairly certain you remember the exact point along the highway he appeared. It was only yesterday morning, after all.

Surprise rockets through you as a frown starts to grow between your brows. Yesterday? Is that it? It feels like you’ve known him for longer than that. No wonder you feel a deep exhaustion pulling at the back of your mind—so much had happened in such a short amount of time.

You turn off onto the shoulder of the highway around where you believe it happened, your tyres rolling over the gravel with a crunch as you pull to a slow stop.

Tovar looks around, his hawk-like eyes taking in all of your surroundings and nodding silently to himself.

“I think this is it,” you murmur, stepping out of your car and into the remaining heat of the setting sun.

There’s nothing.

Everything was as it should be, and you hate it.

You can’t help but deflate in disappointment.

Although if there had been some sort of magic, swirling portal waiting suspended in the air, surely it would’ve been on the news by now. Maybe it’s best there wasn’t anything noticeable—you’ve seen enough movies to know how that would go in regards to the Government.

Tovar’s feet carry him around the general area, his eyes looking this way and that, waiting for the few cars travelling to pass before going and standing in the middle of the lanes, his frown deepening with every pace he takes up and down the road.

You hope to watch him just disappear, to just take one step and vanish. You want him to go home, to have his familiar comforts and friends. You want it to be that easy.

But, evidently, it won’t be.

You heave a small sigh, looking up to where a few stars start to shine brightly through the fading light of the sunset as if they’d hold the answers to your dilemma. There’s no magical shooting star leading you in the right direction, no breeze of something carrying potential.

There’s fucking nothing.

Your gaze falls back to Tovar where he drags his feet along the road, the cool breeze blowing softly across the road and chilling the bare skin of your cheeks.

“Do you… I don't know… feel anything?”

He shakes his head, the barely concealed disappointment on his face making somewhere deep in your chest ache.

You knew from the beginning that this was a long shot, but you still couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down. You heave a sigh and walk over to your car, perching yourself softly on the front of the bonnet.

“I’m sorry, Tovar.”

“It’s not your fault, loquita,” he sighs deeply, digging his hands into the pocket of the old and faded slouchy black hoodie you’d bought him from the thrift shop as his eyes follow the last bits of light from the horizon. “It was worth a try, no?”

“Hey,” you mutter softly after watching him quietly for a few moments, smiling when his eyes fly to you. “It’s me and you, remember? We’ve got this, we’ll find a way.”

His lips twitch before he nods, his eyes shining with something close to appreciation as you stand and nod for him to get in the car, thinking of the one and only thing that could bring him out of the understandable wave of sadness overtaking him.

“Come on – let’s go and get some more food. I’m about to blow your mind.”

—

You’ve never seen someone tear into a burger the way Tovar does.

It’s not a small fucking burger, and yet he very nearly fits the entire thing into his mouth. Teeth dig in and tear at the bun and meat, smearing an assortment of ketchup and mustard along his lower lip and chin, but it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

He barely stops mid chew to shovel more fries into his mouth, making a low noise of approval before resuming his destruction of the burger and then moving for a burrito.

His banquet is spread across the coffee table, with food and wrappers from several different fast food restaurants taking up every bit of surface area available.

You snort around the straw of your drink, watching him from where you’re curled into the couch, your feet tucked comfortably beneath you.

“Breathe, Tovar,” you murmur in heavy amusement, pleased he seemed to be enjoying himself after the disappointing turn of events from earlier.

All you receive is a muffled grunt in response.

You casually flick through the channels before settling on a documentary that seems to perk Tovar’s attention, content to let him enjoy a little show with his meal while you sink into the couch. He’s enraptured, his dark eyes barely leaving the screen as he soaks in the information given by the narrator and you settle deeper into the cushions, leaning your head on the arm of the couch.

It’s heavy. You feel heavy. It grows with each second—the exhaustion. It starts to creep along your shoulders and wrap its thin, soothing tendrils around the edges of your mind, coaxing you into inky black depths.

Has it really only been a day? How long would it take you to get him home? Would you ever find a way? What would you do if you couldn't?

The questions swirl through your mind as you start to doze off, unaware of the time passing as the night goes on. You briefly wake when you feel something move in your hands, and sleepily fumble for whatever was taken from your hold before a familiar husk melts into your ears.

“Tovar?” You mumble in heavy confusion, voice thickened from sleep.

“Come, loquita,” he murmurs gently, coaxing you to stand on shaky legs and keeping a strong arm wrapped and braced around your waist to keep you from falling.

Your head hangs, struggling with the weight of sleep hanging over you, and it comes to rest softly on his shoulder, your nose brushing over the soft feel of his T-shirt.

Mm, smells nice.

You stumble in a haze as he starts to lead you forward, but the confusion gives way to vague understanding when you eventually feel the soft feel of your mattress hit your legs. You fall forward and immediately snuggle into your pillows, wrapping your arms around the plump feel of one and sighing softly.

The feel of your quilt getting pulled up and tucked around your body is the last thing you’re aware of before you sink back into the call of dreams.

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @artsymaddie, @untitledarea,

pero tovar tags: @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @dins-cyare, @clydesducktape, @serini-ty, @jauntyhornsolo, @bbyanarchist, @quicksilvermad, @nectav, @littleone65, @joelmiller81, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @shadowolf993,

osaat tags: @magikfanatic, @1andthesame, @jesfreedark, @allthe-ships, @snow40285, @bibli0thecary, @psychedelic-ink,

so many aren’t working and idk why.

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar #pedro pascal x reader

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mossmurdock · 9 months

Text

TWO IS NEVER A CROWD

✿ ao3 ✿

prince!gojo/stable hand!reader

summary: Prince Gojo, soon to be crowned King, spends his evening in the soft comfort of the stables to visit his favorite stable hand. Though he has fleetingly escaped his royal duties, he's once again forced to face his true feelings and urges when with you.

tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Reader is a Stable Hand, Complicated Relationships, Idiots in Love, Gojo Satoru is Bad at Feelings, but so is the reader, even though they seem like they aren't, touch as a love language

notes: thank you so much for reading! this was something that wormed its way into my head and i couldnt rest until it was typed out lmao, i had lots of fun with it.

You hand Satoru moments of silence when no one else can. Most would think a prince like him was never the sort to search for this type of thing. Silence was something unknown to his crowds unless he called for it with the wave of his hand; he kept other princes, councils, and even kings on their toes during any sort of royal congregation with his wit, knowledge, and ill placed taunts. In a crowd with Gojo Satoru, there is never silence.

But you are far from a crowd.

The silence you grant him is nothing like the charged energy of a hushed room, it’s full, almost suffocating, and yet comfortable enough to not smother him. In the quiet of it all, the two of you exchange quick looks, touches, and grins.

There’s this aura around the stables you work in that engulfs Satoru each time he steps into them, like every single thought he’s had is one of your own. You never hide that you hang onto his words and absorb his ideas. After one of his very long talks you will hum after finishing one of your tasks—that he did not lift a finger to aid in—and will tell him something about your own day in return: that one of the horses has unfortunately fallen ill, that another nearly kicked you during grooming, or that your mother has thankfully gathered enough money to retire from working because you’re finally healthy enough to work consistently.

This, to most, might seem like an odd exchange between royalty and non-royalty, but Satoru doesn’t think he could handle asking for more without making a fool of himself. He’s content with tucking your days away into his sleeve and carrying them with him when the two of you are apart.

When he walks toward the stables, the sweltering heat of the evening hits him all at once. He isn’t surprised to see you still hard at work with tending. He would be lying if he said the shine of the sun and sweat on your skin wasn’t something he caught himself lingering on every now and then. Each look feels a little more scandalous than the last.

He’s made up for the sin with another by never stopping himself from wiping hay off your shoulders or cheek. The collected look on your face falls each time he does, and your nose flares when you move to step away, like he’s forced you to catch your breath. It’s the only form of teasing that seems to get to you, and Satoru has no trouble indulging in it.

You’re cleaning the water troughs as your last task of the day, hardly noticing Satoru sneaking by as you drain the old water into the ground. He quickly pokes at both your sides so that you turn to him with a jolt, the tank falling harshly and jostling as you stumble into him. You look up at him in brief shock before gently pushing him away with a huff, the rough glove on your hand brushes the ruffles of his white shirt and he desperately wishes the touch had been skin instead.

He’s seen your bare hands briefly in times between your work, a little rough, a little calloused, they would fit perfectly in his.

“You startled me, Prince Gojo.” Your voice still sounds slightly strained from lifting the heavy metal, that or Satoru really did frighten you.

He pouts at the title instead of apologizing. “How long have we known each other?”

“A year and two months, my King.” This time, you laugh smugly to yourself as Satoru’s pout grows into a genuine scowl at the thought of his future title.

“Who told you?” he asks, back to his dramatic sulking. “I was hoping to be the first to break the news to you, you know.”

You sneak a look at him while picking up a brush off the ground, the old bristles are tinted green from past cleanings, a well loved thing you’ve mentioned wanting to replace for some time now. “I heard it from another stable hand.” You look to him, searching for something. “Are you disappointed you were chosen?”

Satoru shrugs nonchalantly while rolling his eyes. The both of you knew he would be the first to be picked by the elder councils, all the meandering these years were theatrics and faux fairness. And “disappointed” just doesn’t seem like the right word.

“It’s ok to not want it, Satoru.” You drop the brush into the tank along with your gloves with a thud. Fatigue looks different on you than it usually does on Satoru. It’s more physical, he could hold it in his hands and maybe mold it into something a little better. The notion is a comfort to him. If you were to ever fall again like you had years ago—from overwork, illness, or some sort of accident—Satoru counts on himself to be there for you. His jaw aches at the image of you so young, already so overburdened, and with only your working mother to take care of you.

“I expected you to be a lot quicker in getting rid of me,” he jokes. “Shouldn’t you be glad?”

You don’t laugh at his attempt. The sound of his own voice has never felt more deafening to himself.

The look you give him is unreadable, yet honest enough to make him look away. The silence that falls is like a heavy blanket. Satoru for once feels like he’s being smothered by your intolerance, a sign that he’s gone too far in his purposeful misjudgment of you. He may not be able to read you, but your anger is brimming. He doesn’t like that you’re forcing him to feel the unfairness he tries to avoid.

“How about running away?” Despite all odds, Satoru tries humor again.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it. We could take one of the horses off into the sunset and never look back.” You almost sound serious, Satoru has to look away from your face again. Too bright with your work, too sincere, everything Satoru thinks he may never grow used to.

“Would—” Embarrassingly, his voice comes out too softly at first. “I would like to ride with you one day.”

“Is that right?” You aren’t afraid of softening your voice for the both of you.

“Of course,” he smiles. “I’d love to give you a few pointers. From mentor to pupil, obviously.”

You laugh and he does too; and you’re close. The space between the two of you is small, silent, beautifully private. Your hand, gloveless, brushes against his cheek in a passing moment. The fond feeling of your thumb under his eye makes the air in his chest halt and crash into itself. He’s sure you hear his laugh turn weak and airy.

When you step-back it almost looks like you’ve caught yourself, not out of embarrassment, but out of something Satoru can’t place. You rub the same hand against your face to wipe grime away, but Satoru is sure you’re hiding a rising blush. He almost makes a move to point it out, but the tease falls flat on his tongue once he notices the own heat of his neck dangerously crawling its way up to his ears.

“Would your highness do me the honor of keeping me company?” you ask. Voice level, unbearably accustomed. For some odd reason, Satoru swears he hears a twinge of caution.

Satoru bows his head in compliance while gracefully holding out his hand for you to take. He feels your smile before he even sees it, but when he raises his eyes the warm look on your face makes the world go quiet all the same.

#moss writes #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #this is the lightest thing ive written in a while and i really think it did me some good :')#ch: gojo satoru

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here-to-read-and-write · 1 year

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The hobbit x reader

Bilbo x child reader

Bilbo bagging was known as a play boy in the shire, not just to hobbit lads and lasses.

So when it comes to the dwarfs and Gandalf arrive to Rivendell, they are surprised by Elrond knowing his name, but only meeting him for the fist time in person?

Imagine even more to there suppries to a Gorgon (snake hair) child running to Bilbo yelling father!

Bilbos daughter has been studying with lord Elrond for a year.

Bonus if you put (y/n) asks if Thorin is your new mommy, que the dwarfs laughing.

Thorin x Bilbo

father!Bilbo x child!reader

You didn't precise the gender of the child so I used They \ them. (gn! reader).

waning: My bad writing, this is my first request so I hope you like it.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. The name of the Hobbit was Bilbo Baggins.

Bilbo Baggins was a very known hobbit beyond the Shine. He used to be a "playboy" in his "youth", as he liked to call it, but now he had stopped after that God offered him one of the most magnificent gifts in all his life.

Now he was offered a second gift, but this time he was relucted in taking it, but he eventually come around as he saw a small possibility of seeing his baby, his child.

As you may have guessed, Bilbo's first gift was for a child. A child not like the others. They were everything to him, the only person who brought out the best of him.

He could remember every detail about them, every first thing, their first step, their first word, he was there to see it. Unfortunately, he may not watch them grow, as The ugly orc hunted them down, and even with the brown wizard driving them away, they still got caught, forcing them to fight.

"Where are you leading us?" Thorin asked his eyes burning with anger, yet the grey wizard didn't respond, he just turned to him with a scowl planted on his face before he continue moving, and as much as Thorin wanted to argue with the Gandalf, he knew they didn't have time, either they follow him or they die.

They fought their way or rather the Drwaf did, to a cave where they followed a mysterious path, Leading them to a beautiful place, full of immense buildings connected to each other, and everything about it screamed majestically. It was nothing compared to what Bilbo had seen in his life.

"Valley of Imladris, in the common time, it's known but another name" Gandalf exclaimed his face full of joy at the familiar place.

"Rivendell" Bilbo continued for the grey wizard. He felt a sense of relief and happiness for different reasons from Gandalf. He couldn't believe he was standing a few feet away from the place, where…

"Here lies the last and only house of east of the sea" Gandalf interrupted Bilbo's thoughts, explaining to everyone (Biblo) the brief history of the place.

"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy" thorin spitted, his face showing every little bit of hate he had towards the Elvens.

"You have no enemies here Thorin Ocanshild" Gandalf's face turned to a scroll again at Thron, who he felt disappointed for letting his hate cloud his mind.

"the only ill will to fear in this valley is what you bring yourself" Gandalf continued eying the young prince in front of him. While Bilbo stood there, on Gandalf's side, his hand moving in the air. He couldn't help the smile that grow on his face, and he shyly tilted his head in an attempt to hide it until it disappear, yet it never did, not when they walked to the entrance, not even when the Lord addressed him, with knowing eyes.

"Mrs Baggins" Loard unacknowledged the Hobbit's presence, who just nodded his head. Which resulted in suspicious looks sent his way, especially from the grey wizard, who was more than sure that the two never meet.

"I didn't know you were an acquaintance of mister Baggins, Lord Elrond" Gandalf questioned, raising an eyebrow, giving Baggins a quick glance over his shoulder. The Lord only smiled in response.

They all enter and Bilbo didn't even notice, his eyes were busy searching for something or someone. He was absent-minded, that he didn't even notice the grumpy Drawf, passing the map to Lord Elrond, who gave it one look before ordering his man to bring his apprentice, and before Thorin could protest, Gandalf shut him out with a stern look.

"Papa!" Their head snapped toward the voice, to see a child, not like the other. A few feet away was a child running toward them, before throwing themselves on the hobbit who catch them quickly like a reflection.

"(Y/N)" He lifted you up, smiling with watery eyes at your happy expression that he longed for.

Oh, how much did he miss you.

"Who is that?" One of the dwarfs asked, cutting the small father-child reunion.

"This is my child, (Y/N)" Bilbo pointed at the child beside him, who smiled at the company before saluting them in the Eleven way.

"Greetings to Thorin II "Oakenshield son of Thráin II, king under the mountain and his company. I'm (Y/N) daughter of Bilbo Baggins, apprentice of Lord Elnord " You stood high earning a proud look out from Lord Elrond.

"Wait you have a child!!!" the dwarves' jaws dropped, except Thorin whose brain was connecting the dots. He understood now, why Bilbo Baggins' eyes lit up, why he was so eager to enter the palace, and why the Elef seem to know he was.

Biblo turns away hiding from the company glares. How dare he not tell us, that's what they all were thinking about, while you just stood there smiling so brightly like the sun, they had to close their eyes.

"But you look so much different than each other?" Kili voiced thorin question, which earned him a deep blush of embarrassment from Bilbo not like they could see it.

You look at your father, noticing the red on the tip of his ears making you giggle. You knew your father so you decided to explain.

"My father used to be..what was the name.." Your eyes turn to the right side "Ah…a playboy…My father used to be a playboy, he was known as beyond the shire, in all the lads and lasses." The dwarfs again turn to the shy Hobbit as he hides his face this time with his hands, as he remembers something.

"I'm Gorgon(child with snake hair) just like a mother" You elucidated when you notice the looks of disbelief in their eyes.

"That explains a lot" They nodded to each other, before turning back to Bilbo.

The hurt on Thorin was evident, and you notice it, as he glared at your father. Like he was ready to kill him. At first, it scared you until you notice the jealousy, and that is when it hit you. Thorin was in love with your father, and think that he's married. but does your father reciprocate this feeling?

Yes, he does! He was giving an apologetic smile to Thorin, who scoffed, and you saw an opportunity so you took it.

You tugged your father's sleeve before asking "Is he, my new mama?" You turn to Thorin when your father just kept looking at you with wide eyes "Are you my new mama?" Thorin'eyes almost popped out of his skull. He starts stuttering before he turned to the laughing dwarf with a glare that could shut up anyone, but they couldn't stop.

It was too hilarious, seeing flustered Thorin. Rare sight!

"(Y/N)!" Bilbo run to your side, "What?" you blinked innocently, "You luve him, he luves you and you are my pap so he is my new mama" You explained in a matter-of-fact tone, just causing the dwarves to laugh more and more, some were even on the floor, crying!

Even Lord Elnord and Gandalf were laughing, their heart out at the two flustered males.

#thorin x bilbo #father bilbo x child reader #xreader #xchild reader #The hobbit x reader #company x reader #request #first request #Dwarf #x child female reader #x child male reader

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echo-echo31 · 6 months

Text

Egos + Fireworks | Headcanons

A/N: It's Bonfire Night here in the UK so we're celebrating.

Warnings: Brief implication of PTSD

DARK 🖤

Unimpressed™

"I am an eldrich entity of powers beyond your comprehension, my love. These human sparkles are nothing but echoes of the fires you crave to keep you warm in the dark. I am the dark,"

He's very dramatic and you just roll your eyes whilst he monologues.

ACTOR 🌹

Of course he needs to organise the biggest and best fireworks show around, from his own Manor.

In fact, you're a little nervous that you're about to cause a fire hazard, so you watch with a look of concern throughout most of it.

That is until there's one firework in the shape of a red rose - followed by your name in silver. That's when Marc puts his arm around you, and your blush is lit up with every flash.

YANCY 🎵

He remembers sitting on the fire-escape on the 4th July, watching the fireworks in the city.

It's been so long, and the thought of loud bangs that he can't differentiate from gunshots makes him a little anxious.

Still, you leave your little flat in the evening, holding hands as you go to the highest place you can in order to see what this new city has to offer.

There's so much colour and Yancy is mesmerised. You spend the entire evening looking at the wonder and joy on his face.

GOOGLE 🖱️

"This is an entirely inefficient way to use such energy, I do not understand the appeal,"

He tries to explain his argument to you for a while, so you don't think fireworks are going to be on the agenda any time soon.

That's why you're surprised when he takes you by the hand, a look of utter excitement on his face, and leads you to the back yard.

You're utterly mesmerised. In the sky are about 30 shining lights, forming different patterns and animals and images silently but beautifully.

You realise that Google's got about 30 drones, controlling them all through his own systems.

"I see the appeal now, Y/N,"

BING 🔶

Tries to light a massive Fuck Off rocket in your back yard.

You have to stop him - explaining why that's a bad idea - before giving him a hand-held sparkler.

The sight of him pouting whilst the tiny thing spits and sparkles has been memorialised on social media.

ILLINOIS 🔥

He's not often in one place long enough to celebrate any occasions that would require fireworks.

Still, he's listened to your stories. The ones from when you were a child and used to watch the fireworks with glee and wonder.

The fact that he arranges for you to be exploring a cave system just a few miles out from a major city with a famous fireworks display that night is a complete coincidence.

The way he kisses you under the stars and light is entirely deliberate.

HEIST 💣

He sneaks you into a VIP event at a local art gallery just to see the display.

The polite applause from the upper class crowd is disturbed by your deliberately dramatic shouting and whistling.

When you're asked to leave you can't stop laughing, even as he puts his tuxedo jacket around you and calls a cab.

ENGIE 🚀

It's hard to deny that the sight of towering nebulas and exploding supernovas can't really compete with the fireworks from Earth.

Still, it's an old tradition. So when you finish the construction of the 1st Generation Base for the new colony, the crew react as happily to the display as to any beauty in the universe.

"We did it, Captain,"

You look at Mark, face illuminated by flashes of colour on a brand new world.

"We did it,"

NOIR 🔎

It's hard to appreciate a display based on lights when the entire world is in black and white.

You hear his monologuing complain about the ridiculousness of the entire thing - as well as how much it reminds him of his ex-wife leaning him on New Year's Eve.

You tell him to cheer up otherwise you'll lock him in the cells for the night.

MURDOCK 🔪

He says he'd rather be making you see fireworks than standing in the forest seeing the worms from the city try to light up the sky.

Still, he's with you, holding your hand in his as you stand outside your cabin.

It's worth it to see your reaction. He spends the entire time looking at you.

PORNIPLIER 💘

"Baby, I am the display,"

He tries to distract you with one of his routines to see if he can be prettier than the fireworks.

It works.

#echo writes #headcanons #sfw sunday #echo is sfw

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zoeykallus · 2 years

Note

If you're taking headcanon/fic requests how do you think the bad batch boys would react to their SO having an unusual fear? I am absolutely terrified of butterflies and moths 👉👈 so scared of those flappy monsters it gets so difficult to breath I can't speak much. Would they protect me? :c

Oh sweetheart, I get it, I don't have a problem with butterflies, but I really don't like moths.... and spiders... and people ;p I think a lot of us out there have fears that others would consider unusual or strange. I for one have Claustrophobia (fear of narrow spaces), Thalassophobia (fear of deep, dark waters) and Agoraphobia (Fear of crowded places/ many people). Let's see what the batch has to say about your Phobia :)

The Bad Batch x Reader - Lepidopteraphobia

Hunter

Hunter is a nature boy, he likes to be with you in nature, camping, swimming in the lake, picnics, you spend a lot of your free time together in the wild. The one or other encounter with certain creatures can' t be avoided.

On one of your picnics, Hunter has chosen a nice spot, close to a river surrounded by flowering plants. He's relaxed and so are you, you're laughing, goofing around and snacking on your favorite snacks when suddenly you notice a butterfly flying towards you.

Your first reaction surprises Hunter at first, of course. You jump up, waving your arms, and it's clear that you're disgusted and downright panicked. Hunter stands up and carefully shoos the butterfly away, not wanting to kill it, seeing no need for it.

"What's the matter with you? That was just a butterfly."

You wrinkle your nose, "Flying worms, disgusting. I don't know why, everyone seems to think those things are great but they scare me"

Hunter blinks, at first he's taken aback but he's certainly not judging you. He smiles and says understandingly "Okay, so no more picnics among flowers".

He starts packing up the snacks and rolls up the blanket you were sitting on.

"Wait" you say "I didn't mean to spoil the mood".

"You didn't at all" Hunter assures you "We'll go further down to the shore, away from the grass and flowers, we'll spread the blanket out on the sandy shore"

You take a breath and smile gratefully.

"You're the best"

He beams at you, gently kisses your cheek and grabs the box of snacks and the blanket.

"Come on Mesh'la"

Echo

You have landed in the middle of nowhere, more or less. Of necessity, because Tech has to make one or two repairs without which you can't make the next Hyper Jump.

Echo accompanies you outside into the fresh air, you both want to enjoy at least a brief moment of peace and breathe the wonderful air, you've been traveling in the Marauder for so long.

It's beautiful, it's warm, the sun shines through the treetops and conjures golden rays in the nature around you. But the beautiful picture that surrounds you is clouded when you realize that there is not only one but several butterflies fluttering around.

Echo sees your panicked look even before the rest of your body reacts to the "threat" and looks around straining to see a predator, bared teeth, sharp claws, something like that. He already has his hand on the blaster and is ready to stand in front of you when you panic and jump to the side because a butterfly is flying towards you.

Admittedly he is confused and stands there for two or three seconds as if thunderstruck, watching you jump around in panic. But finally he reacts and carefully scares the butterflies away. He leads you to the Marauder's ramp and asks you to sit down. You are sweaty and he gently wipes your brow with a clean handkerchief.

"Are you okay? Take a breath first."

Of course he doesn't judge, why should he, there is absolutely no reason to from his point of view. It may have been a surprise for him, but he doesn't think it's a bad thing.

With a sigh, you ask him, "Is it okay if we wait inside for our journey to continue?"

Echo smiles and gently wraps an arm around your waist as you stand up.

"Of course, come here sweetie, we can wait wherever you want".

Wrecker

He watches you confused as you zigzag away from a butterfly. He sees no enemy or anything that would explain to him what is going on with you. Wrecker grabs you and lifts you up, looking down, maybe there was something on the ground he had overlooked. But there is nothing.

Still, you wriggle in his grip.

"Wrecker put me down! This critter is chasing me!"

"What critter?!" he asks agitatedly, ready for a fight, and drops you back to your feet, swinging yet cautious.

He finally looks at what you're pointing at and pauses.

"Is that a particularly dangerous kind of butterfly? Are they poisonous?"

You hide behind his muscular form.

"I don't know! Are there any poisonous butterflies?"

Wrecker gets nervous.

"I don't know, but I don't plan on finding out the hard way!"

He throws you over his shoulder and makes his escape, with you safely on his shoulder.

It doesn't matter what you're afraid of, Wrecker is always ready to protect you. He's always ready to keep you safe. He is even willing to put himself in your shoes and understand what is bothering or scaring you. Even if he doesn't always succeed in understanding exactly what scares you, he never questions your feelings.

Tech

You are on an expedition. Tech likes to travel with you, especially on these expeditions where he can explore with you and share and expand his knowledge.

You are examining the blossoms of a particularly colorful bush that neither of you had seen before. Tech bends a branch to the side and among the dense leaves and blossoms, a colorful butterfly flutters out.

You jump back, take cover, flail around, and dodge the butterfly as if it were a swarm of Yavin hornets.

Tech remains calm, quickly analyzes the situation and realizes that there is no real danger, but he sees that you feel differently. He helps you scare the butterfly away and gives you time to catch your breath and calm down.

Tech knows many different phobias, has read about quite a few, including the one that plagues you.

"Lepidopteraphobia."

You look at him, not really surprised that he knows the technical term.

He smiles at you and says, "Alright, maybe we'll get you some protection. Possibly a hat with a net, like beekeepers wear."

He would like to find ways to take away your fear as best he can and make the situation easier. He does this out of affection, of course, but also to some extent out of selfishness. He would really only very, very unwillingly do without his dearest expedition partner.

Crosshair

He's cocking an eyebrow at you.

There is obviously no direct threat and he doesn't really know where to classify your behavior in the first moment. One thing is clear, you seem to be afraid, even if he really doesn't understand why this little fluttering creature can scare someone.

Finally, he takes pity on you and scares the butterfly away. Crosshair looks at you with a mocking little smile on his lips. He tries not to be mean, even though the situation is practically an opportunity for him. He loves to mock. He doesn't do it out of spite, it's just his way of getting your attention.

Surprisingly, he holds back. He understands that some fears are different, and he understands that you wouldn't necessarily appreciate joking about them.

Crosshair doesn't really say anything about it, he doesn't really see the need. He understands and makes a mental note of the incident. From now on, whenever a butterfly comes near you, you can count on him to scare it away. You don't have to ask or prompt him.

Echo talks to him once about scaring away butterflies. Instead of telling you off, he says, "Flying worms. Annoy me, plus they're disgusting".

Echo raises his brows in surprise and you smile devotionally at Crosshair.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@urfriendlyneighbornightfury

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delicatestones · 10 months

Text

Seeing more "Victoria's Hot Takes" sliding across my dash reminds me of my favourite part of Victoria's point of view, which is:

Victoria: So let me tell you all about X.

Victoria: [makes up the most wrong possible version of an event she wasn't at featuring people she doesn't know] And that's exactly how it went down.

In the early parts of Ward I genuinely thought it was an interesting narrative skew like Taylor's constant rationalizing and hypervigilance was in Worm. Victoria leaping with both feet to the worst conclusion about things all the time felt like a reflection of the way she'd stewed in unspeakable mental and physical distress for years that fundamentally destroyed her ability to fully trust her own judgment. Choosing to believe the worst, most paranoid interpretation of everything makes coherent sense as a trauma-based hedging response. If Victoria always thinks that way, no one can ever let her down like Amy and the rest of her family did ever again.

Unfortunately it turned out we were supposed to understand Victoria as being Basically Correct about everything but there was a brief shining moment where it was pretty entertaining and promised to tie into a coherent thematic journey.

#ward spoilers #parahumans

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i-was-bored-so-this-happened · 2 months

Text

Greensleeves Chapter One: Who Are You

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Warnings: Brief description of injuries/burns. Brain worms. Wordcount: 3.9k

Xaph has come crashing to earth with a mind flayer tadpole embedded in her skull. She must find allies, forge friendships and brave the wilds to find a cure for the parasite, a journey which will prove even more perilous than initially expected

Read on AO3 Next Chapter

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Sand. Sand is a familiar element. Xaph pushes her hands deep into the stuff and finds that it is not sand at all. It doesn’t grit under her nails or scrape at the grazes that litter her skin. It is soft and leaves black marks on her hands. Ash. Ash, too, she knows. The sand doesn’t begin until she has dug four inches into the ground. She nicks her finger on the blade of her axe buried in the sand and pulls it out. Wipes the charcoal from the engraved handle. The straps of her pack are easily found, her arms threaded through to take the weight on her back. The axe slotted through the loop she’d attached to the side. Only then, when she stands, does she realise she is entirely uninjured. From the fall, that is. Her finger bleeds freely, drops falling into the ash and further muddying its colour, her cheek burns from an errant firebolt and is further irritated by the acidic liquid that seemed to flow through the entirety of the mind flayer nautiloid, but the fall from the ship that should have killed her…well, didn’t. Gingerly testing her limbs, she finds nothing broken or even sprained. Following the curve of her horns and her tail, she finds no ache in her head or at the base of her spine.

The mind flayer nautiloid. It lies before her like a squid, tentacles bobbing in the water that waves behind her. Water she would have drowned in had she landed a few feet further…Xaph looks up, disoriented and not sure where North is. The ship is so huge it may as well block out the sun. The sun. She’s been without it for far too long, unable to remember a time she’d passed more than a week without feeling its warmth. It shines down on bodies. Maybe a dozen in her eyeline. Not people taken by the mind flayers, but fishermen making for their boats, family members visiting the beach. Wait, no, there, the flash of armour, the shine of onyx. It’s said when Shar walks upon the earth, she leaves a path of onyx behind her. She had been surprisingly coherent in her pod, screaming for help the moment she saw Xaph. The githyanki had been against it, but Xaph had never been able to pass by a creature in need of help. The githyanki is nowhere to be seen, notably. This woman, chained hair trapped under her body, is unconscious rather than dead. A good sign. She’s humanoid, the slight point to her ears suggesting elven lineage. Her face is perfectly framed by the hair that is not restrained, a blocky fringe and curtain-like sweeps of the stuff before her ears. A thin scar curves across her nose and under one eye. Xaph rolls her onto her side and adjusts her arms to make sure she can breathe as easily as possible. The armour probably isn’t helping her, but Xaph isn’t going to chance taking it off. She’s broken her nose that way before.

Something falls from the woman’s hand as Xaph moves her. Not a ball, it’s too angular for that word, but she doesn’t have a word for a shape with this many facets. Each flat plane is filled with runes, and each corner is pointed. When Xaph reaches out to pick it up, it’s warm and jittery. Full of magic, sharp and red in her mind’s eye, of a nature and strength she’s never encountered. As she turns her hand to see the other side, it turns in tandem to show her the same rune as before. A groan from the body she’s still hovering over reminds her of what she’s actually doing.

“Shadowheart?” By good fortune, they had exchanged names on the nautiloid. The githyanki had not been so forthcoming. Xaph says the woman’s name again. A familiar word can be enough to guard against unfamiliar surroundings. At a second thought, she drops the strange trinket in the sand. Shadowheart had made a point of going back to her pod to get it and yet refused to speak about it. Best not to look like she’s trying to steal it. Shadowheart is quick to rise, indicating that neither her legs nor her balance are impaired. Without breaking eye contact she finds the strange, sharp box and tucks it behind her back where a pouch must sit.

“You’re alive. I’m alive,” looking at the wreck of the ship, the disbelief is reasonable, “How is this possible?”

“I was hoping you might know that.” Xaph replies. Shadowheart seems to be the only other person alive in their immediate surroundings. The air is thick with the smell of charred meat.

“I remember the ship. I remember falling…then nothing.”

“You don’t happen to know where we are, do you?”

“No…I don’t recognise this place. But anything’s an improvement to where we just came from,” Xaph grunts an agreement, “First things first, we need supplies, shelter, and most of all, a healer. We might have escaped but we still have these little monsters in our heads.” Xaph hadn’t forgotten the worm, how could she, but it had waited until it was mentioned before doing anything. At Shadowheart’s reference to it, Xaph feels it squirming at the base of her skull. The hair on her arms stands to attention, and judging by Shadowheart’s grimace she’s experiencing a similar sensation.

“What happened to our gith friend?” Xaph asks. In her scan of the beach, she’s seen no sign of her. Had she fallen into the water? Had she woken before them and left them behind? Shadowheart seems to lean towards the latter,

“You might want to reconsider calling her a friend. Looks like she ran off without us.”

“But you want to travel with me?”

“We need each other, and we know what’s at stake. I can’t think of better company.” Shadowheart shrugs, and she does have a point. Allies are useful in most situations, and this is a stickier situation than most.

“Alright then, let’s go. I’ll need to get to higher ground before I can get us oriented, our shadows aren’t long enough.”

“One thing, just before we go. I wanted to thank you again for freeing me. It would have been all too easy for you to run right past my pod, but you didn’t. I’ll remember that,” she reaches out, gently as though to give Xaph time to move back, and her hand sits in the space by Xaph’s burned cheek, “Te curo,” The itch from the caustic liquid dissolves, the feeling like bubbles bursting across her cheekbone. The skin of her cut finger knits back together. Xaph gives her thanks. Shadowheart flaps her hand irritably in the air, and Xaph takes that to mean she’s uncomfortable with the gratitude. Shadowheart steps to the side, clearing Xaph’s path, “Lead the way.”

Perhaps the strangest sensation of all is that of dryness. Everything on the nautiloid had been wet or sticky, her body coated in sleep-sweat that never dried. Now, though covered in sand, Xaph’s skin is drying in the breeze that carries the smell of burning flesh. She and her new partner scrounge as best they can without disturbing the dead too much. The bottles of water they find are invaluable. The homebound book of shanties and whalebone flute less so. Xaph opts to leave the latter on its owner’s chest, but she takes his fishing rod. With the sickle in her pack, she severs some belladonna blooms from their stems. Shadowheart frowns when Xaph shears some mergrass and starts to chew on the stalks. She refuses what Xaph offers, but the tiefling isn’t about to risk going hungry. At one end of the beach, there’s the wall of a stone building, a wooden door teasing shelter. The door is locked, and though Shadowheart bangs on the wood for fifteen minutes or more with her mace, it doesn’t buckle and no one comes to open it. This door had been one of two ways to get off the beach. Both Shadowheart and Xaph’s heads turn to the other. A collapsed chamber of the nautiloid, crawling with self-sufficient brains that have wicked claws and whipping, nervy tendrils. They inch towards it, keeping close to the rocks.

“More of those things.” Shadowheart curses.

“Surprisingly durable, for unprotected brains.” Xaph muses.

“Can they see?”

“They don’t seem to have any visible eyes,” Xaph replies, crouching and then falling forward to put her weight on her hands to crawl forward. With a metallic clanking, Shadowheart squats behind her, “More likely they rely on sound,” they watch as one brain scrambles towards another who has found a body and is gleefully shredding it, “Telepathic communication is also very firmly on the table with a nice bone broth,” a soft thunk suggests that Shadowheart has hit her head on the handle of her own mace, “Happen to have any arrows?” Xaph whispers. She only has three left, and to throw her handaxe would leave her without a weapon. Sickles aren’t exactly known for their efficiency in a fight.

“No.” Shadowheart mumbles against the wood of her mace. Xaph takes a moment to unstring her bow to relieve it of its tension, then runs her hand over the nearby sand, looking for a stone.

“I want to hit that,” she whispers, pointing at an angular purple thing that looks somewhat like a flower bud, “They hold that acidic stuff. Flammable, but I can’t…” Xaph is drained of what little magical energy she has, having been away from soil and greenery for too long.

“I can,” Shadowheart says, “If you can handle him.” One brain is separate from the rest, scuttling towards the rock they’re hiding behind. Xaph pulls her axe from the strap of her pack.

“Do it.” Xaph nods. Shadowheart pulls herself into a standing position, lifting one foot onto the rock to steady herself.

“Ignis!” The word trips from her lips with vitriol, a fist-sized ball of fire forming between her fingers at the first syllable and being thrown with great force at the second. It lands at the base of the purple bud, and the few moments the brains take to process and try to locate their attackers are all the time it takes for the flames to reach the delicate membrane of the thing. It explodes, as Xaph had said, and purple liquid bursts across the chamber. Taking advantage of the nearest brain’s surprise, Xaph sidesteps past Shadowheart and buries her axe in the seam between the two halves of the brain. It takes a second blow before it stops writhing. The brains caught in the acid do their best to escape, but when the purple stuff ignites at the touch of a second fire bolt, they don’t have much of a chance.

“What are they?” Shadowheart asks as they pick their way through the chamber, avoiding brains and acid and flame alike. Xaph has to admit that she doesn’t know.

***

Trusting. Far too trusting, that’s what she is. She should have come to this conclusion before, perhaps before the elf had tackled her. He’s pinned Xaph to the ground in a way that suggests extensive experience in ambushing - on the ground beside her rather than sitting on top of her, he’s holding both of her feet down with his own and grasped a hank of hair in the hand not holding the dagger to limit her range of motion further. Both of Xaph’s hands are rather occupied, braced against the arm intent on pushing a blade into her throat. An elf. The world is full of them. This one looks…off, though. Different. White hair. Red eyes. Xaph’s seen creatures with similar pigmentation before - rabbits, worgs, other humanoids too. He shushes her when she bares her teeth and hisses at him, her tail thrashing under her body,

“Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours,” his words drip rather than flow, clearly enunciated. He throws a dirty look at Shadowheart, who has readied a hand by her mace, “And you, keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

“I need her alive. Stow your blade or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.” Shadowheart warns.

“Promises, promises,” he’s entirely too comfortable looking away from Shadowheart to return his attention to Xaph, “But I have other business, I’m afraid. Now. I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” the grip on her hair loosens, just a little, “Nod.”

Xaph does more than nod. She jerks her head forward to connect with his, the rock-hard base of her horns making a very satisfying knock against his forehead. The headbutt is a surprise to him, giving Xaph the split-second she needs to push him away and roll towards Shadowheart, coming up on her knees with her axe in hand. The pale elf rises to his feet, swearing at the fact that he’s lost his advantage. The parasite pushes forward, almost into her eye socket. Xaph’s head reels, as though she’s been decapitated and her brain is rolling around in front of her. The elf makes another surprised noise and presses his hand to his head, but not because of Xaph’s attack. The worms are bonding, as Xaph’s had with Shadowheart, with the gith. She is seeing through this man’s eyes. A city at night, streets still flush with people. So many people. She can smell them.

“What was that? What’s going on?” Xaph closes her eyes as the elf asks the questions, squeezing her eyelids shut as though she can push the parasite to the back of her mind if she puts in enough effort.

“It’s the mind flayers’ worm. It connected us.” Xaph tries to hold her own memories firm in her mind as she opens her eyes. The elf is not holding his knife with the same conviction as before.

“You’re not one of them. They took you, just the same as me,” there’s a brief moment where his gaze sinks to the still-sandy soil, considering his next move, before a smile graces his features. A knee drops and consequently his hip pops to the side, “And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.”

“Accepted,” Xaph too rises to a standing position. The force of the mental connection had almost toppled her, “I might have done the same were the roles reversed.”

“Ah, a kindred spirit,” the words are warm, but he keeps his distance and neither Xaph nor Shadowheart move towards him, “My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

“Xaphania. They picked me up in the Sword Mountains.”

“What were you doing in orc territory?” Shadowheart asks, neglecting to introduce herself.

“It’s not just orcs that live there. I was looking for a frost giant tribe.”

“My, my, you have been busy,” Astarion remarks, reminding Xaph terribly of a rather regal cat she’d met once, “So, what do you know about these worms?”

“Left untreated, they’ll turn us into mind flayers. This is how they breed.” Xaph explains. Astarion repeats her first sentence to himself, and then breaks into laughter. It’s strange, but not an entirely unreasonable response under the circumstances. He mutters something to himself neither of the women hear properly and then says, “It hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert - someone who can control these things - there might still be time.” Xaph considers for a moment, then decides,

“You should come with us,” she offers, “Our odds are better together.” Astarion takes his own few seconds to digest this.

“You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know,” he gestures forward with far more pomp than Shadowheart had done earlier, “Alright, I accept. Lead on.”

Astarion and Shadowheart are surprisingly content with letting a tiefling take the lead. Xaph tries not to think on it too much. She avoids the mind flayer ship as much as possible, scrambling up rockfall to reach higher ground. Unfortunately, they aren’t without the trail of bodies for even an hour. At around the twenty-five minute mark, as far as Xaph can guess, they come across goblins. Dead goblins. Three of them. Shadowheart remarks that they might be worth checking for supplies, and when Xaph sees that one of them holds a bow in his stiffening hand she turns him over to get to the almost full quiver on his hip. Eighteen arrows of goblin-make, shorter than her own and a little rougher but just as sharp, takes her to twenty-one. Not quite a sheaf, but more than she’d left with the imps of Avernus. Optimistically, she takes the quiver as well as the arrows and shoves it in her pack, the leather belt not wide enough for her waist. Astarion finds ration packs with dried pork and ship biscuits. Shadowheart takes the pouch of the latter and pushes one into her mouth, leaving the other elf with the meat. They frown when Xaph pockets a bone she finds on one of the goblins, but they don’t say anything.

“They weren’t crushed by the ship,” Shadowheart points out, kneeling by one of the bodies, “They were sliced open,” she follows the line of a wound with her finger. “The gith, no doubt.”

“Yes, doubt,” Xaph counters, “There were hundreds of people on that nautiloid, we can’t be the only ones who survived.”

“We’re not going to pick up every stray we come across, are we?”

“If we can help them, we should. Shouldn’t leave them out here alone to become mind flayers.” Xaph argues. Shadowheart doesn’t have a response. Astarion has been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, not deigning to step in and express his opinion. A loud snap catches their attention, weapons drawn in an instant and knees bent in preparation to pounce. The snap evolves into crackling, and the scent of rosewater floats above the iron sting of blood. Someone nearby is trying to wrangle the Weave, and they’re losing. Xaph gravitates towards the smell and sound of magic. Astarion cracks a joke about strays.

They find a rune inscribed in a flat face of rock, bright purple and wildly unstable, warping the solid material around it. It churns into a black vortex that none of them can bear to look at for too long. The rune crackles with electricity and makes a sound not unlike a grindtsone, as though the rock beneath it has been reduced to pebbles that are being pushed together. Magic glitters and swirls from it erratically, as if malfunctioning. If Xaph is correct, this is some kind of waypoint. She’s never seen them, only heard tell. A crushingly difficult spell for teleportation. When she reaches out to it, a spark flies and buries itself in the tip of her finger, shocking her hand a bright violet. She jerks back from the portal when something tries to come through it - and then stops. A hand reaches from the centre of the vortex. A hand, forearm, elbow. Purple sleeve.

“A hand? Anyone?” A voice. Bewildered, Xaph stares at the hand. Shadowheart’s fingers weren’t particularly cared for and stained red with blood, and Astarion at least had some dirt under his fingernails he had been working on picking out, but this hand? Pristine. Soft, with no lines but the veins. This hand doesn’t know labour. It gestures at Xaph as though it knows she’s there, straining forward. They’re stuck, it takes her too long to realise, halfway between where they had been and where they are going. A decidedly grisly fate should their concentration slip. Xaph can almost hear Shadowheart’s frustration when she reaches towards the waypoint and clamps one hand around the disembodied elbow, the other around the wrist, letting her pointed fingernails dig into the soft fabric of the sleeve for a better grip. She pulls.

A fully grown man catapults from the portal, which twists away into nothing but shimmering purple light behind him, narrowly missing Xaph and landing hard on his knees. He manages to stand relatively quickly, though it isn’t clear if the pained noises he can’t quite stifle are because of the portal, the rough landing or sore bones. He’s human, rounded ears and creeping grey hairs at his temple fairly reliable indicators. A break from elves, at least. Something dangles from one ear, flashing in the sunlight. The symbol of Mystra.

“Hello. I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” he’s surprisingly jovial for a man who had been so close to death. As he states his title he shifts his weight to the balls of his feet and leans forward to seize Xaph’s hand. Her hand is limp in his, not expecting the contact, but he holds and shakes hands firmly. A warm pink against deep blue. She was right. It’s soft and unscarred, while Xaph’s fingertips are rough with bowstring calluses and the back of her hand lined with slight ridges. “Apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“At…introductions?” Xaph asks, a little confused.

“At magic. Say, but I know you, don’t I? In a manner of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well.”

“I was.”

“Then I can only assume you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region.” He prides himself on his vocabulary, this man, and he talks with his hands as much as with his words.

“I…couldn’t have phrased it more repellantly myself.”

“No use sugarcoating it, is there? The insertee we speak of, this parasite…are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers?”

“It’s their reproductive cycle. If you survive, you become one of them. If you don’t, you become one of those…brains on legs, I think.”

“An intellect devourer, yes. But the former? It is a process known as ceremorphosis, and let me assure you,” he raises a finger like he’s scolding a child, “It is to be avoided.” He pauses, then remembers his question, “You don’t happen to be a cleric, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” he mimes sewing.

“You seem to know enough about our condition to realise it is beyond most cleric’s skills.” Shadowheart says to him.

“Most, no doubt, but I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don’t happen to be one of them?” An optimist, then. Good. He might balance out the group a bit. On cue, Shadowheart snorts derisively. Xaph opens her pack though she knows it’s futile and brings out a handful of wilting greenery,

“I doubt dock leaves are going to cut it.”

“I think not,” Gale replies, though he smiles, “We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon, too. How about we lend each other a helping hand and look for a healer together?” he proposes. When Xaph looks to Shadowheart for approval, the cleric does little more than raise her eyebrows. Astarion doesn’t seem to be paying any attention at all.

“Sounds like a plan. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Excellent! A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that effect,” he seems glad of the company, though many wizards Xaph has known value their solitude above most other things. “Oh!” He’s remembered something else, “But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone.” Gale inclines his head in a small bow, without the theatrics Astarion had displayed. Xaph returns it. “It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favour.”

#FUCK IT WE BALL LETS SEE WHAT HAPPENS #rae's writing #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #rae's ocs #xaph [tav]#baldur's gate 3 oc #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 tav #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion #astarion ancunin #they're the only ones here rn dw wyll will be here soon

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lemonsoday · 5 months

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Hi guys so I made a fake cover for one of my oc stories. I'm just now realizing that it doesn't quite fit the vibes of this current excerpt but I promise it makes sense with more context 💀 I thought I'd post something to go along with it and so here's the prolog chapter!

Any feedback or comments are appreciated 🫶

PROLOG

Every star in the sky is that of an ancestor looking down from the land beyond mortals. The names of those still residing in the memories of generations to come are the names belonging to the brightest stars.

As time goes on and memories twist and turn through each person's account, the people behind those names slowly turn to ash, leaving behind hollow gods — mere figures in legends and prayers. A long time ago, one such star existed. The founder of the kingdom high upon the mountains, Hua Xinyang, shone with splendor never seen before in the northern sky. Never obscured by clouds, he was Yujun's symbol even long after his physical body had been devoured by dirt and worms. But he too, would disappear one day. When a dark void appeared in the spot where his star would have shone, Hua Xinyang, although still remaining in the hearts of his people, was truly pronounced dead.

Ever since then, the two other gods who watched over Yujun alongside him, were rarely ever seen again. They said that one secluded himself in his realm in the depths of The Abyss, while the other, crushed by grief, hid away in his garden and never dared to cross any form of life again. Even though their stars still existed in the night sky, their absence made it no different from the death the people of Yujun had experienced just moments before.

That was 500 years ago. Yujun has moved on from their grief and the kingdom has learned to live on without their Tri-Deity. Today, their names are only uttered in respect; for the small fragment of history that people are still able to remember. However, whatever happened before, in between, and after that brief moment in time was a mystery, one that would never reach their descendants because nobody who lived through it was around to tell those stories anymore.

But there was somebody who lived, unbeknownst to anyone besides himself and the gods who had disappeared long ago.

One day when the descendant of Hua Xinyang took in a boy from the south of Yujun, Xiang Yulan, who'd laid dormant in his Silk Pavilion for years, felt that something was out of place within the mortal world. After a distanced observation of the child, the link between them only became clearer. However, he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Bai Ming who'd disappeared from the eyes of all beings — living and dead — suddenly returned to check on this "disturbance." Something wasn't as it should be with Hua Beifang's boy, and as time went on, Bai Ming's suspicions, although believed to be illogical even by himself, seemed to be proven true. The child had memories of the past; the deities' past. He wasn't sure whose memories they were, but they were certainly more accurate than the myths being passed around as the trio's history in the current day.

As a god of the underworld, truth be told, Bai Ming was unnerved by the occurrence. The boy was an anomaly to the cycle of life and death. His duty should have lead to him killling the boy to restore all that is natural, but due to his own personal desire, he could not bring himself to do so.

By the time Hua Xinyang perished, he, Bai Ming, and Xiang Yulan each had their own skeletons in the closet. However, whatever the latter two were hiding was an open secret compared to the events that Hua Xinyang hid away, even from Xiang Yulan.

Despite the shining image of brotherhood that the people of Yujun saw Bai Ming and Hua Xinyang as, Bai Ming couldn't care less about the secrets that the founder had. For what it's worth, if they were to disappear just like their owner, he still would not have felt as if he'd lost something important. On the other side of that spectrum, there was Xiang Yulan. The death of the founder was a secret that he was hiding in itself, one that he was hiding from Xiang Yulan specifically. At least that's what the moon god believes. He didn't know why his companion would do that, but he knew that he must've been keeping something from him, something big, something... awful.

When the boy entered the picture, Xiang Yulan thought that he could be the key to the puzzle. So, he sought after him. He waited for the moment he'd be able to take him as his contract disciple. He always watched him, but never interfered. Without realizing it, he'd watched him grow up.

Bai Ming was aware of this. The revivification of the moon god was a surprise, but, at the start, it was a welcome one. He and Xiang Yulan's relationship had strained after the founder's death, so all he could do was look after him from afar. It was once he'd grasped the other god's true intentions that he finally stepped in. The moon god had no obligation to listen to him, as the death god had no obligation to stop him. But Bai Ming wanted something too, and he was willing to destroy whatever legacy they'd left behind as a trio in order to achieve it.

When the two couldn't reach an agreement, it was settled that from then on, the moon and the waters below were enemies. How people would remember them now was unimportant, because at that point, neither of them had anything to lose.

#my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip #original character #oc artwork #oc art #worldbuilding #I wish I had a last name to put on the cover

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sweetums0kitty · 2 years

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The Ties that Bind me to Thee.

Hello friends, this is my first ever fanfic! I was so graciously pushed into writing it by @finniestoncrane! Who has graciously listened to me rant and rave about the Riddler and my idea to give him a sister!

There were many sounds that Edward hated with his entire heart and soul. One of them being the sniveling cries of the corrupt pigs he had brought to Justice as they begged for his mercy. Another was the metallic sound of sliverwear scraping a plate. Finally, at the top of his list would be a recent addition; the groans combined with the various inaudible whines Eleanor was currently making as she sat across from him in the visitation cell.

“Whyyyyy Eddieeeee?? Whyyyyyy” she bemoaned smudging her already destroyed eye makeup into a look that more resembled a raccoon. “Why would you flood the city, what the FUCK is wrong with you?” Edward broke out of his musings to look back up at his sister. He noted she had clearly defined tear tracks and a dribble of snot running from her near identical nose.

He slowly blinked and finally responded: “I was cleaning up Gotham, shining a light on the lies and corruption that came with Renewal he said oddly calm. I thought you understood what I was doing.” Rolling his eyes and letting out a frustrated huff as he finished. “I did it for us, for the other souls and victims lost to the deception and filth of this CESSP- Eleanor slammed her manicured hand on the glass that separated her from Edward with enough force to rattle the pane momentarily, startling him out of his ravings.

“DO you know how many times you have delivered this SAME dumb rant to me?” She fumed as rage colored her rounded cheeks a deep shade of pink and she set him with a harsh glare.

“Five times” Edward said with a sneer. He wanted to push her buttons now, if she couldn’t see what he was doing was right then he wasn’t going to play along with her. “That’s my highest guess” he smirked.

“I FUCKING WISH IT WAS FIVE” she bellowed more tears spilling from her deep green eyes. He giggled, she glared.

They were silent for a while, her hunched over with her face in her hands sobbing ferociously and Edward sitting observing her tears and beginning to feel the niggling worms of self doubt and guilt creep into his soul. Not because he felt remorse for initiating the grand cleansing of Gotham, no it was more so the fact that his baby sister crying her eyes out always had a way of thawing his icy heart.

In the moment he hadn’t a clue what to say, Ellie was always better at emotions. She easily made connections and was a social butterfly. And now, here she was less a butterfly and more a crushed up moth.

Releasing a cough from his throat Eddie tried to get her attention, unheard over her wailings he tried again with more force, still ignored he exhaled harshly and decided to attempt to get her attention for the final time.

Releasing a hacking that was more like a shout Eleanor shot up her head up and glared at her brother once more with enough force to melt the polar ice caps.

Edward felt the words he was going to say in attempt to comfort his sister die in his throat as her stare burned him.

Suddenly, she rose from her chair and for a brief flash Edward was scared she’d abandon him then and there. His deep eyes began to fill with tears as he flushed red. He tried to push himself against the glass as far as his chains and collar would allow. “Ellie I’m sorry okay!” Edward screamed watching her form retreat from him as he began to panic. “She was going to abandon him, just like Batman had, just like Gotham abandoned them as children, the exact same way they were tossed aside by their parents. Panic settled deep into Edward’s chest.

“PLEASE ELLIE! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE!” He sobbed as the cuffs around his wrists dug painfully into his flesh. He didn’t care, panic had turned him into a wild animal. A barrage of self loathing washed over him as more tears flowed out his eyes.

Suddenly, she turned around looking so incredibly tired. “God, he looks so… broken” Eleanor crinkled her nose at the thought and once again placed herself back into the uncomfortable chair with a deep sigh. Edward made no moves to sit down as his heart slammed in panic and his breathing got harder and harder. “You’re having a panic attack you stupid fucking loser, you think for one second your sister is gonna abandon you and you break down like a goddamn worthless little baby.” His mind screamed at him.

In the midst of his spiraling panic, like a hot knife going through butter Eleanor called: “Eddie, hey I need you to look at me okay. She said in a gentle motherly tone. His mind whirled, he felt sick and still he slowly looked back into her identical eyes. “That’s it! Elenor beamed” and Edward felt the storm in him begin to subside. “Can you take a deep breathe in with me?” “Eddie shook his head, his lungs felt like they were full of molten lead and bits of jagged glass. “I need my inhaler, he croaked” “Okay! Okay, I can do that, it’s gonna be fine! You’re gonna be fine, it’s fine! It was then Eleanor’s turn to panic. She once again shot up and rushed around looking for a call button to help him. Finally finding one she pressed it with enough force to shatter the button.

After pressing it once she waited and waited. Edward let out a miserable string of wheezes “Slamming the button again Eleanor began to fume. “What the hell is taking them So LONG?” She crossed her arms over her chest and began to tap her foot impatiently. “Edward rasped “It’s a facility operated by the city” he coughed harder this time. She balled her hand into a fist and began to pound on the button.

“SLAM” “BUZZ” “SLAM” “BUZZ” “SLAM” “BUZZ” “SLAM” “BUZZZZZZZ” “SLAM” “BUZ-“ Finally a bored looking attendant and a giggly guard sauntered in. Their eyes were blown out and reddened clearly having just take a hit of Drops. “What do you want the attendant said raking his bloodshot eyes over Eleanor’s body. She shuddered, an almost invisible gesture to anyone except her brother. “Ed felt rage settle into his chest, dwarfed by his current asthma attack but still palpable. “Is the freak over there the guard lazily jammed his thumb over in Edwards vague direction giving you trouble?”

“”That freak”” Eleanor spat between gritted teeth trying desperately to maintain her composure “Is my brother and if you would like I dunno… “ she said twirling a curled bang around her long finger pulling the two oblivious Dropheads into her web. “Want to do your fucking jobs!” she screeched! Face Turing a bright crimson “And PUH-LEASE go get my brother his inhaler, he’s having a pretty nasty asthma attack and you know I would just love it if he didn’t choke to death on his own lungs! M’kay!” She tilted her head to the side and shot a threatening grin at the pair.

The Guard and Attendant started to snicker, “Yeah yeah sure sweet-cheeks I’ll go get him his inhaler, but what are you gonna do for us?” The Attendant leered right at her chest. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you, you fucking loser I’m not going to take my heel and cram it so far up your ass that you’ll be tasting shoe leather for the rest of your life!”

“Fucking fine bitch, I could do better than your ugly ass anyway! Crazy slut! The Attendant snapped, his dim witted friend broke out into a fit of laughter and followed him out of the door. But not before the twins heard the attendant slap the guard in the back of the head. Ellie giggled and then rushed back to to sitting in front of her brother, Edward had regained his breathing but was still huffing and wheezing like an old steam engine.

“Those two sure were charming Eleanor mused with a snort.” She sent a worried smile towards her brother. Edward wheezed out “Oh yeah, a couple of real pals” he spit out bitterly. She sighed and pulled the creaky old chair closer to the pane in front of them. Leaned her forehead against the glass and stared hard at him. “Are you gonna be okay in here without me Eddie-Bear?” Eleanor said in a whisper. “Oh please don’t call me that in here!” he rasped with a groan. They fell back into silence as Ellie once again started to cry. The attendant finally returned and all but pelted Edward with his inhaler, it thunked against the glass and Ellie shot her head up and glared at the man so hard that if she could her stare alone would have killed him on the spot.

Edward sighed and kicked his foot out to begin to drag the inhaler over to himself. Dragging the green tube a smidge closer. The Attendant was watching the display with sick glee and Eleanor slammed her hand on the glass once again and yelled at him “Do your job you loser!” “I’m fine Elle, I’ve almost got it.” Edward said tiredly. Finally the attendant waltzed over and picked up the inhaler and handed it to the Edward and he took a deep puff from the canister. Waited for a moment and then took another, shorter inhale until his breathing returned to normal and he took a deep breath in and let out slightly shaky but strong. He then took a deep breath in and exhaled through his nose and rubbed a hand over his weary face. “You and I both know we’ve been through much worse than this.” He said handing the inhaler back to the attendant. “Man I think you should keep that thing on you. The kid said rubbing the back his neck. Apparently it says in the rule book that you’re allowed to have it or whatever. Just don’t give it to one of the junkies okay?

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Edward responded blankly, pocketing the canister. At that the Attendant left the room and once more Eleanor and him were left in relative isolation. Silence fell over the pair once more and this time Edward took the step to break it. “Why are you so worried all of sudden? You knew what I was going to be achieving. He was trying to remain calm and keep his tone as even as possible. The role of emotional support sibling fitting him about as well as his old choir uniform would fit if he tired it on today.

“I just…” she paused, a twinge of fear colored the deep breathe Eleanor took in. “Thought you were the one who had it together, y’know?” Edward quirked an eyebrow in response and let out a quiet snort. Eleanor rolled her eyes and huffed “Aside from the online terrorist group and the death traps with rats that eat peoples faces off. I mean” she finished. “How are my rats by the way? I was worried those pigs would have killed them or simply dumped them back in the streets.” Edward said sadly. “You don’t need to worry about them Eddie, I took em all in, they’re hanging out in a new cage at my place! I got them the cutest little rat safe furniture on Etsy, oh my god they’re gonna be living it up in style! She beamed with a flourish of her hands.

They looked at each other and started laughing, warmth filling their chests. “Oh shit! Eleanor said wiping her eyes, I got a bunch of tears stuck in my contact, fucks sake gimme a second. She squinted her right eye and placed some strawberry scented hands sanitizer onto her hands. Then proceeded to dig around her eyeball to release the well of tears and restore her vision. Edward laughed a little harder and scolded in a relaxed tone “Now, now Eleanor what would Sister Mary Sabrina say if she saw you now, behaving so unladylike?” He giggled at the end of it. Ellie having finally retched the pent up tears from her eyes swiftly and expertly popped the contact back into her eyeball and looked back at Edward’s smirking face. His eyes shining with playfulness. Eleanor rolled her eyes and said gruffly “Like I give a fuck what the old twat thinks about me.” Edward laughed once more waiting for the rant that he himself had heard time and time again. “I swear to God Ellie groaned that woman got off on torturing me! I don’t even know what her deal was, she was always going on and on and on-“ it was at this point Edward joined in on her rant knowing exactly what she would say next “About how all she wanted was to make the world pretty, but if she wanted the world to be pretty why was the Orphanage such a shithole then?“ he mimicked in high pitched feminine voice at the same time Eleanor ranted.

“I guess you’ve heard this song and dance before huh?” Eleanor said rubbing her neck sheepishly. “Oh only about five times or so” her brother said with a quiet laugh looking to the floor with a soft smile“ “Touché Eddie-Bear!” Eleanor said directing a pair of finger guns at him as she laughed. He smiled “I guess we should finally talk business Edward sighed.” Looking straight at Ellie. “Yeah I guess she rolled her eyes with a frown. I talked to your lawyer, he and I discussed she said slowly. Edward was beginning to grow annoyed with her cloying tone “and you’re not going to like this but he and I think… you should give me Power of Attorney while you’re in here.

Edward pursed his lips and glared at her to continue.

She raised her hands in front of her chest in a gesture of peace. “It’s just while you’re stuck in here and you’ll get to be in charge again as soon as you get out and I do not mean breakout! I know exactly what you’re thinking Edward Joseph Nashton!” She snapped pointing a manicured finger right at his chest. Edward exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and pushed his glasses further up his nose “So many pesky little rules and regulations. Why does anyone even think to follow them?” He grumbled as he picked at the skin around his nail beds.

“I dunno broski, Eleanor said with a tired sigh maybe so we all don’t flood the city when we’re feeling grumpy.” She stared at him with an unamused glower. Edward scoffed. “It really wasn’t that bad, people are getting so frenzied by a little water. He said in a manic tone. “The fireworks going off were such a pretty sight to see! He giggled” Forest green eyes swirling with madness. “Yeah no it was realllly great!”Eleanor said words dripping with sarcasm. “Except for that one part. Hmmmm lemme see if I can recall what it was… Eleanor mused in a mocking tone, pursing her lips and tapping a sparkly finger nail onto her chin. Edward still lost in his self aggrandizing delusions was snickering up a storm until Ellie’s shrill screech of “THAT’S IT!” and a snap of her fingers brought him back to reality and he jumped and looked her once more.

“The only part of your “grand plan” I didn’t like was that bit where one of your goons almost shot me, multiple times!” Beaming at him with a sardonic grin. “Hmph, I expressly told you to get out of the city sister dear. It’s not my fault you can’t follow simple instructions. Eleanor let out a noise of indignation and continued to glare at her brother as her cheeks began to turn a ruddy shade of crimson.

Crossing his arms over his chest as the chains of his chuffs rattled, Edward turned his head away from Eleanor and pointed his nose up haughty. “I give her a riddle so simple a toddler could solve it and she doesn’t even try to figure it out! She never even listens to me or takes any interest in what I care about.” He thought darkly, turning his head down to his chest. Sinking into the swirling sea of despair that was his mind. Feelings of isolation and anger sloshed over him like waves during a hurricane. He was stuck in a flimsy life boat of self loathing. Until, suddenly he was harshly brought back to reality by the fierce tapping on the glass like a child choosing a goldfish at the pet store and Eleanor’s cries of “Hey! Earth to Eddie, you in there at all? Come on Dorkzilla don’t die on me now! I’m not done with you yet!”

He blinked dumbly as he returned to reality “Oh you’re still here.” he sniffed dismissively. “Of course I am dumbass! I’m not letting you have the last word on your stupid riddle!” She retaliated. “Edward rolled his eyes as he turned to look at her expectantly. “ Eleanor stared back at him blankly, the only things telling of her ever growing rage being the blush that covered her cheeks that was beginning to turn purple with fury and the way her mouth was permanently etched into a scowl. Letting out a quiet breathy laugh, Edward smiled to himself knowing he had won their little spat and had finally managed to push Eleanor to the peak of her carefully contained rage.

“I know what you’re trying to do” she gritted through her teeth.” Edward remained silent and only quirked an eyebrow in response. “You’re trying to push me away so you can sink into one of your stupid pity parties. It’s not gonna work, I’m all you got so you’re not pushing me away this time! Ellie choked out. Taking a very deep breath in she managed to steady herself seemingly and pushed a hand through her already ragged hair. She fixed her gaze on Eddie and he felt a fresh wave of guilt hit him. “That’s not at all what I’m doing.” He said defensively but all she responded with was a stare that saw right through him. Edward grumbled and they sat staring at each other.

Finally, Eleanor quipped “I’m still so lost on how a riddle about an elephant you texted me 5 minutes before you got arrested was supposed to tell me to get out of the city and not go to the Garden.”

“Like it would have been so much easier if you just said “Hey sis, hope you’re feeling okay today! I love you so much! BTW I’m going to flood the city and you should get the hell out of dodge. Oh also! Don’t go to Gotham City Gardens when it floods! My buddies from my stream will be there and you will TOTES get shot 🙈🙊🙉” XoX- Eddie Bear.”

Eleanor finished with giant inhale and Edward jokingly offered her the inhaler from his jumpsuit pocket. “Nah keep it.” She smiled sadly at him.

Edward laughed “Well first of all, I didn’t just text you” he punctuated his words with air-quotes. “Because it wouldn’t have been on brand. I’m the Riddler, Ellie I tend to Riddle.” They shared a quick laugh and he continued “Secondly, even if I did text you, the police still would have confiscated my phone and that would have been a confession. I wanted to go out my way, on my terms.” Puffing his chest as he spoke. “Finally, tone softening as he spoke “ The answer was Noah’s Ark.” he stated simply sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. Playful smirk on his lips.

“God, Eddie! That’s the worst riddle you could have tried, I would not have connected those dots!” Eleanor groaned placing her hands on her face and dragging them down. “Do you know how many contexts there are for elephants! Especially considering the last conversation we had over text was how we should go to the zoo again?” A fit of giggles breaking through the words. Edward shut his eyes as the tips of his ears began to turn pink. “I had forgotten about that.” He said reopening his eyes, a sheepish smile on his face. Rubbing the back of his neck he sighed and went on “I think I should be forgiven for that one, especially considering the pressure I was under at the time I sent it to you.”

“I mean no shit, but like yeah it was a real stinker.” It was then Edward’s turn to giggle. Eleanor groaned once again, “I’m just not ready to be the sibling who has their shit together.” She leaned back in the chair letting her head hang over the backrest of the dingy plastic seat. Sandy brown hair just smidge closer to blonde than Edward’s fluttered behind her.

They’ve gone back to silence now. Eleanor seemingly lost in thought with a quirked frown on her lips. “What are you thinking Ellie-Jelly?” Edward said quietly, internally cringing at the childish nickname. “Hmm”she said in a dazed tone. “I’m not really thinking right now, I’m just kind of sad.” “Well yes I can see that. Edward said with a small laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me right now I’m serious!” She said sitting upright. “Alright, alright I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it.” Raising his hands in defense, shutting his eyes and smiling at her. “Like, I’m just wondering if it’s my fault we turned out like this?” She sighed gesturing between herself and Edward. When she was met with a confused stare she continued: “Just what if you weren’t stuck with me when we were kids or if I stuck by your side more and I was always out chasing a way to feel less alone. Would we have been healthy?” The outer corners of her eyes crinkling in sadness.

“I mean I was clinging to you just as hard when we were little. Do you remember when we we’re 7 and you had to talk for me?” He said softly, pressing a hand to the glass in an attempt to offer his sister some form of affection or comfort.

Eleanor snorted in response “Yeah that’s only because I was smothering you.” Mumbling out the response.

“No you weren’t” Edward said firmly. “I asked you to do it and The Nuns considered it an affront to masculinity and that suffering would bring me peace.” “It didn’t” he spat out with a scowl “But like you said pointing at Eleanor as he spoke “They got off on torturing kids, especially us for some godforsaken reason!”

“But what abou-“ Ellie has started to say but she was quickly cut off by her brother. “Doesn’t matter, not your fault. I’d rather you tried to be happy instead of hanging around me! I could stand on my own two feet then, I can do it now. I really would rather you try and find some semblance of joy than hang back with me.” He said simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I should have done more for you! For us, we should have left this shit hole town a million years ago!” She wailed scrunching up her face in despair.

“Eleanor Bridget Nashton” Edward sighed tiredly, “You didn’t do anything, I didn’t do anything, nobody who was a victim of the corruption did anything to deserve what happened to them. Yes we could have left, but if we did I never would have done what I needed to do!” “My life’s purpose, I would have been aimless without the Riddler.”

“BUT YOU WOULDN’T BE LOCKED UP IN HERE!” She screamed, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I just want you to be happy.” She huffed out. “I know that and I am. Obviously not happy about incarceration, but I’m happy you’re still here. He smiled softy at her and Eleanor huffed. “Okay fine, you’re happy. That’s great to hear.”

“Hey,” a shaky voice let out both people in the room turned to look and a timid looking attendant had appeared in the room. “I- it’s just visitation hours are almost over and you have to leave soon Miss” the young woman quickly spit out.

“Alright, I’ll be done soon.” Edward said quietly. “Oh! Okay, I’ll be right outside to walk you out when you’re done. She squeaked at Eleanor and quickly dashed out of the room before Eleanor could respond. “Well she certainly is cute.” Ellie smirked. “Ugh please don’t” Edward crinkled his nose in disgust. “I thought you wanted to see me happy Eddie?!?” Eleanor asked mock hurt dripping from her voice. “I do, I just don’t want to see you happy with the nurse who’s in charge of the rectal doses.” “Eh, I’ll give her a rectal dose.” She cackled. “Seriously? Edward gagged, “you’re so disgusting sometimes.” Edward said fondly as he rolled his eyes.

Anyway, I thought about it a little more and you’re right. I can’t really do much with my assets in here and you can control what does and doesn’t get out Ellie.” He said casually. Looking his sister in the eyes with a small smile.

“You really don’t have to, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Eleanor said shyly.

“No I’m fine with it, really.” “Okay then! I’ll get the paperwork together and you and I can sign it next time I come visit you!” she said as she clapped her hands with joy. With that she stood from the plastic chair and stretched her arms over her head. “Ugh, I’m getting old!” Eleanor bemoaned popping her joints. She finally placed her jacked back onto her shoulders and picked up her purse. She looked up to see the attendants starting to uncuff Edward and lead him back to his cell.

“You sure you’ll be okay in here Eddie?” Eleanor asked sadly. He stretched out his limbs, rubbing at his wrists and smiled at her. “Remember Elle, we’ve been through worse.” He called as the Arkham staff lead him from the visitation cell.

“Okay.” She said to no one in particular already missing Edward’s presence, once again feeling the looming sense of dread and loneliness wash over her. She walked from the room to where the nurse was waiting. As Eleanor left Arkham she released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding onto and walked to her waiting car. Worries for her brother and the future swirling about in her head.

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