#or was he like 'well. its another day of me being grandfathers favorite i guess' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 11

Cult Girl goes on a little solo excursion while Hannibal works.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: (fake) blood, mentions of death overseas, anti-choice harassment, discussion of abortion

Archie and Max leaving the picture was a problem you couldn't bring yourself to deal with when you awoke the next day. You anticipated a massive downward spiral if you didn't do something for yourself and fast. You'd spent so much time worrying about your schoolwork and your baby that it was long past due.

You made a couple of phone calls and found a GameStop a little out of the way with a used copy of Pokémon Alpha Sapphire for sale. About twenty minutes drive. Hannibal had back-to-back appointments clogging up his day, so it gave you an excuse to go on a little excursion.

You climbed into your car, picked an extensive playlist of your favorite songs and set off. You plugged the directions into your phone and let the map guide you. The roads narrowed as you watched your surroundings grow less and less familiar.

Soon enough, you pulled into a parking lot. Nestled between a Planned Parenthood and a used bookstore, the GameStop beckoned you. At the end of your tunnel vision was that game and nothing could stop you from getting it.

Certainly not from lack of trying.

"Stop right there!" A voice said. It chuckled, trying to make the rude interruption seem friendly.

An obstacle appeared in your line of sight: a plain-looking middle-aged white woman with dyed blonde hair. Just your garden variety Karen.

"Can I help you?" You said, giving your voice a distinct, annoyed bite.

She smiled, though not without discomfort. "Are you going, y'know, in there?"

She gestured to the building behind you. Uncertain of what she wanted or why she was making a trip to the GameStop so weird, you answered in the affirmative.

"Yeah, why?"

She wrapped her hand around your arm, as if to restrain you. Her touch made your skin crawl.

"I really don't think you should go in there."

You finally put the pieces together. This lady was just some anti-choice maniac, waiting outside a Planned Parenthood for any random pregnant woman to approach.

"Yeah, I totally carried this baby for five months just to get rid of it within a week of the legal termination threshold." You rolled your eyes. "I just want it to feel the maximum possible amount of pain when I destroy it."

The woman's face turned into one of abject horror and you smiled, feeling proud of yourself. You yanked your arm from her hand with full intent to walk away. That should have been the end of it.

"Wait!" She shouted, snatching you by the shoulder. "Please, reconsider. God gave you that little one because he wants you to be a mommy!"

"For the love of fuck, woman." You snarled. "Can you seriously not pick up on sarcasm? I'm not even going to the clinic. I'm going to the GameStop."

She wasn't convinced. "See, I think you're lying to me. I think you're telling me one thing and then you're gonna do another thing."

"What the hell is it any of your business, Karen?" You scowled at her. "Leave me alone!"

"Just pray about it, please!" She pleaded. "What if your baby grows up to be a soldier? Protecting your freedom?"

"Oh, then I should definitely kill it now." You snarked. "Would save him the trouble of getting blown up by other Americans in a senseless war like my dad."

Adda girl, [F/N]! You thought to yourself. Nothing gets nosy strangers to go away quite like revealing even more personal information!

She put both her hands on your protruding belly. "Don't worry, angel. Mommy isn't going to kill you! Aunt Laurie won't allow it!"

You vaguely remembered your obstetrician saying something about how twenty-week fetuses could hear the outside world. You weren't planning on subjecting the kid to violence this early on, but desperate times call for desperation.

You grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her down. She screamed, getting the attention of a few onlookers.

"Help!" She wailed, lying on the ground as if she couldn't get up. "I'm being attacked!"

You dashed as quickly as your legs could carry you into the GameStop. The lone cashier, a purple-haired girl with a nose ring, pretended that she hadn't been watching the altercation and looked back down at her sandwich.

"Welcome to GameStop." She said, hesitantly. "Are you... [F/N]?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm here for that copy of Alpha Sapphire."

"Tubular." She rummaged in a drawer beside her for the envelope.

A rather massive eevee plush displayed behind the counter caught your eye. "How much for her?"

The cashier placed the game on the counter and looked back at the massive eevee. "Fourty-four ninety-five."

"I'll take her too." You said.

The cashier pulled the eevee down from the shelf and scanned its tag.

"Aight, your total is sixty-nine eighty." She said.

"Nice." You snickered, reaching for your credit card.

The cashier smirked as you inserted the chip. "Hey, was that crazy lady accosting you outside?"

"I take it she does that a lot?" You asked.

She heaved a sigh. "You have no idea."

You looked behind at the large windows and saw the woman standing outside the door, waiting for you. You felt like a caged animal. Your eyes scanned the room and landed on a couple ketchup packets. A sick idea formed in your head.

"Are you gonna use those?" You asked, pointing to them.

The cashier glanced at the woman and raised her eyebrow. "Not if you have a better use for them."

The bell jangled as you walked out of the store with a shopping bag around your wrist and a ketchup packet in each hand. Just as suspected, the woman grabbed your arm.

"Oh, honey!" She exclaimed. "Before you leave, god put it on my mind to say a little prayer for the unborn soldier he's gifted you in your womb."

"I'd rather you not." You said, trying to yank your arm out of her surprisingly strong grip.

"You're brave, but foolish, girl." She barked, positioning herself in front of you. You fidgeted with the ketchup packets behind your back, opening them just enough.

The woman put both her hands on your belly. The second you felt her touch, you threw yourself backwards. You landed, not without pain, squarely on your ass.

"Oh my?" The woman covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Are you--"

You leaned forward and moaned in pain, clutching your baby bump with one hand while drenching your shorts in ketchup with the other. You pretended to cave around the pain, then threw yourself back, revealing a bloody stain leaking from between your legs. The woman shrieked.

"Oh my fucking god!" The cashier from the store said, rushing to your side. She put her hand on your shoulder and glared at the woman. "What did you do?!?"

"She pushed me and I think it hurt my baby!" You wailed.

"Holy shit, why would you hurt her baby?!" The cashier shouted, allowing you to slink your arm around her shoulder for support. She then snatched your shopping bag from the ground.

"I didn't mean to, honest!" She said, on the verge of tears. "I was just trying to spread god's love and joy-"

"By assaulting a pregnant woman?!" The cashier yelled. You were clutching your stomach in fake pain. She helped you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you to the clinic."

You conjured up some fake tears. "You killed my baby!"

"You wicked woman!" She cried out. Her voice faded out as you approached the clinic. "You don’t deserve a baby!"

You kept up the crying and wailing until you arrived at the Planned Parenthood. More interested in covering her own ass than begging for forgiveness, the crazy woman made herself scarce. Entering the clinic with an incriminating bloodstain on your pants was awkward, for a moment. But it was easy enough to explain and even earned a laugh or two from the doctors on staff.

Once you were completely certain the crazy lady had left, you scooped up your shopping bag, said goodbye to the cashier and climbed into the car.

Before you put the key in the ignition, you took a moment. You took a moment to do something you knew you shouldn't have.

You placed your hand on your belly and stroked it. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

You didn't know why you paused. It wasn't like the fetus was going to answer.

"Sorry you had to see that." You said. "Or, I guess, hear that. I wish I could tell you that people aren't really like that in real life, but I can't. Either that or I'm just a magnet for insane people. Hope that it's not genetic."

It just occurred to you that, if your obstetrician was right, the fetus heard everything that you said about killing it. Logically speaking, you knew it wasn't developed enough to comprehend what you were saying, but you still felt like you owed it an apology.

"Hey, scamp." You said, appropriating a nickname your grandfather gave you. "I'm sorry that I talked all that shit back there. About killing you and whatnot. I don't want to kill you. I actually want you to live an amazing life."

Just then, you felt a kick. The doctor war right: there was no mistaking it. The baby kicked.

Your mouth hung dumbly open, delight and fear chasing each other around in your mind. "Holy crap!"

You drove home as fast as legally possible. You needed to get home. As you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that Hannibal's car wasn't there.

He'll be home any minute, you thought. Might as well stay out here to catch him when he arrives.

That was an hour ago. Not that you'd noticed. You would have sat in that car, talking to your baby for an eternity. It wasn't until you heard a tapping on the window did you exit your trance.

Hannibal examined the scene. The ketchup, the massive eevee and his suddenly very chatty fiancée shooting the breeze with her fetus. He smirked.

"Did we have a fun afternoon?"

#hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #cult girl #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #tw abortion #tw pro life #Karen

83 notes · View notes

avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

65 notes · View notes

shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Analyzing Illumi Zoldyck's Character

Chrollo Analysis | Hisoka Analysis | Killua Analysis

What’s up y’all! Sorry for being away for the last few days. I needed a break from social media because I am so tired of seeing toxic, self-righteous people on my TL. Anyway, quite a lot of you liked my posts about analyzing HxH characters and somehow comparing them to VLD characters. Today, I’ll be talking about Illumi Zoldyck and I’ll try to compare him to a Voltron character. I know many people have already analyzed this character before, but it wouldn’t hurt to add to the discussion some years later. If you want me to write about anything else, send me an ask! The formatting of this post may be different than the one I wrote about Hisoka Morrow (click his name to view that post).

HERE WE GO!

In the first season, all of the characters are contestants for the Hunter’s Exam. I say contestants because this is a contest to see who can win without any injuries and can keep up with each host. I forget what number stage they were at, but I do know they were at the stage where each opponent has to fight each other. They are declared the winner if their opponent forfeits or gives up mid-match. (Off-topic, but) I am going, to be honest; Gon was my favorite character but his flaws began to show, annoyed me, and later led to his horrific downfall (based from YouTube clips). He didn’t know when to stop and kept pushing himself over the limit. Anyway, Killua and Gittarackur are set to fight. This is when things take a turn for the worse.

Gittarackur is a form of a disguise for Illumi to mask his identity. His face is long; nearly (and reminds me of) in the shape of a Tiki. His face also reminds me of the Witch Doctor mask from Scooby-Doo and Hell-raiser. He has several pins stuck in his face to maintain the facial features of Gittarackur. On the flip side, if he removes the pins, his biological form is revealed. Once he does this, Killua is nearly paralyzed; he cannot believe his eyes and I’m sure the trauma he endured at home hit him like a sack of rocks. Illumi then tells Killua that he wants him to return home, that he cannot maintain a friendship with Gon, stated that he was going to kill Gon, but realizes that if he does so he will be disqualified and will not obtain his Hunter’s license.

I’m assuming the cops aren’t a thing in this reality and the only way for them to “destroy” under the law is by obtaining the license. What do you think? I rarely see police officers; all I see are the Mafia and every they suck compared to the Zoldyck's and the Phantom Troupe. Shit, it seems like they’re the police but have twisted motives.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a fictional character or not, first impressions matter and he bombed this one...even for a villain.

But you did this for what?

How can you hypnotize (by using Nen) your own brother into killing another opponent because he doesn’t want to become an emotionless zombie like you? At least, that’s my perception. Telling your brother to run every time he faces an opponent that he knows he cannot win against is the sickest shit I’ve ever seen. I know I’m jumping around but another thought popped into my head. As the seasons go on, Illumi expresses an odd way of loving his younger brother and to him, that means to make him suffer in the same way he had to. It seems like Illumi is jealous of Gon in a way. (I’ve seen clips on YouTube) Killua takes Alluka to the hospital to heal Gon. Illumi has stated several times to Hisoka that Killua was hiding rules from him and that he still wanted to get rid of Alluka. Although it is clearly stated why he wanted Alluka gone, I still think that Illumi was jealous of Gon simply because his younger brother preferred to be with a friend instead of him. This is why he emphasizes “You cannot have friends. Either they will betray you or you’ll betray them.”

As I read and watched as the seasons went on, I noticed something about Illumi and his family. We all know that the children were raised by their parents. Specifically, their dad is a trained assassin. I can’t remember but I think Zeno is their grandfather who is also an assassin.

I view him as a character that has suffered from abuse and trauma in order to mold him into an assassin. He is emotionless, doesn’t really care for others, has an odd relationship with Killua that he doesn’t have for his other siblings, and is a hypocrite. Killua can’t be friends with Gon but every time the show cuts to him, he’s with Hisoka? Something is fishy there. Are they more than friends? OK, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Here's the physical analysis below.

Face

When masquerading as Gittarackur, his face has several pins in them and his hair is in a rock star form of Mohawk that is purple. I’ll give him 10/10 for uniqueness, yet it still reminded me of Hell Raiser.

I’ve noticed that when he is in public he is in costume. Why doesn’t he reveal himself in public? I’ve researched this and no one could answer this question. My guess is that he is a verified hunter and assassin. How can you carry out your missions if everyone knows what you look like? Without the pins in his face, it reverts back to his natural state. To me, his large eyes and long, shiny black hair are his distinguished features. Although he may be my least favorite character, he does have pretty eyes. Haven’t you all heard of “I got lost in his/her eyes”?

Yeah, that can be said about him. Most definitely. He rarely smiles and when he does, something BAD is going to happen. I saw him laugh crazily once Alluka began the healing process, the Nen (I guess) rose from the hospital and got on him. This scene reminds me of how Haggar reacted once the Komar’s quintessence bounced from Voltron and bounced onto her. Wow, these supernatural abilities make y’all feel that good?

Clothes

Gittarackur and Illumi wear the same clothes, which should be a clear giveaway that they are the same. Illumi wears a neural green short jacket that has yellow pins in them, a light green shirt underneath, and green pants. His shoes remind me of loafers with a heel on them, something my grandmother would wear.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say again, these bad-ass men in this show are very stylish and seem to be in shape more than I am. Although Illumi irks me, his fashion is great and this is why people prefer him to be their favorite character. Shows should always produce characters that are memorable; that is the key to a long-lasting fan base.

In conclusion, this anime (for the most part) has well-rounded characters that make the plot interesting and wanting more.

Illumi and Lotor are somewhat similar. They both grew up in abusive households and lost some sense of sensitivity, common sense, and were often “misguided” by their own selfishness. Illumi wants a better life for Killua by constantly brainwashing him into thinking that he cannot have friends and his can only find happiness through killing. Zarkon raises Lotor to be a prince that shouldn't work with planets and should destroy them. This explains why he used deceased Alteans from the colony, drained their quintessence, and didn't give them a proper burial. Lotor IS just like his father but Killua IS NOT like Illumi. Ironic, huh? As we all know by now, Lotor is the son of Honerva (Haggar) and Zarkon. After the rift accident, he became an emotionless, ruthless monster that colonized and destroyed planets just to gain their quintessence. He taught this to his son and once he was old enough to think for himself, he refused to act in such a way. Although he was exiled and said he wasn’t like Zarkon, he was; but worse. Lotor studied and gained knowledge about Altea and its people while using Allura to gain the secrets of Oriande. I say he used her because he knew from the moment he met her that he was harvesting Altean quintessence. While fighting the white lion, he yelled “Victory or Death” which is a common catchphrase the Galra use when they are in battle. In fact, the Galra have been victims of trauma from Zarkon. Zarkon’s ruthless ways of ruling had no other motive except for obtaining quintessence so he could live forever. Silva’s way of raising his children was done to mold them into assassins. Since he was taught this way he did the same thing to his children. Zarkon, Silva, and Zeno think that their ways of parenting are necessary for survive in life when it doesn’t have to be that way. Illumi and Lotor have experienced this horrific parenting and deal with it in different ways. Illumi is oddly obsessive of his younger brother and Lotor is a fucking liar.

This analysis was fun! Next, I’ll be analyzing Killua and Keith Kogane.

If you’d like to see more posts like this, send me an ASK!

186 notes · View notes

thatwasthenightthingschanged · 3 years

Text

so, I personally think The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky is one of the best (if not the best) teen book of all time and in general just one of the best books out there and I’m tired of it being slandered as “pretentious” so here’s a list of reasons why it’s so freaking good:

first things first, I feel like Stephen Chbosky is one of the few (adult) writers who truly gets what it’s like to be a teen. some writers pretend teenagers are unknowing little kids, some do get closer to what the reality looks like but he just. went all in. Charlie has so many of the typical teenager experience while also being a really deep character who has profound conversations about his friends but sometimes also just gets really high

Charlie in general is one of my favorite fictional characters ever. as a teen, I was struggling with similar feelings as him, and I felt so undersood by him. like how he would sometimes just spend hurs looking at other people asking himself what their life might be like. how he is painfully awkward and doesn’t know how to tell a girl he actually doesn’t like her that way because he doesn’t want to hurt her. how he literally says he doesn’t want to be dead, he just wishes he could fall asleep for a little while. the way he so deeply cares about his friends even if he sometimes goes about it the wrong way. and so much more

the quote “we accept the love we think we deserve” has literally changed my life. like, I think it’s so true and oftentimes when I looked back on toxic people I couldn’t let go I would think back on this quote and be like. oh. yeah. it makes sense.

the fact that I’ve read the book over five times now and watched the move like 20 times and every time I still find something new and intriguing about it. like, it just never gets boring

the first time I read it was when I was 15, like Charlie, and I felt really down and sad all of the time and this book gave me a sense of hope. Like, maybe not everything will be perfect one day, but it will get okay, eventually.

I just generally like the message it carries about mental health. I literally have the quote “So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. Maybe we’ll never know most of them. But even though we can’t choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.” memorized. Whenever I experience a difficult time, I remember this quote and know that yes, what is happening to me is shitty and I can’t do anythign about that or what has been done to me in the past and traumatized me but I can still choose how I want to proceed. I also love the notion, as I said, of “we can try to feel okay about them”. like, I don’t even have to feel happy about my life. Maybe okay is enough. Okay is achievable.

while we’re on the topic of its messages, I also like that it tackles the issue of feeling as though you cannot complain about difficult stuff that’s going on in your life because others have it worse. Several of my friends (as well as I once) struggle with reaching out to others because we think our problems are not worth talking about. I really like that Charlie concludes that yeah, there will always be people who have it worse but that doesn’t make your struggle less valid. If it’s difficult for YOU, it already deserves to be talked about.

quick not-that-serious note but THE MUSIC? okay that’s not so prominent in the books but Charlie’s music taste is just. impeccable

(SPOILER) I love that the book talks about sexual assault both on men and women. Sexual assault is still a topic of taboo, but definitely was even more so one when the book was released. And it also tackles it in such a good way imo.

LET’S TALK ABOUT PATRICK. I love how the book and Charlie don’t make a big deal out of Patrick being gay. I mean this book was written from the perspective of the 90s, still the author chose not to focus on homophobia towards Patrick, but rather on how he’s a normal person and just wants to love and be loved like everyone else, and everyone in his closest circle supports him wholeheartedly.

one thing that is diferent from the movies which I love about the book is its talk about masculinity. In one scene in the book, Charlie remembers how his father went into the kitchen and cried after watching the last episode of M.A.S.H.. He teaches his sons that crying in public is not acceptable and I love how the book discusses the negative influences of toxic masculinity on men and how it might lead to them feeling as though they cannot express their emotions, ever.

another scene I love in the book is when Charlie talks about his grnadfather and how he grew up poor and wanted his daughters to do better and so he slapped them if the got bad grades. I also love the introspection of his grandfather and how he recognizes that some of that might have been the reason why Aunt Helen turned out the way she did. The book also talks about Charlie’s dad, and how his father was abused by his father as a kid, and as a result he promised himself to never do physical harm to his kids, ever.

another thing that I found really relatable is how Charlie is constantly not really there. He either, as I’ve already mentioned, wonders what other people’s lives might be like or thinks about how someday all of what is currently happening to him will be just a story, and that also prevents him from really being there. I am definitely guilty of that too and sometimes I have these moments of coming back down to earth and realising that all this time has passed and I never really participated in life.

honestly I could go on and on (for example about Sam and the discussion of making onself small so that a love interest might like you, or his sister and her abortion, etc etc) but I’ll stop now. All of this to say is that The Perks seriously improved my life massively and I think it’s not only relevant to teens but also adults, since it tackles a lot of big life questions in such a good and valuable way. I actually find it far from pretentious and rather a very realistic depiction of so many people’s life and mental issues and undermining the way it has genuinely improved other people’s life is shitty and I think people should, just, stop it. Just because it’s a teen book doesn’t mean that it cannot be good

#long post #the perks of being a wallflower #the perks #2 ppl liked my text post so this rant goes out to u guys askhdahs

71 notes · View notes

the-hate-keeps-me-warm · 3 years

Text

weed garden

now I know this joke is dead but I ended up over writing this so some of it got cut this is my first real fic vie published i hope you like it if not feel free to make fun of me It was ruby's idea she was stressed about well everything and she knew yang and Blake had a lot of it, it was legal in atlas after all she only took a little they probably wouldn't even notice she had it for a week just to make sure they didn't

They were sitting alone after training oscar was sweaty and looked tired she leaned over "So Oscar uh what do you think of smoking" He raised an eyebrow "well my aunt smoked cigarettes and a bit of weed during the winter" he said putting long memory on his hip "Uh why the winter," she asked meeting his raised brow "Well there's not as much work to do in the winter so you can slack off a lot more" he responded "Well uh what about you have you ever smoked" she tried not to seem too obvious but she started to nervously fidget with her hands “Uh well my aunt let me smoke a cigarette once when I was 12, but I think that was to make me hate them she bought the most bitter horrible tasting ones she could," he said a faint look of annoyance at his aunt going across his face She giggled and said "from what you tell me that sounds very like her but like uh would you smoke weed like now I mean" He rubbed the back of his neck his eyes darted to her "well uh maybe with someone I trust" She bit her lip and said "well do you trust me" His ears got a little red "well of course I trust you, id smoke with you if you asked"

"Well I'm asking Weiss is going to one of those art show thingies blake and yang are going to uh do whatever it is they do so I'll have the room all to myself so I thought that maybe we could do it together smoking I mean" her cheeks grew red to match his ears He nodded his head just slightly "I uh sure do you want me to bring cookies my aunt would always ask me to bake for her after she smoked" She smiles wide "yeees please the Peanut butter chocolate chip ones or the strawberry ones there the best" His face started to get flushed too "I uh I can make you both I’m assuming you're supplying the, uh you know weed" "Well yeah but that's gonna take a while won’t it, you don't have to make both," she said trying to hide the fact that she wanted both of them "No no I'll make them ironwood gave me access to the cafeteria kitchen so it won't take very long at all" he fiddled with his hands "and besides I know you like my baking and I like doing it for you" She smiled "he likes baking for me," she thought while trying not to giggle "well then I won't stop you I'll bring those pretzels you like" He smiled a little "I won't tell anyone were doing this" he stood up and said "I’ll see you tomorrow I got to get baking I might make some other things"

She nodded her head and they split up when she got back to her room she was practically bouncing with excitement yang was sitting on her bed "why aren't you tired you and Oscar were training all day" her face flushed a little "Well I’m just kinda excited I’m gonna have the room all to myself" she says trying not to be super obvious "I saw you and oscar talking after you trained did you invite him over," blake says hidden in her bunk “damn you blake” she thought Yang beams excitedly "is it a date!" "What no I just invited him over to eat junk food and play video games" she waved her hands around frantically not helping her case

Yang deadpans "you asked him to come to your dorm room alone he might be oscar but he's still a teenage boy ruby he’s gonna think it’s a date" Ruby crossed her arms and grumbled "Look if you don't like him that's ok but it's obvious to everyone how much he likes you so if you don’t like him don't lead him on make sure he understands how you feel" Blake chimed in peeking out from her bunk

"I uh I think I like him but I don't know if I want things to change yet and I'm not even sure if he likes me " she sits down on her bed

Yang hops down from her bed and sits next to ruby throwing an arm around her shoulder "that's perfectly ok if you feel that way but oscar likes you the way he stares at you the way he talks about you it's obvious" she smiles at ruby's red cheeks and tries to finish her speech with "but if you do decide you like him to make sure to practice safe-uhg" ruby ends it with a punch to the gut "Yaaang shut up even if i do like him I'm not talking about that" she squeaks and reals back for another punch yang puts her hands up in surrender "Alright Oscar would probably have a heart attack anyway I’m just saying" yang kisses ruby on the forehead like she always did "you should try to talk to him about it ok" Ruby grumbles a simple "I’ll try"

Oscar is having a similar time

Nora hugs him tightly "ooo my baby's going on a date" oscar blushes as ren pulls Nora off of him "It’s not a date she just invited me over to play video games and stuff" he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly Jaune sitting at the small table "Oscar you know she's into you and isn't it weird that she waited till everyone would be gone to invite you over" Oscars face flushed an even deeper red than it had been before and he frowns "well I don't think she is I’m sure she has lots of better people to choose from" Ren put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder "Oscar please do not doubt yourself you’re great"

"Yeah you’re a total catch Oscar your smart cute strong brave you have freckles and your cool with the headmaster of atlas" Nora chimed in counting his positive traits on her fingers "Thanks" is the only response Oscar can think of his embarrassment only growing "Now you need to pick out what your gonna wear and what your gonna say," Nora says standing quickly "Nora he doesn't need us to meddle with it if you need to advise Oscar you just have to ask I would recommend wearing something casual," ren said "Alright I will"

They both went to bed thinking about their little 'date' in the morning oscar started baking and when he has a lot on his mind he tends to overdo it so he ended up making both batches of cookies a mini strawberry cake a dish of brownies and french toast casserole for breakfast

After wby left ruby spent the morning gathering snacks and making the room as comfy as possible as well as gathering Oscars and her favorite games she remembered yang saying that her first time smoking sucked so she wanted to make sure she and Oscars first time was fun

Oscar had gone back to the dorm with all the food packed carefully to get ready Ren was the only one in the room he was sitting on Nora’s bed reading “oscar before you go I need to talk to you please sit” ren sounded serious and not in his normal way so he sat across from him “now Jaune and I didn’t bring this up earlier but we decided it was important to talk to you about because your 15 and we both know what it was like being that age and we know you like ruby a lot” he talked like how oscar imagined his father would “Uh yeah so what is this about” oscar had a vague idea in his head of what it was “I’m going to give you the talk I know your aunt gave you one but I think it’s a good idea for another man to talk to you as well,” ren said closing his book and leaning forward So then began 5 minutes of surprisingly not awkward conversation ren was very easy to talk to ren finished the conversation with handing oscar a condom “now I know you probably won’t use this but I want you to be safe ok and please don’t do anything you don’t think you’re ready for” Oscars’ face was pretty red after that but he put the condom in his back pocket and thanked ren before taking everything he needed to Ruby's room She opened the door right as he was about to knock “oscar I was just about to come to get you” She said trying to act casual “Oh uh am I late,” he asked he would look at his watch but his hands were very full she takes the containers from his arms and sets them with ease on the little table next to the window

“Nope I was just getting impatient,” she says spinning back around to face him she was in her pajamas he thought she looked really cute he was just wearing his old pants and a comfy sweater he had bought in argus “Well do you want to uh you know smoke” he tried to not sound awkward but the boy can only do so much “Yeah sure let me get it” she was excited to finally be able to relax with him she lifted her mattress and pulled out the joint it was in a plastic bag with the lighter she had picked up in atlas she sits down on her bed which she had piled blankets and pillows on she beckons him to sit with her and he does leave space between them

“Alright so I guess I’ll go first,” she says lighting the joint then inhaling and immediately coughing

Oscar leans closer “are you ok” the actual worry in his voice makes rubies heart squeeze a little but she tries to play it cool “yeah yeah it’s just rough do you want to try,” she says holding it out to him he gently takes is and holds it up to his lips slowly inhaling then coughing himself covering his mouth and holding it back out to her “your right that’s rough”

Ruby laughs “I told you” they pass it back and forth for a little bit they had both begun to feel it then oscar giggles

“What’s so funny,” she says nudging him with her shoulders he giggles again and says “your name is ruby carmine rose all your names are words for red” ruby laughs “ha your right wait what’s your middle name is it funny” oscar leans back onto a pillow “no its magus it means uh sorcerer oh I don’t like that I just put that together” oscar starts to laugh and in between laughs says “ha that makes way too much sense man maybe destiny exist it was my great grandfather’s name, oh god” Oscars laugh becomes Weezy and ruby leans on him “well I think its a cool name” oscar stops laughing and says “well I guess it is its fitting at least right” he inhales again and passes it back to ruby it’s over halfway burned out she's been asking it in an old red solo cup “you know what about we bust out those snacks I don’t know about you but I’m really hungry” she sits up oscar does right after he stands and gets the cookies before she does he hands her the tupperware box of the strawberry chocolate chip she smiles and giggles “thanks cookie” she says bursting into laughter after

Oscar cocks his head to the side “cookie?” rubies laughter grows more intense “it’s my nickname for you in my head it’s so dumb it’s because your sweet and your freckles look like chocolate chips” oscar started to laugh as well “that’s adorable ruby” he says as her face gets red they both sit back down this time oscar leaning on ruby and then their silent ruby thought maybe oscar had fallen asleep “You know ruby you are like the coolest person I’ve ever met like your the youngest person to get to beacon a silver-eyed warrior and your the leader of your team that’s all amazing,” he said still leaned against her she smiled and her face got hot

“Well I think you’re cool to oscar,” she said munching on a strawberry chocolate chip cookie

He looks up with the biggest smile she’s ever seen him wear “thanks that means a lot” he bites his lip “do you wanna play some video games” he said with a mischievous grin

“Yes I was looking forward to kicking your ass,” she said as they pull their scrolls out and start playing Grimm beat down Vl a game ruby rocked at and oscar had never managed to beat her at when they started to play and oscar was doing way too well he was doing combos and not just button mashing he was blocking and dodging ruby was getting frustrated she leaned forward preparing to up her game and up her game she did but it wasn’t enough oscar took the first round than the second even ending it with a fatality

Ruby groaned in frustration taking another drag of the joint then passing it to oscar “how did you get so good is it the weed do you have weed powers”

Oscar laughed and said “I don’t know I just feel super relaxed and your moving slower” She crosses her arms with a fake pout “were gonna say weed powers hm what do you wanna do now I am tired but a nap seems like a waste" There's a sparkle in Oscars eye "a nap sounds awesome" Well uh wanna take a nap I thought you were asleep earlier" he lays his head back down on her shoulder "You know usually id be nervous about being so close to you but this is nice you smell like metal" "Hm really? I thought I’d smell like weed or I don't know rose petals," she says "Well you do smell like weed but mostly metal When you use your semblance you do smell like roses but when you work with crescent rose a bunch you smell like metal oh wow that probably sounded creepy" She shakes her head "no its kinda sweet you smell like weed and cookies my favorite smell"

"Thanks, I guess," oscar says then goes silent his breathing slows down after a while she looks at him and he looks like he’s asleep she needs to grab another cookie so she carefully lays him down and grabs another cookie trying to quietly eat it revealing in its deliciousness after finishing it she lays down beside him resting her head on his chest "he's really warm," she thinks and then drifts off to the most peaceful sleep she's had in a long time

___________________________________

sorry if this was formatted badly or its just bad i liked making it tho

#rwby #rosegarden #weegarden #ruby rose #oscar pine #oscar is a simp #he can cook good ok #ruby is also a simp #everyone ships it yang and nora are the captains #big brother ren #this was so much fun

19 notes · View notes

heathenarmyimagines · 3 years

Text

Title: Find Us

Summary: (Y/N)’s sleep study goes horribly wrong.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

Sitting at the table you had continued the research you had begun the day before, you had been knee deep in articles since you had sent your sibling off to school that morning and it was almost time for them to get out.

Not that they would be coming back home after school; your mother had to stay on location for a few days and for tonight you couldn’t hold down the fort because you had your own appointment.

Dr. Finehair said he had a specialist come in to conduct a sleep study to see if maybe it was a brainwave disturbance causing your sleeping problems and he wanted you to try and sleep as long as you could.

Without meaning to you had let your mind wander back to your phone call with Ivar yesterday.

After you hung up you spared a moment to think about how abruptly Ivar decided to end the call, it seemed like something was wrong with him.

You figured he would tell you when he felt the need to talk about it, so you went back to your research on Ivar the Boneless.

History was one of your favorite subjects because it’s like a story that really happened once upon a dark and twisted time.

The more you read the more you wanted to put it all aside and never look at it again, which was odd for you. Normally you loved the dark part of history, you believed that no country can ever grow without looking back at its history.

American history was your usual topic but this was a completely new ballpark, and Ivar the Boneless didn’t really feel like light reading. Especially when you couldn’t help but picture your best friend performing a Blood Eagle in order to avenge his father.

His father was another matter that needed researching, you had to look into as much as you could. Any small piece of information could be vital to figuring out this whole thing.

Whatever this thing was.

Your stomach growled and snapped you out of your own head, you sat aside your laptop and stretched before you stood up from your kitchen table.

The kitchen window gave your neighbor a good enough view that she could just walk by and see that you weren’t sleeping.

It didn’t surprise you that your mother didn’t trust you to stay awake on your own accord, because you also didn’t trust yourself to not take a nap.

God you needed a nap.

With a sigh you went and made yourself a quick bowl of ramen to ease your hunger without overfilling yourself.

It was about an hour before Ivar would be released.

He was going to drive you to the hospital and wait for you, meaning he would sleep in an uncomfortable waiting room or even worse his truck. It felt odd that he would do that for you, and even though you had asked him to, you thought he’d decline.

Suddenly your phone chimed with a message.

I’m leaving early be there in ten - Ivar

Cool, we can just chill until it’s time to go - (Y/N)

You looked at the phone and couldn’t help but second guess if that message was good enough, or if you should have added any emojis.

Ugh, this was not good, how could you have suddenly developed feelings for him; Ivar of all people. The guy you were trying to get to remember his past life.

A life in which he was married to you while being old enough to be your grandfather.

You groaned in mild annoyance and complete confusion as you went upstairs to change out of the pajamas you had been lounging in.

The minutes passed like seconds and soon Ivar was at your door.

Fighting the urge to double check yourself in the mirror you went downstairs to let him in.

‘Hey, I got your schoolwork.’ he said handing you a folder.

‘Boo.’ you whined as you looked at the assignments.

‘You’re welcome, not like I went out of my way to get them for you or anything.’ Ivar sassed.

‘Thank you, think you can help me with this...I hate math.’

‘I know, sure I’ll help.’

You led him to the kitchen and subtly motioned to the open window and waved at your neighbor who waved back.

The older woman looked at Ivar in confusion and Ivar waved politely before he sat at your table.

‘So are we starting with math first?’

‘Hell no, tell me about the man with no eyes.’ you said bluntly.

‘I don’t know much, man doesn’t like being in the public eye. Got rich through genius investments but he seems to come from old money despite the fact that no information on his family is available. My father said he was one of his first clients.

‘So it's not like he just time traveled to get here, he’s well established. Covered in mystery but still real, does that mean he’s been alive this whole time?’ you asked.

‘I would guess so but that doesn’t seem humanly possible.’ Ivar said back.

‘Maybe he isn’t human then, at this point we can’t afford to think too logically anymore, the new motto is if we can explain it then we can accept it.’

‘Inspirational.’ he hummed.

‘Thank you, I’m truly a poetic soul.’ you joked.

‘Yeah... there is more though, he knew too much.’

That got your attention, not because of what Ivar had said but the way he said it, like he wasn’t talking about something he’d experienced. It was as if he was talking about someone else he didn’t know.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He knew about my family, but it didn’t feel like he looked us up. He just...knew too much.’ Ivar tried to clarify.

‘What did he know?’

‘Dad was introducing us and he said this wasn’t all us...he knew two of us weren’t there and he was right. Bjorn wasn’t there and he knew about Gida...almost no one knows about Gida, Dad never talks about her except on her birthday.’

‘Who is Gida?’ you asked.

‘My sister, well half sister if you want to be politically correct. My dad’s first wife had two kids Bjorn and Gida, when his first company was just becoming successful he had to leave town a lot and on one trip he was told Gida had died of influenza.’

‘Oh my God, I’m sorry.’ you said sympathetically.

‘It’s ok, she died way before I was born, I’ve only seen a few pictures but I don’t know anything about her, but that guy did. He knew that none of us ever saw her and he knew she was sick, and I could tell that dad was surprised by him knowing.’

Now Ivar was looking off into the distance as if he himself wasn’t even here sitting at your table right now. It was as if he was mentally somewhere else, probably trying to come up with a scenario where his father would have talked about this girl named Gida.

‘Hey, calm down. We can put a pin in it for right now if you want to, I actually do need to get some of my homework done.’ you tried to comfort.

Ivar nodded and took in a deep breath and let it all out.

You actually managed to put most of your focus on stupid equations that no one would ever need in real life, but you couldn’t help but think about how hard this was all becoming now.

Ivar was in complete denial of who he must have been in his past life, anytime you brought it up he shuts down or starts bleeding. How much more proof did he need and what will he do when he can’t deny it any more?

By some miracle you finished all your assignments with mild confidence that it was at least a B+, Ivar was apparently putting all his focus on helping you.

Pretty soon it was time for the two of you to head out if you wanted to get to the hospital in time for your appointment.

The ride was uneventful, just casual talk about school and plans for next weekend; pretty much you talked about anything but the elephant in the room.

While you rode you were very proud of yourself for keeping things casual. It was as if you had pushed aside that mild panic you felt about the possibility of you having a crush on the guy next to you.

At the hospital you filled out some papers while Ivar was chatting with the lady at the desk, it was the same one from your first visit.

Her name was Helga, she was a blond woman who looked no older than twenty seven tops, but she spoke to Ivar as if she were an forty year old aunt.

‘Are you her ride home? She could be here for a while, your mother will worry.’ Helga asked.

‘Mother always does, I let her know I’d be home late if it makes you feel better.’ he assured.

‘It doesn’t.’

You felt kinda awkward interrupting to let her know you were done with the papers.

She took them and led you into an examination room where a male nurse took your vitals and gave you a gown to wear.

After a minute Dr. Finehair came in with another doctor who you had to assume was the specialist who would be conducting the study.

‘Hello Ms. (Y/N), I’m Dr. Finehair.’

You made a confused face and sent a looked between the two men.

‘My little brother, if it helps you can call him Halfdan.’ your doctor explained.

‘Don’t worry the smarter one is in charge.’ Halfdan smiled politely.

It was strange how easily his charm seemed to relax you, but you guessed as a doctor he had to have amazing bedside manners.

‘I’ve looked over all of your test results and it seems to be nothing physically with your body, other than what could be expected from an exhausted teenager.’ he said as he began placing little stickers on your temples, scalp face, chest and legs.

Both doctors were very nice and the small talk did help to pass the time while Halfdan was placing sensors on your body.

‘The main purpose of the study is to see what your brainwaves are up to when you go to sleep. If there is anything unusual then we can know what to focus on and see what tests need to be run on you. OK?’ he explained.

‘I understand, how long do I need to sleep?’

‘As long as you can, did you need any sleeping aids, I see it’s been prescribed to you.’

‘Not necessary, I’m ready to crash whenever you give me the go ahead Doc.’ you smiled.

‘Oh well don’t let me stop you, we are going to leave the room, the sensors are connected to a machine, we will monitor the room as well record video.’

‘What if I have to use the restroom? I guess I should have asked before you started.’

‘It is fine, we can disconnect you, all you have to do is let us know.’

‘Alright you are all set to go, we will leave you to it ma’am.’

The two men left and it only took you about thirty seconds to go to sleep.

******************************************************************* Ivar’s POV

The hospital was unusually quiet today, not empty by any means, but it seemed nothing horribly urgent had happened since he’d gotten here.

Every person that came in was calm and in good enough shape to explain why they were here and what they were feeling.

Of course that would be expected because this hospital was a bit out of the way, too far from the busy highways where most car accidents tend to happen.

There was also the fact that this was a very expensive hospital, with amazing security, top of the line technology and the best doctors you can get.

All of his surgeries had been done here, because on top of all those other great qualities this hospital assured each patient complete privacy. No matter who the patient was or how much money their secrets were worth.

Ivar was sitting there, in one of the uncommonly comfortable waiting room chairs, scrolling through social media on his phone when a sudden wave of lightheadedness hit him.

His vision blurred to the point where he had to sit his phone aside and shake his head in an effort to clear his head.

‘I see you Boneless.’

Ivar flinched at the sudden voice, but more than that he flinched at the name.

He looked up and what he saw was impossible, so very impossible that even the thought of it made him think that he was going mad.

There is no other explanation for what was sitting in the chair across from him.

It was himself.

His own face, slightly hidden behind a thick and graying beard, but all the same it was obviously his face. His eyes, nose and teeth...his face.

‘No.’ he breathed.

‘But yes, you wouldn’t believe what all had to be sacrificed for us to chat, and I’m sad to say that my being here is not good news.’

‘You aren’t here.’ Ivar whispered.

‘No, not really; neither are you, not completely. Neither of us can ever truly be anywhere until we are together. Until you accept that you are me, I did my part; I died...and I waited.’

‘Waited for what? For two teenagers to meet to clean up a mess you made thousands of years ago?’ he snapped angrily, barely managing to keep his voice down.

‘I didn’t want to do this, I saw no point in it. I was fully prepared to accept the punishment the Gods felt I deserved, but it wasn’t just me...and it isn’t just you. Everyone you love and care about, they are all being punished for my deeds, our deeds.’

‘Your deeds.’ Ivar spat.

‘Our...deeds.’

‘Ivar.’

This time Ivar jumped clean out of his chair, partially due to being so suddenly startled but mostly to look away from this thing with his face.

Herald was there and just the look on his face told him something was wrong; horribly wrong.

‘What happened?’

‘Helga is calling her mother now, Ivar I need you to be calm. I can see how much you care for her and I know you will worry, but losing your composure won’t help anything do you understand?’ Herald said seriously.

‘Tell me what happened.’ Ivar repeated quietly, almost certain he didn’t want the answer but he needed it all the same.

‘(Y/N) is brain dead.’

‘What? She was just here for a sleep study. What the hell happened?!’ Ivar hissed.

The hairs on the back of his neck was standing up and he couldn’t think of a time where he had been this scared.

‘We don’t know. I wouldn’t even be saying any of this to you if her mother hadn’t listed you as one of (Y/N)’s emergency contacts.’

‘Tell me!’ Ivar snapped.

Herald sighed in mild annoyance but his look remained professional.

‘Her vitals were excellent, no sleep aids were administered. Neither me or Halfdan can explain what happened, I was monitoring her on camera and he was watching her brainwaves. Out of nowhere the waves flat-line and she is seizing up.’

‘She had a seizure?’

‘Yes. A non epileptic seizure, but a seizure nonetheless; we had to risk sedating her before she hurt herself. I wish I could tell you something, anything to explain what went wrong, but I don’t know. I checked her for every physical condition I can think of as a medical doctor and there is nothing to see.’

Ivar was speechless, he didn’t know what to say, even if he did he wouldn’t trust his voice to say it without breaking.

‘When her mother arrives I will explain it to her and what happens next will be her decision.’

‘Can I see her?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes, but do not move her. We are not sure what is causing the problem and we won’t know until we can get her in a CAT scan.’

‘CAT scans, do you think it’s cancer?’ Ivar asked, his eyes wide and his heart filled with dread.

‘I can not say, even suggesting it with no test done I could lose my license. For right now I need you to keep calm while we try to figure out what exactly is happening.’

Ivar nodded in understanding, he listened to the room number and made his way there; all the while thinking about everything.

He thought about the imaginary creature that spoke to him in the waiting room.

“My being here is not good news” that’s what he said and he was right.

He remembered when he had first met her in the hallway; he couldn’t stop thinking about her in class, when he saw her at the table with his brothers he was happy to see her. Even happier that he liked her and saw her as a great friend.

A friend was something he’d never had before and he had thought this was why he wanted to keep her so close, but it wasn’t.

Ivar knew that now, he wouldn’t be this worried and concerned for a friend.

He loved (Y/N), he loved her and right now she was brain dead because of the actions of a dead man.

Because of his actions.

#ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarson #ivar imagine #modern!vikings #vinkings #vikings imagine #Find us Series #find us

77 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Ticket Please?

Summary- 4.2k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun!

Warnings- Blood/Gore, brutal killings, swears.

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. This is a 3 chapter story that will be posted within a few days of one another. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃

“What do you mean Bryce that you can’t come? You promised you would! When is New York State ever going to open Rose Red to be explored like this again Bryce?” You spoke into your cell phone while looking in the mirror, currently doing a french braid to keep your hair out of your face. Your expression reflected back at you was a mixture of fury and disbelief. You had only been talking about this charity for 6 months, and here was your boyfriend backing out after he’d promised to come with you numerous times.

“Something came up with Maya, okay? You know my sister can’t do anything without fucking it up. Besides it's just a house”

“Bryce, don’t talk about your sister that way.” You sighed exasperatedly before your voice dropped slightly conveying your disappointment “And it's not just a house, it's just the most haunted manor and grounds in New York. They had it condemned supposedly just for that reason! You really can’t come?”

“You know that shit isn't real. Sorry Baby, but why don’t you take one of your friends? How about that Karen chick?”

You gave a sigh and roll of the eyes, Bryce never bothered to get to know any of your friends, not like you did with his friends. “You mean Stacey? Her name isn’t Karen.”

“Well, she’s like a Karen.” He retorted with a condescending tone.

“Whatever Bryce, I’m hanging up now.” you snapped out, he was being an ass especially considering this entire night had actually started out as a treat to him from you.

“Hey, Hey, I was kidding. Take Stacey. You know I wouldn’t be any fun, I never liked Snowpiercer, remember?”

“That’s not the point Bryce…” you sighed again.

“Look, go have fun with Stacey, and tomorrow morning I will pick you up, we can go for a drive down the coast, just the two of us. Maybe have a long weekend in Hampton. How does that sound? I will even take you to that hotel you like. That one right on the beach with the view we stayed at last summer. We had fun there, didn’t we Sweetness.” now his tone was a hint of teasing and promise, and although you were still mad that he ditched you again, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest that he was trying to make it right.

You bit your lip remembering, it had been a fantastic vacation, and Bryce really showed you a good time without ever having to leave the room. At your silence he gave a chuckle of triumph. “That’s what I thought, I'm gonna call them right now. Have fun tonight baby.”

“Okay, but you better be here bright and early Bryce. Love-” Before you could even say the words, he hung up, and you hit the end call button, trying to get over the feeling of disappointment before you called Stacey. You could already hear what she would say, but as your best friend, she would be there. She always was. Dialing her number, you pulled out the tickets from your purse, allowing yourself a smile.

What could you say, you were a fangirl. Snowpiercer was such an intricate dark story, you had fallen in love with it the first time you watched it on Netflix. So when Bryce mentioned his grandfather was helping sponsor a haunted house charity at the town's resident creepy manor, and it was featuring several film sets. Including none other than Snowpiercer, you just had to have all the details. It even went as far as Bryce having his grandfather putting in a good word of how much of a fan you were to get you in. You scrimped and saved, Bryce as well helped you with paying for the tickets. You had really wanted to do this with him too. No, he didn’t share your love for the story, but he was your boyfriend and Halloween was your favorite holiday. It was something you two could have shared.

Oh well, next year we will do what he wants to do, you thought to yourself waiting for Stacey to pick up her phone.

A familiar voice answered, jerking you from your thoughts. “What’s up? I thought you would have already left for the charity function?” Stacey questioned.

“Slight change of plans, something came up with Maya, and Bryce can’t make it.”

“Big surprise.” the answer made you wince, cause this wasn’t the first time you called Stacey about Bryce. “You want some company? I can be ready by the time you get here?”

“Please?” you already had your purse over your shoulder and were heading out the door as she answered.

“Don’t worry girl, I got you. See you in a few.”

The line to get into the grounds was long, cars piled up as the two of you pulled to a stop. Stacey leaned forward to look out the windshield, giving a soft whistle. “Damn, they pulled out all the stops for this charity, didn’t they? Isn’t that the Rose Red Manor?”

“Yea, they were able to get it for the night from the Governor. Pretty crazy since this place has been condemned, they were supposed to demolish it back when Ellen Rimbauer’s grandson sold it to New York. You know the stories here, don’t you? Men die, Women disappear never to be seen again. The house somehow has random room built on out of nowhere. No one actually knows how many rooms Rose Red has, and the grounds are much larger then the records state.” You let your foot off the brake, easing forward.

“Shut up, that’s not true.” Stacey gave a shudder and you laughed, winking in a teasing manner. “How does a house keep getting bigger? I say bullshit.”

“It’s all just for spooks, the place is safe or else they wouldn’t let us on the grounds.”

“If I die Y/N, I’m haunting you.” Stacey jibed back, pulling up to the concession stand, and you rolled down your window.

“How many, and what set are you here to visit?” a tired voice sounded at you while you pulled the tickets out of your purse and handed them out the window.

“2, for the Snowpiercer, Curtis Everett set.”

The redhead took your tickets, her green eyes flickering to check them before she gave a slight smirk of perfectly painted ruby lips. She leaned forward, to look into the car. “Curtis Everett you say? A personal favorite of mine, the set reminds me a bit of home.” Your eyes flickered to her name tag, reading Natasha Romanoff, it sounded Russian, where it is assumed the train derailed at the end of the film. “Curtis is a bit intimidating, but don’t get scared, it's all a part of the show.” She stamped your tickets and collected bracelets, handing them back to you which you and Stacey both snapped onto your wrists. “Enjoy, and make sure you have those tickets on you. The Wilford on set will be looking to collect them. Bozhe, pomiluy tebya.” God have mercy on you.

Your brows came together in confusion at the foreign launguage and gave a nod. “Thanks?”

The woman smiled and snapped her window shut, ending the conversation. Pulling the car away to continue to park, Stacy wrinkled her nose. “What was that about?”

“You got me. I don’t even know what language that was, I’m guessing Russian?” You watch and follow the people directing you to park and are soon in your designated spot. “Whatever, you ready?” The uneasiness slipped away as you got excited, cause lets face it, Curtis Everett had been a crush for you since you saw the movie. And now you were going to see him, well the actor in the role, once again. From what you could tell this charity was an a-list kind of deal, cause after hours of scouring online, you found nothing talking about Chris Evans doing this function. Maybe Bryce was good for something, you thought as you got out of the car, and then chided yourself for being so cruel to your boyfriend. After all, if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be seeing Curtis or the Snowpiercer set. While you two were walking, apparently the last ones in the queue, you pulled out your phone to send him a message.

Hey, Stacey, and I just got here. Miss you and Love you.

It wasn’t even a few minutes till your phone pinged back

Have a good time and don’t get too scared.

Smiling to yourself at the glowing screen, you stuffed your phone back in your purse and proceeded towards the front where you showed your bracelets.

“Ahh Snowpiercer, you actually go around back. Follow me.” Your host said as he led you around the side of the building, away from the last of the people disappearing inside.

“We're not going into the house?” you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the idea, it was supposedly one of the most famous haunted houses in New York State. The well-dressed host turned, looking at you for a moment before putting on a suave smile.

“Since you are special guests, I’ll wait for you after your tour with Curtis Everett on Snowpiercer. Give you a proper tour of Rose Red. But I assure you, that you’re in for a better treat, this is a truly exclusive walk though as hardly anyone gets to explore this much of Rose Red. Did you know that Ellen Rimbauer also had a private train on the grounds? It’s not documented as extensively as the house is, but many strange occurrences have happened here as well. It’s rumored that a single match light can be seen running up and down the aisles. Workers will be glimpsed from the corner of your eye in the darkest shadows. The ones that have visited the train claim to feel extensive chills, and in the engine, ramblings and whispers of madness can be heard. Most assume it's the conductor, looking for his replacement.” Your host continued, while out of the darkness a massive ominous train loomed, vines all over it, and it almost had a skeletal appearance as windows were busted out of it, and it looked pitch black in all the openings.

“The workers used the train to bring in materials from the harbor to the construction site. And in 1903, a riot happened on the train, the crew claimed that they weren’t being compensated for the conditions, and they demanded better wages. When W. Rimbauer refused them, they put a stop to the train for good. Resulting in many deaths.” Your host led you to the front car, in which a pale man stood with a lantern and a single red rose he was twirling in his fingers, and upon seeing the trio of you, he promptly slipped the delicate flower into his robe and smoothed down his outfit. Giving a wave, he stepped down and you noticed that oddly he was wearing what looked like a luxurious robe, his bald head shining in the glow of the lamp. The more you studied him, the more you thought he looked exactly like Ed Harris in his Wilford role. You were about to ask, when he interrupted you with his own question to the host.

“Blackwood, this the Curtis couple? We were a bit worried you wouldn’t show up tonight. Which is a shame, as Curtis has been waiting for you.” He seemed to direct his answer solely at you, his pale blue eyes glinting gleefully at you, it was the only way you could describe it, but they still sent a shiver down your back. Ed Harris or not, he was a good Wilford, you thought to yourself as you tried not to let his act give you the creeps. Stacey pulled in closer to you, hooking her arm through yours and whispering.

“You sure we should go on this train? It’s pretty fucking creepy back here. And where is everyone else?”

Blackwood cleared his throat with a smile. “Now ladies, the Curtis scene was very exclusive. In fact, only you two were able to get tickets. Seeing how it’s away from the main house. But I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Wilford here as I must return for the next group. I will be back soon to give you a house tour afterward. You ladies enjoy the fully immersed experience.”

Your host left you with Wilford, who lifted his lamp to show a path that led down the side of the train. “It’s just a way down here, Curtis will meet you inside, and take you on the tour of Snowpiercer. Now, remember, he will not be breaking character as is per his instructions. We want this to be as authentic as possible.”

You and Stacey follow along behind his seemingly smooth stride, both of you tripping up a bit although Wilford seemed to have no issues with the uneven ground. Both of you were panting a bit when he came to a stop, and held a hand up to a ladder, leading into the darkest opening you’ve ever seen.

“There are no lights inside?” You drawled out and Stacey braced her hand against the train to catch her breath.

“How the hell are we supposed to see? And climb in with heels? No one told us that this was going to be an expedition just to see a movie set.” the woman snapped out, and Wilford turned that gaze from you to Stacey, giving a cold smile.

“It will all come on once you're inside, everything is in its preordained place in Snowpiercer and we are allowing you to really see it all come to life. But before you two go on, can I have your tickets please? No one goes onto the snowpiercer without one.” His grin turned eerie in the shadows on the lantern he had brought with him, and you were quick to look away from it,

Fuck he is weird. You shudder, while searching your bag and handing over both tickets. He immediately put them in his robe and held the lantern up so you could see a bit better to get inside. Grasping the ladder, you start to climb in, Stacey following right behind, holding onto the back of your shirt. One you stumbled in, and Stacey did too, you both turned to look back out, expecting Wilford to follow you in, but the door slammed shut, and a shudder went through the train, hard enough so you both yelped, falling into each other.

“Y/N! What the fuck is this? We have to get out of here.” You could feel Stacey digging into your arms in a panic, and you stumbled back to where the door was, your hands slamming against freezing cold metal, your palms pounding on the vibrating metal.

“Why is it vibrating? WHY IS THE TRAIN MOVING?” You started to yell, and Stacey moved up next to you, also slamming her palms against the metal walls. Blinding light made you both yelp and cover your eyes, stumbling to land in a heap when you pulled your arm away from your face, blinking to get your pupils to focus. It was an empty train cart, windows that appeared to be filled with bright natural light lined the walls, and at each end, metal doors that have yet to be opened. Stacey takes the first tentative moves to stand up, pulling herself to look out a window and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“What is it?” You ask as you start to push yourself up to a stand, and she shakes her head as if to shake whatever she was seeing away, muttering over and over.

“What the fuck?”

You make your way over, and all you can see is snow. Snow and ice, speeding past like this train were actually able to run on a track. Buildings encased in snow, making way to nothing but white, everywhere. Even the windows had frost encasing around the edges, your breaths fogging the glass.

“How? What?” you question, beyond confused and rubbing at your face to look again. How the hell could this be? You go to reach in your bag for your phone, and look down to see it is gone. And not just your phone, your bag. Scanning the train, there was no sign of it. Panic settled in a little more now that you didn't have a way to call for help should you need it.

Stacey pressed her fingers to the glass, her tone a bit shrill as if she was trying to convince herself it was make believe. “Gotta be like we're watching a screen right? Just supposed to look like the trains moving.” Although the train gave another shudder, swaying back and forth.

You never got an answer, as one end the doors swung open and people wearing all black spilled into the train, all carrying axes, faces masked so you couldn’t see anything discernible about them. Except for flashing teeth among happy grins. Each one hefting their ax like it was a toy. Your confused addled brain screamed at you to pay attention. Danger. But you were in too much of a shock to really focus.

Another whoosh and you spin around to see who was coming out the other side, Stacey whimpering in fear next to you, still staring at the first group. But your eyes raked over these men, dirty and worn looking. The one in front had a wide stance, his feet braced against the rocking of the train like he was familiar with it. A black trench coat swept around him, ragged sweaters piled over a broad chest and your gaze fell onto a familiar hard face, scanning his opponent, drawing himself into a more fighting stance. Curtis Everett.

“Oh shit” it dawns on you what scene this was and you draw Stacey closer to you, and back against a wall.

“What? Oh god, I don’t understand what is happening.” Stacey said in a panicked voice, and you shook her a bit.

“I don’t know either, but stay out of everyone’s way, okay? Those axes are not fakes!” The weapons they held were clearly not props, the heavy blade handles slapped in palms, and gleamed in the winter sun streaming through the windows. A touch would easily slice into anything. And these two groups look ready to hack into each other.

“Shouldn’t they help us get out?” Stacey’s eyes rolled wildly, and you gulped, seeing the large trout get passed up, and just as you guessed, the ax easily sliced into the fish’s flesh, drizzling blood down to see along the edge, dripping down the handle and to the floor.

“I don't think so Stace…” You whipped back to look at the opposing group, feeling Curtis’s gaze seeking yours with a glimmer of hatred and confusion behind them. For half a second, then it was back on their enemies. You could see it, the taunting lunges each group made, and just when they both broke for each other, you screamed and yanked Stacey down onto the ground as they all collided. Attempting to avoid stomping feet and falling blades, you two tried to stick to the wall, screaming and covering your heads, blood splattering everywhere above you in hot sticky sprays that rained down on your two.

Stacey wouldn’t stop screaming, her voice piercing above the noise of the fighting, bodies started to litter the floor, and you tried to make your way towards one of the exits, your hands and knees slipping in warm fluid. Over bodies you dragged yourself when Stacey’s screaming changed to one of pain and panic. Looking over your shoulder, she was getting dragged away by her ankles, her fingers trying to find a hold in the floor, nails raking through the blood to create long rakes through all the red.

“Y/N! Y/N! Help!” she continued to scream, and you twisted to go back for her when she was whipped to her back and her arms came up in defense, trying to cover her face or neck.

“No!”

Whump! This is when you lost all your control and started to scramble back for her. There was so much screaming and you never realized it was coming from you.

Whump! The ax planted in Stacey’s chest and she jerked upwards, trying to push the blade away, and the militants foot planted on her stomach, yanking her loose. You would still see her moving, still alive. You were closer.

Whump! this one landed on her skull, blonde hair turning stringy red and his boot planted on her face this time, crushing in her forehead and nose as he yanked it out, once more red spray flew through the air.

Several whacks fell on her, over and over, spraying you with each yank the axe gave off Stacey's body, the militant man grinning as her blood sprayed all over him, you, any nearby person.

You were in shock, your hands to your mouth, as you saw Stacy's body collapse into broken pieces, blood spurting out of her mouth and she went limp right in front of you. His gaze fell to you and his wide bloody grin looked like he just won the prize, his axe lifting when he was suddenly thrown back and slaughtered himself. You didn't pay attention to who took him out, only catching sight of a whipping coat snapping in the person's actions, you turned towards your best friend's body, convinced she might still be alive. This was all just for fun, pretend after all, right? Snowpiercer and the Revolution did not exist.

“Sss-Stacey?” you crawled over to her, your hands cupping her broken face and leaning over her still warm form, doing your best to hold what remained of her face together, as if you could just piece it back together like a puzzle. You kept shaking her, although she had several gaping holes in her body.

“Come on Stacey, we got to move.” you sobbed over her, unaware once more of what was going on.

You didn’t notice the fighting stop or the survivors rush to look out the windows in a panic, but you did feel a hand yank the back of your shirt to slam you into the wall and keep you pinned in place. Even as you struggled to get back to Stacey’s body, lying lifeless. You didn’t notice any of these things till a growl snarled in your ear. “Girl, stop it! What’s wrong with you?” A vicious shake thudded your head against the wall, and the crack against the back of your skull made your eyes roll back in pain. The world tipped upside down, Curtis’s scowling cut face tipped around, and you went under, the blackness welcomed from the hell you just experienced.

“Hey Curtis, she’s awake.” was the first thing you heard, your head pounding and when you started to pry your lids open, figures were blurry, moving around, flashes of light blinding you till they were blocked back out by bodies. You gave a moan and lifted your hand to your face when the larger one slapped it away, and the cold slick hand grasped your throat, dragging you forward. “Focus Bitch, we don’t have all day.” Your eyes snapped obediently to Curtis, fearful and wide-eyed as you took him in.

In the movie, he was large, towering over others. Here, as he was staring you down, face contorted to semi-controlled rage, and leaning over you so you could feel his hot breath wash over his face, how the blood dried to crack along his cheek, and eyes that you swore were debating snapping your neck.

“I don’t understand what is going-”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not asking questions here. Wilford sent you?”

“Wilford? Yes, yes.” You stutter, his fingers squeeze further and you can feel the hot tears streaming down your face, landing on his filthy hands. “He put Stacey and I in here, m-m-my friend. She was…” Your eyes rolled to where her body was twisted strangely, smeared in gore from where she slid around, or someone tripped over her. All you knew is her eyes started up at nothing now. Her wounds were gaping and bled out.

Curtis gave you a shake, his snarl brought you back to him. “She was what? What did Wilford send you two back here for?”

“We were here for a charity! I was supposed to meet Chris Evans, You as Curtis Everett.” your voice started to rise in a panic, your hands grasping his wrist at your neck. “That’s it, why is the train moving? Why are you all using real axes, fuck I just want to get off.” You sobbed, the survivors looked at you with disgust, shaking their heads.

“Once you’re on the Snowpiercer, there is no getting off.” Curtis leaned back a bit, looking you up and down as if inspecting you curiously. “You’re such a fragile little thing. Just like a baby bird, all brittle bones and helpless.”

“No getting off? What are you even talking about?” your tears started to sting your eyes, the panic settling deep in your chest like your heart was about to explode.

Curtis ignored your question, his free hand tugging at your thin sweater and shaking his head. “Fucker didn’t even send you back here properly dressed.”

You tried to struggle and Curtis slammed you back hard enough to make you stop.

“She’s fucking whacked out of her gourd. Gotta be a kronole head someone spouting that shit.” A young man said behind Curtis, and he got in your face, tapping your cheek smartly. “Girl snap out of it, that shite fucking rotted your brain.”

“No Edgar, this is different, she's lying. Good at it, but lying.” Curtis made to stand, dragging you up with him. You stumble in his hold, falling against his body before he dragged you along, hissing in your ear.

“I don’t know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.”

#jshauntedhouse2020 #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #snowpiercer #curtis everett fanfic #snowpiercer fanfic #dark curtis everett #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween 2020 #halloween #fanfic

217 notes · View notes

malfoyfarms · 4 years

Text

St. Christopher

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2

Triggers: drowning, domestic abuse/violence, regular violence, alcoholism, manipulation

A/N: hi lovelies, this was written for you because my page hit 350+ followers and “Sleepy Girl” received over 2,100 notes <3 u all

Christopher was a man who carried a child for many many miles even as the child grew heavy, never giving up. This man became a saint, and his image was plastered across items worn by travelers in all forms. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, pins, sashes and even clothing.

The tales of St. Christopher necklaces were told in your family for ages. All surfers and adventurers who wore those necklaces were protected, always returning home. You wore one, both your parents wore one, and your grandfather wore one as well. It had become a right of passage, one that you intended to carry on with your children as well.

You were on your way to meet JJ at one of the abandoned lookouts on the island, nervous as all can be. The blonde boy had been in your life for a while now, and had been your boyfriend for almost ten months. Your grandfather had brought up the idea of giving JJ a St. Christopher necklace, as he had become part of the family.

‘Pumpkin, I see the way he looks at you. That’s the same way I looked at your grandmother.’ Those words echoed over and over in your head. The wise man had always been your favorite, and when he suggested it, there was no way you could disagree. You had saved up enough money over the course of the next several weeks and went with the old gentleman to the mainland to pick out a pendant for your boyfriend. At that moment in time you thought the hardest task would be picking out the jewelry, but now you realized explaining the family history and actually passing over the necklace was the hardest part.

The pendant itself was silver with a gray-blue border, with a long leather chain, knowing JJ wouldn’t like the metal look. Something silly about it looking too kook-ish. The colored rim complemented your own peach hued one.

You saw the love of your life standing at the edge of the cliff, looking out into the ocean. You took a minute to regain composure and breathe. The leather chain was weaved into your now clammy hand, the pendant leaving an impression on your palm.

“Hey J, I’m glad you made it,” he turned around to greet you.

“You said it was important, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” A smile spread across your face, appreciating how considerate he could be.

He could tell you were nervous. The shifting of weight from leg to leg, avoiding eye contact, and most importantly, the hiding of hands behind your back. You plopped down next to him, feet dangling off the edge just as he did.

“Alright, spill, you look like you’re going to explode,” he chuckled. You looked up with nervous eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t run away when he realized what the token meant.

“So, you know how in my family we have the tradition of the St. Christopher necklace? Well, it’s like a right of passage, or an induction I guess to our family itself.” As you rambled JJ went into thought. He had heard many stories from your grandpa about how he believed the spirit had saved him. “And I was talking with Papa about mine, when he said that it’s time that I gave you one.”

With that last statement, you jutted your right hand forward, opening your palm to present him with the necklace. A blank expression washed over his face as he looked at the object.

“I figured since adventurers and surfers tend to wear them, you being both, it would keep you safe. Especially now that we’re on some treasure hunt,” you spoke as you looked away.

JJ gently took the charm out of your palm and placed it on his neck, lying just below the shark tooth. He smiled, looking into your eyes. The gray-blue that lined the man’s imprint matched is eyes.

“Is this your formal way of accepting me into your family?” He asked. You simply nodded, pulling him to kiss your lips.

Over the next few months the tale around the necklace seemed to have proved its purpose.

~~~

When John B proposed the idea of surfing the surge there was no way JJ could decline. With the rare amount of storms, the thought of multiple good waves was too appealing. Of course you would have loved to join the duo, but you were out cold on JJ’s bed at the chateau. He just couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.

They made their way to the beach, dropping all their stuff on the sand and taking off towards the water. The waves were angry, almost as if they were trying to knock the boys off their boards. JJ being the daring bastard he is, he kept going out farther from the shore each time.

“Dude, be careful, it's getting really rough out here!” John B yelled out to his friend. JJ simply ignored him and kept swimming.

Once he was satisfied with his location, he turned around ready to ride the wave back to shore. The surf didn’t go as planned as he was quickly knocked off the board by a huge gust of wind and spray.

He felt his body scrape the ocean floor, while the current kept him tumbling like dirty clothes. No matter how hard he tried to swim up, he was sloshed around underneath. JJ could feel his lungs burning, dying for air.

During JJ’s fight to resurface, John B sat at the edge of the beach looking for his blonde friend. He began to panic when his board washed back to shore without its owner. Trying to explain to you how he lost your boyfriend in a surge was going to be a nightmare. How would he tell you? ‘Oh hey Y/n, I uh, couldn’t find JJ after he went down in the surge.’ That was definitely not going to cut it.

Next thing he knew JJ was washed up, coughing with a slight gash above his eyebrow, two yards away from his board. Relief and color flooded JB’s face.

“Dude, thank god you’re alive. We’re done for the day.” JJ simply nodded as they made their way back to the Chateau.

You hadn’t woken up yet, still in a deep sleep, when the two entered the house once again. They quickly agreed not to tell you about the little incident that had just occurred, and go take a nap.

As JJ peeled off his wet bottoms and replaced them with sweatpants, he noticed the pendant on his neck. St. Christopher. He owed the legend big time. He turned to you, chuckling at how you slept. He tried to squeeze in around your body, but since you currently resembled a crumpled piece of paper, he lifted you up a tad to allow him to slip next to you. You barely woke up, but you stirred enough to realize who was underneath you. Your fingers brushed his necklace and you instantly nuzzled to the boy next to you.

~~~

The second time the necklace seemed to be looking out for JJ was when he had a run in with his father. JJ had loudly stumbled into the house, causing Luke to wake up. The man’s footsteps came barreling through the house to meet the intruder. When he saw it was his son, he was livid.

The alcohol induced rage made Luke only see red. He littered blow after blow to his son, not hearing the screams coming out of JJ’s mouth.

“You stupid motherfucker, coming into my house, loud as all can be, especially when I have to work tomorrow,” JJ knew working was a lie, his father gambled on Tuesdays. “I do nothing but provide for your lazy ass and this is how you repay me?”

JJ prepared himself for another kick or punch or slap, but it never came. He opened his eyes to see his father lying on the ground.

He quickly picked himself up, grabbed a few things from his room and exited the house, making his way back to the chateau. The entire walk back he played with the necklace he had removed from his neck. The cold metal in his hand was the only thing keeping him semi-relaxed as he made his way to your house.

He bound through the front door, marching directly to your room, catching you off guard as you were reading a book. The marks that tracked his body were fresh, and so was the emotional turmoil. JJ threw himself on to your bed, dying to find comfort in something that smelled like you.

You tended to his physical and emotional wounds as best as you could, desperately trying to provide as much security as you could. The boy looked so young and vulnerable as his wet hair clung to his face and he was wrapped in a quilt. You held him close to your chest, swaying gently.

“He brought me home,” his voice crackled. You let out a noise of confusion. “St. Christopher, he brought me home. Maybe not scratch-free, but he made sure I made it.”

The size of your heart had grown four times in size. The small necklace was wrapped around his hand, sitting in between his pointer and middle finger.

“St. Christopher knows right where you belong.”

~~~

The third, and hopefully not last, time St. Christopher had brought JJ back to you was the most defining.

Each pogue member had their own intricate tasks on how to get John B and Sarah off the island, your’s being a distraction for the police force. The only specific detail you had to follow was the timing. You needed to capture an audience after dark when the lovers would try to exit island waters. The larger the distraction the better, but you may have overdid it this time.

While JJ, Kie and Pope had been prepping the boat all day for the escape, you had been wandering the island looking for trouble. Within the time period of you being MIA, you managed to stumble upon Rafe Cameron looking as cracked out as ever. Bingo, you thought, time to light the fuse.

Walking up to Rafe, you began to pester him. Talking about Sarah, cocaine, and how his dad wasn’t happy that he killed the Sheriff. Telling him he never would live up to the kook expectations. You tried to pull out every card you could to infuriate him.

Now, hours later, and many many provoking conversations with Rafe later, it was dark and your time to shine, or die.

The police officers were trying to negotiate with Sarah and John B, but were at a complete halt when they saw you were being held with a knife to your throat. You were bloodied and cut as his knife hadn’t been an empty threat

“If-if you don’t stop all of this nonsense about finding my sister, I-I will slit her throat,” Rafe screamed.

The attention attracted the cameras, Ward, all the deputies and even your friends who were waiting in the tent next to the police. Your panicked face had everyone forgetting about the two escapees.

“Rafe, son, please put the knife down,” Ward tried to coax him. You instantly felt the blade tighten against your throat. Tears ran down your face, small cries floated from your lips. Rafe’s dirty fingernails dug into your hips causing you to drop to one side in pain.

“NO! She knows the truth Dad! We need to silence her! I managed to capture her, aren’t you proud Dad?” You pressed your head back into him, trying to get away from the knife, but that action had backfired. He pressed his face against yours, getting spit and tears on your cheek.

Something must have clicked in Ward’s head because his next statement saved your life. “Of course Rafe, I’m so proud of you.”

As you dropped to the ground, you were surrounded by an officer, carrying you over to the group of kids who you loved most of all. You could only pick out one voice though, JJ.

“Y/n, don’t you ever do that again!” he scolded while pulling you against his body. “I can’t lose JB and you on the same night.”

You gently giggled against his chest, trying to stop the tears and from flowing. You were too happy to be pressed up against his chest, smelling the faint scent of weed, deodorant and salt.

“Don’t be mad, I had to go that far, it was the only way,” you wailed. The grip on you tightened as you felt Kiara and Pope hug you as well.

It was hours after your parents and grandpa had come to retrieve you and JJ from the beach, and the two of you laid in your bed, refusing to be further than three feet away. Your stomach was pressed against JJ’s as you ran your fingers around his collar bone. His lips sat on the crown of your forehead.

You broke the silence with words that echoed JJ’s from a few months before. “I did it because I knew he would bring me home to you. No matter how big the adventure, he’d bring me home. One day he’ll bring us home to our biggest adventure, but today was not the day. He knew we were still needed.”

407 notes · View notes

gamerdamemedia · 3 years

Text

Test Case

So, for a couple weeks now I made a fatal mistake for all fanfic writers: I watched something different that inspired a story idea, & I haven’t been able to get it out of my head & distracting me from other things. So, as I write to exorcise ideas from my head to make space, I decided to put pen to paper this afternoon... or fingers to keyboard, I guess, & write some of it out. Not sure I’ll actually ever share it, as it might stay just my personal pet project, but I figured I could at least share the start. Even writers needs a little side project just for their own enjoyment. Now that studying is done & I’m back from vacation, hopefully I can get back to some regular schedule. I’ve been out of sorts during this crunch time before the big test.

In the grand scheme of the cosmos, freezing to death while drifting along the Etherium wasn't the worst way to go. She could think of many worse ways to die after being spaced. She could fall into the vacuum of space and suffocate, or stray too close to a star and get pulled in by its gravitational force to burn up, sucked into a black hole, or starve (or more likely die from dehydration). But it seemed fate had seen fit to deal her a slightly kinder hand. A hand that still said she was screwed, but only in the gentlest way. With fancy silk sheets and plenty of lubrication.

She would've laughed, but that would exacerbate the splitting headache she already had, so she settled for a chuff. Clearly the delirium of losing core body heat was setting in.

It seemed a rather appropriate bookend to her story, short though it may be. Fitting that her last memory should be bobbing freely along the Etherium waves to wherever they deigned to take her, as it was also her earliest. Gazing up at the endless, twinkling abyss, she could almost imagine the hard wooden deck of her grandfather's old longboat beneath her back. Or maybe the rough fabric of his overalls, with the button that always seemed to poke her in her shoulder blade as she reclined against his portly torso. She smiled to herself then. That's a nice thought, she said to herself, letting her head drift back, supported by nothing but the lack of gravity. It was almost enough to fight off the creeping chill that raced ahead of the numbness as her limbs stopped receiving vital blood. She'd always ridden the waves as they came, be them Etherium or fate, letting them take her where they willed. Why should the end be any different? "A man's heart devises his way, but fate directs his steps," her grandfather would say. Smart man, for just a farmer.

The irony wasn't lost on her, even as her brain began to sluggishly flit around poorly connected thoughts. The woman who always had an escape plan, always left a way out... Lady Luck had robbed her of her one vice. Not that she hadn't tried. It was getting out that had landed her in this situation in the first place. She'd booked passage on a small transport ship out of the Calyn Abyss to... actually, she didn't remember where the vessel was enroute to. Away, was all that mattered. A deal had turned particularly sour, and she needed to disappear in hurry. With enough money in the right hands and a vessel about to pull out of port, nobody asked questions. She'd stepped onto that dock as Absence, and left as Tammy Righte.

Things had been going well, until a bit of turbulence from a passing comet had caused some sort of electrical malfunction. As the transport rocked and swayed, the occupants had tied their lifelines, hoping to ride out the waves. That was when everything started blowing. Something must've shorted, creating a fire below deck. She remembered people screaming as the deck shook. A particularly violent blast caused the ship to tilt and lurch, bucking like a mad bonzabeast, throwing her from the deck. She remembered feeling weightless as she escaped the protective sphere of the ship's artificial gravity. The last thing she remembered was something metallic from the ship hitting her squarely in the face before blacking out.

When she woke an unknown amount of time later, she found herself adrift in space, far from anything to save herself with. Her face ached something fierce, and she'd touched it to feel blood. Without gravity, it couldn't really pour, but she felt it oozing with each pounding pulse of her heart, trickling along her face whenever she turned her head.

Despite the name, one couldn't swim through Etherium currents like water. You went wherever they took you. The knock from the ship had sent her essentially careening through space, and she'd keep going that way thanks to the lack of friction unless something intervened. Not wanting to die, as any warm-blooded being wouldn't, she'd tried to find some way to stop or change her course. But she wasn't near anything. Eventually, hypothermia started to set in, and her limbs became too leaden to move. At that point, she'd resigned herself to her fate. Why die tired?

She reached up a hand to wipe the blood trickling in the corner of her eye, but her aim was sloppy due to not being able to feel her hands anymore. Don't spend your last moments thinking about such things, she told herself. Shouldn't her last moments be happy?

Relaxing back into the Etherium, she went back to imagining herself on her grandfather's boat, bobbing along. They'd spent many a'night floating aimlessly in the sky, the green plains of her home rolling peacefully below them in the breeze. As a little girl, she would sometimes lean out over the side of the longboat, so far her grandfather would have to pull her back to stop her from falling. She'd giggle as he tickled her, tucking her safely to his chest. "Tryin' to fly away, little bird?" he'd ask. "Ya' too young for that, yet." Some nights, if the weather was clear, he'd teach her about the different stars and planets. He'd tell her tales about his brief stint in the Navy, or some adventure from his wild youth-- sometimes they'd even be true! Other times, they'd fall asleep drifting, only to wake up in some random place and go on an "adventure" to get back home. Basic navigational and map-reading skills were an essential pick up. He liked to pretend he was teaching her, but she knew better. Man couldn't find his way out of room with a single door some days.

Her favorite nights, though, were when he'd pull out his old harmonica and play for her. On particularly clear, cool nights like this, his tune would be slow, the notes dragging on for long periods before warbling, bobbing like the waves. She always felt like she was rising and falling in time with the tune. Her hand came up to rest on her breast pocket. Despite not having feeling in her fingers anymore, she knew the harmonica was still safe within. She felt its outline pressing into her chest. Briefly, she thought to take it out and play one final song on the old instrument in memorial, but with her hands as they were, she wouldn't be able to play. And she didn't want to lose it. So, she settled for letting her hand rest there, taking comfort in its presence over her heart.

Everything felt heavy now, to the point she almost expected to start sinking. The organ beneath her hand was beginning to slow as it lost the fight to keep her warm. Non-vital organs would start shutting down soon.

She forced her mind back to more times with her grandfather, this time on land. "Don't think you're too good to put your hands to hard work, little bird," he'd tell her... usually while making her do something around the farm he didn't want to do. Chasing down some ornery creature that didn't want to be hemmed up, most likely. Or time spent fishing at Mrs. Neelie's pond. She didn't actually like to fish, didn't have the patience for it, but she always went to watch him. She swore, her grandfather could be in the middle of an ocean, miles from anything else, and still manage to get snagged on something. Or there was the time he tripped coming down the hill and nearly knocked old Mrs. Neelie into the pond. She'd had to sit down, she'd laughed so hard. "Go ahead, laugh at the old man," he’d warned her.

Her laughter melded into a sob at the end, lips pulled back in a grimace. The stars around her shined even brighter in the light of her tears stuck to her lashes. She felt her lower lip wobble. No one was around, what was the point? She allowed herself to cry, flailing in impotent rage. "I don't want to die!" she shouted to the heavens. Maybe this close, someone would actually hear her and take pity.

There would be no one to mourn her, no one to even report her missing. Absence would be hunted for a while until her pursuers gave up and cut their losses. Tammy Righte would be listed as death in absentia, another sad statistic. All her other alias would only be missed when a contact tried to reach her for something, but swiftly forgotten as they looked elsewhere for someone to do their dirty work. Her more frequent clients might wonder, but it would be a passing question, like the fate of a childhood schoolmate. She'd ghosted through life, taking different names along the way. She went through names like normal people went through clothes: you pick one as needs demand, it gets a little too dirty, discard it and pick out a new one. So many names and alias and identities. Her real name safely locked away.

There was no one left who knew who she really was.

The brief burst of indignation warmed her a little, but the almost absolute zero temperature of space just as quickly sapped it from her, the cold once again cradling her in its loving embrace. Fear threatened to creep up faster than the cold. She'd never been the religious sort. She didn't know if there was anything after this. But if there was, she was sure she'd be going to same place as her grandfather, and that thought offered some bittersweet comfort. Likely not heaven, but if he was there that would be heaven enough. She wrapped her arms around herself as best she could, imagining it was the warm embrace of her grandfather. Droplets floated up from her lashes as she smiled. She'd held his hand when he died, a smile on his face. She kinda wished she had someone to hold her hand, now. "Meet me at the bar, old man," she whispered. "I'm buying this time." Then she closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift to happier times as the cold, gentle embrace of death shrouded her.

#writing #side project #pilot #curious if anyone will know what this is even from #fiction #fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 4 years

Text

Snips

Chapter 3 of Dark Temptations

A/N- I really love how this chapter turned out! I’m so excited to continue this series!! I really am loving how it’s turning out :) hope you all like it too! :) also you can’t tell me Luke wouldn’t be the softest dad. Because he would! Let me know what you thought?!

Warning- swearing, angst, slow burn, long chapter, slight violence

Pairing- Dark!Poe x Skywalker!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“Hey, Snips.”

A smile grows on your lips at the sound of the soft and familiar voice greeting you, at the incredibly strong and positive force that surrounded you, vibrating off like calm waves from one single person.

Your eyes drifted up to see her striped montrals come to view first, before you sat up and took in her whole ghostly being. Noticing the same, familiar warm grin plastered on her gentle and orange features. Showing that even if she was a ghost, that one could look so lively. Glowing with a happiness that was yet to be matched by any living person. While her eyes shone a brighter and deeper blue than that blue hue that permanently surrounded her whole being.

Your grin widened and you instantly matched her soft and excited tone; “Hey, Master Tano.”

“Sunbathing?” She queried.

You sigh and fall back on the grass, “more like waiting. Patiently. Very patiently.”

“The new Padawan not here yet?” Master Tano—Ahsoka, asked—her name was still hard to get used to. Even if it has been years since she’s been correcting you, almost begging you to call her Ahsoka. Saying that your relationship was that much more than one of a Padawan and Master. “We’re friends. Best friends.” She would say. “No need for formalities.” She was right of course, but it was formalities that were permanently engraved in your mind.

Thanks dad.

You shake your head and from the corner of your eye watch as Ahsoka leans back, resting her hands by her sides on the grass. Looking as if she was and could take in the warmth of the sun on her face, her eyes on the sky, but her attention solely on you as you continued speaking. “No, she’s late.”

“She’ll show. Just got to be patient.” She chuckles, “more patient.”

You scoff, “Hmm, aren’t you supposed to be busy doing...I don’t know ghost stuff? Y’know instead of stalking me?”

Ahsoka giggles and snaps back with equal the attitude, “aren’t you supposed to be training?”

You chuckle and sit up to fully face her and quip. “I have a schedule, remember?” Ahsoka meets your gaze and the white marking on her right eyebrow bone lifts, shooting you curious look; “early morning, get up, get ready for the day, meditate, then join dad, Jacen and Ben for breakfast with the other Padawans. After that chores, then annoy Jacen. Not done yet, because this Padawan was supposed to come, so, that’s still on hold. But after that it’s talk with my favorite Jedi Master. Check.”

Ahsoka grins, “right on.” She then meets your fist to share a light fist bump at your comment.

You continue, “then more chores. Training with you or dad. Lastly annoy Ben before going to sleep and ending my day.”

“For such a busy person,” Ahsoka teases, “you’re surely doing a whole lot of nothing.”

“Ha. Ha. Funny.”

Ahsoka shrugs nonchalantly, “I know. Must be a Skywalker shared thought. Your grandfather thought I was funny too.”

You shake your head and smirk, “I’m sure he did.” Before you could add something else, the sound of a motor catches your attention, making you jump to your feet and look past the jungle trees, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hand to get a better view at the approaching speeder and who was riding it.

“You think that’s the Padawan?” Ahsoka questioned as she stood up to watch the same thing.

You shrug, “I don’t know…” you trail off, catching sight of what appeared to be a man. His face became more distinguishable the closer he got. A head of dark curls visible first before the sun hit and made clear of the tan face he carried. “Nope. Not the Padawan.” You interjected at the discovery of the seemingly young man on the speeder heading your way.

“Well, we'll talk later, okay? So you can tell me all about the cute visitor.” Ahsoka added with a final smile, her face and body fading away until there was nothing but the view of your father's jedi temple and the young man now a couple feet in front of you.

He gets off his parked speeder bike and his eyes fall on you before they begin to search for something behind you.

“Hello.” You greet with a warm grin, pulling the guys brown eyes back to you with an added smile on his lips.

“Uh, hi.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and search his face for a moment. Coming to a full conclusion that this was not your wanted Padawan; “since you don’t seem to be the Padawan I’m waiting for, I’m going on a whim here to say you’re here for Jacen?”

The young man's eyes widen in recognition at the sound of the name. “Yeah actually, he said he was going to be here.”

You scoff and shake your head, “oh well, of course he’s not here.” You look over your shoulder to see if your brother was anywhere in sight, but alas and to no surprise he wasn’t. “He’s probably busy. And I emphasize the word busy, sucking faces with his girlfriend or smoking. Sorry. You’re welcome to wait or I can go search for him if you want.”

The young man chuckles. A laugh that was meant whole heartedly and not feigned, his shoulders shaking as he did something so simple—“I’m fine. I think I’m in perfect company until he comes.”

You feel a heat crawl on your cheeks, suddenly being overwhelmed by the flustering state he put you in. A first, and a action not done by anyone before..until now; “Oh, well,” you smile and fumble to find any more words without making them sound like gibberish. He was a couple years older than you, you needed to remember that. Being your brother's friend and all. But when the sun caught and brightened the charming grin on his lips; one that showed how perfectly white his teeth were, how his eyes showed the same amount of happiness and glow you couldn’t help but grow more flustered.

What the hell was wrong? This is not you. Pfft.

Seeing your current state, he leaned his body on his speeder and proceeded to introduce himself with the same smile. “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

You twist your Padawan braid between the pad of your index and thumb finger and smile shyly. “I’m y/n Skywalker. Jacen’s sister.”

“Oh, yeah he’s told me about you,” he points, “his as he says and I quote, “my annoying little sister.”

You scoff again, “Well I never said he was my favorite so. Whatever.” You sigh, “anyway if you want I can take you to him, or I can take you to the mess hall while you wait. I made food that hasn’t gotten touched, it would be a shame to throw it away. If you’re hungry that is.” But maybe it’s because you had no friends to eat your food. Your father wasn’t here and Jacen and Ben were somewhere around, the only friends you did have couldn’t eat because they were ghosts of past Jedi. Maybe it’s time to make friends with living people...but then again, they aren’t fun as the ghosts you hang out with. So, it’s better they way you are.

Poe shrugs, “sure I’m up for it.”

You grin and turn to guide him towards the hall, but when you try, the one and only, Jacen, appears a couple feet away with Ben Solo in tow. Looking like a matching set next to one another. One is never far from the other, like twins almost. Only they weren’t that. Looking as always, or at least Jacen all high mighty like he ruled this temple and those in it. Stuck up silly boy. Not at all how Ahsoka described your grandfather or grandmother to be. Sure they had flair to their step, being who they were, but Jacen over passed flair and went straight to stuck up, spoiled daddy’s boy. At least Ben wasn’t that way, even if he was considered a Prince; he was like his mother in that way, sweet and more genuine. Even if Jacen did get to him at times.

Anyhow, disregarding your cousin and brother's demeanor's, you let out an annoyed sigh, noticing right away the glare on Jacen’s pale and slim face, his blue eyes almost seeming to show a red hue due to his anger. A detail that was caused by the sun reflecting on his irises, one if you hadn't noticed such an effect would have thought his eyes changed colors with his aggravated mood. And for what reasons was he mad? Going by the glare he threw to his friend, and you were guessing here, would be because his friend was talking to you—when did he decide to be the caring older brother?

“Dameron,” your brother smiles, “I’m sorry I’m late, man.” For such a cold glare, he knew how to give a warm and genuine welcome. “I hope my sister wasn’t bothering you”

You frown and huff, feeling him very smoothly tug you towards him without showing Poe his true intentions of why he had pulled you away—“You’re rude and maybe if you were early I wouldn’t have to greet your friends.” You snap.

Jacen’s eyes drift to meet your own, his jaw clenching and showing you a feigned smile. “Go, dads back, go greet him.”

“Fine.” You turn to Poe one last time and offer him one last smile. “I’ll see you around, Poe.” Said man smiles in return, not really caring for your brother's death glare. Not like you cared either—Using a bit of the force you spin back on your heels and offer Ben a warm smile before leaving the group of boys and heading towards your father's strong force presence. Unknowingly keeping Poe's attention on you as your father soon came into view, a warm and kind smile on his lips at the sight of you welcoming him back from a failed recruitment mission.

“Dad!” Quickly you throw your arms around his neck and feel his own arms wrap around you to return your embrace, the long sleeves from his Jedi robes becoming a warm secure blanket on your back. As his familiar natural citrus smell engulfs your nose in its refreshing smell. A welcoming smell, just like he was a welcoming sight after what felt too long being without him.

“Hey, kid.” He warmly greets, pulling away from the embrace to cradle your cheek, “is it just me or is it every time I come back from being away you just get older?”

You shrug nonchalantly and refer to his graying hair. “I think you’re the one getting older.”

He chuckles and pulls away, shrugging off the pack hanging from his shoulder, his eyes looking for who you presumed was Jacen. “Where’s your brother?”

Yep that was it.

You scoff, “off being an ass.”

He raises an eyebrow to your choice of word, a reaction you knew wasn’t welcomed lightly, or at all. He wasn’t a fan of profanity, especially since you were to set an example to the other students since you were who you were. It didn’t stop you though, and you knew he let some bad choice words slip himself, you’ve heard him.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

He shakes his head and proceeds to pull out a small bag from his pack. “I stopped by Naboo before coming back here and when I was there I got you this.” He pulls your hand that was resting at your side to place the pouch on your hand, his smile glowing with happiness. “It isn't anything big, but I hope you like it.” Not being to hold your anticipation, you open the pouch and pull out a silver chain with a japor snippet charm hanging from it. The simple yet meaningful gift makes you grin and wrap him in another hug. “I made one for you brother too—I carved it out myself, I just needed something to hang it from. It’s like the one your grandfather gave your grandmother. It's supposed to mean good fortune. And well when I’m gone for too long so you can remember me.”

“I love it.” You happily exclaim as you feel him place a kiss on the crown of your head. Pulling away shortly after to discover something extra in the pouch. Treats from Naboo, his favorite treats, just like yours. A gift you knew he added so you’d share; “Thank you, dad.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and begins to guide you into the temple, the same kind smile on his face as he added with equally as kind words, “love you kid.”

——

(Ben Solo p.o.v)

“Where’s my daughter?”

Ben blinks, his lips parting try to form any word, just any word. To explain in the best way possible to his uncle and former Master that the only daughter he had. The last breathing child he had was being held captive by Snoke inside the First Orders capital ship. Of course he could just simply release that news to him like that. But by the look on his face, he preferred to let it out as easy as possible.

“She’s alive, I’m going to go back for her,” Ben revealed confidently, earning a narrowed look regardless of his choice of words. “Whatever it takes.”

Ben’s mother began to walk towards her brother, a softened look expressed on Luke's eyes, his attention falling on her for a second, his concerned expression appearing again as Ben finished speaking. “Possibility is that the ship they had her on isn’t going to be in the same coordinates, but I know people, I can search here for their location. I will go back for her, I promise.”

Luke sighed, “she’s my only daughter. I can’t…” he paused for a short second, if Ben hadn’t been paying attention to Luke, it would be an action that would have gone unnoticed, just like the crack in his voice. “I won’t lose her too. I’ll go with you.”

With you? Really? Is that what he said?

First, no one except for y/n herself knew where he was after he isolated himself. Second this is the first time in years Luke has ever talked to Ben. His mother sure, a couple times before he completely cut contact, but it had been years since anyone had seen him until now. Did he just expect Ben to know where he was?

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed his lips parting to say his peace before Luke interjected. “I can’t stay like this for too long.” He explained, referring to his current...state. “I shared the coordinates of where I am with your mother, come to me and we’ll go get my daughter.”

Before Ben could even nod to agree with what he suggested, or commanded, Luke disappeared, leaving nothing but simple coordinates in his mother’s mind through their force connection.

Ben cleared his throat and let his eyes wander the crowd that had gathered, noticing that they had begun to disperse at the sight of Luke gone and Ben’s hardened gaze searching the crowd. All of them pretending that they were now “busy”. Bullshit—“Let’s search for the coordinates on the datapads.” Ben said to his mother, her gaze turning to see him and expressing her motherly concern. Even after she had slapped him.

Well maybe he deserved that.

“Let’s get you patched up first, Ben.”

Ben shook his head and stubbornly began to head towards the datapads inside base. His words somewhat wavered as he walked ahead. “no, first we get those coordinates down, before anything else.”

“You’re hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He cut her off, “y/n is still out there. I-I can’t and won’t let them keep her as some prisoner. The longer she’s out there, the higher the possibility it is for her to get hurt.” Ben sighed, “we know how she is.”

His mother sighed, unsure of what to really say to ease his worry. “she’s like her father, Ben. She’s strong and patient, she’s going to be okay.” She tried assuring him, but it didn’t at all coax his worry. That reason was exactly why he was worried. “She’d want you looked out after first.”

Ben sighed, “I know. But let’s just first figure out where he is.” Having no other choice, his mother stopped trying to tell Ben otherwise. She knew she wouldn’t win in this argument.

But maybe she should have, basing off the stares he was getting the further he walked into base with his torn clothing, bruised face and busted lip. It’s like they’ve haven’t seen someone hurt before, or seen him. Maybe it would have been better if he had gone somewhere else that wasn’t here….

“And you tell me who can outrun a band of bounty hunters with a inch of fuel left in their ship?”

“You.”

“I’m not one to brag, but yeah. Me.” The old man chuckles, straightening out the invisible wrinkles on his jacket and receiving a smack on the arm by the tall and hairy Wookiee sitting beside him not mere seconds later. “And Chewie. Don’t worry buddy I didn’t forget you.”

Yeah it was definitely better if he had chosen to travel somewhere else.

The old man’s dark brown eyes spot Ben from across the room, his eyes widening in recognition, the smile that grew faltering until it completely fell at the sight of Ben’s visible wounds.

“When did dad get back?” Ben quietly questioned his mother who walked behind him, his hand flying to his ribs at the sharp sting of pain.

“Earlier today.”

Ben hummed, making his way to his father regardless of his current feelings on him. A noticeable happy look on his father's face once he reached him. Not one that really made it on Ben’s face, but he tried. He was trying. “Dad, Chewie.” His eyes shifted to the pilot his father had shown off to. One of y/n’s friends….special friends; His breath hitched and his eyes drifted nervously to the ground with a very faint and shy smile spreading on his lips. “Hi, Mara.” Said girl smiled and offered him a short nod, her dark eyes searching for only one person who wasn’t by his side. The smile she contained slowly falling.

“Where’s Jaina?”

Who?

Ben blinked, an obvious puzzled look growing on his face, until the light bulb in his head went off a couple minutes later—right, y/n’s fake name to keep her real identity a secret. Right. “She’s….” Ben blanked again, a wave of guilt crashing within him. “She’s..not here.”

Mara answered with a soft “oh”, his theory of her answering with just silence, debunking as she looked up at him with concern. “Are you okay? Do you need me to patch you up? I have some free time.”

His dad tried to hide his proud smile behind his hand, but Ben caught the gesture and hoped Mara didn’t. Ben offered her an assuring smile nonetheless and ignored his dad. “uhh no,” he swallowed thickly at how much more nervous he was beginning to get, “later?”

She smiled and nodded, “okay, I’m here all day so,” she grinned at her own joke before finishing her comment. “Come look for me when you want.”

Ben offered a short nod in agreement and watched quietly as she walked away with Chewbacca, his gaze lost on her figure as she swayed her hips in a confident way, he smiled shyly at the thought of talking to her later, until all the excitement went away when his dad broke him from his stupor, expressing his concern for Ben’s beloved cousin. Or sister as everyone knew her here. “Ben what’s wrong? Where’s y/n? What happened?”

Ben responded with silence, turning to walk towards his intended destination, hearing as both parents paced behind him, ultimately having to force himself to answer with a grumble. “I’m going to get her.”

“Ben.”

“I’m okay, dad, really.” Ben winced softly, his face swallowed by the holo-computers bright blue hue in front of him. Ben’s fingers typing a whirlwind of buttons in a matter of seconds before looking over his shoulder to his mother who had barely caught up to him. “Could you please give me the coordinates.”

His mother nodded and pushed Ben to the side, quickly inserting what was needed before a strange new map flashed on, marking a path to the unknown regions of the galaxy. “Are you sure this is it?” Ben wondered before he zoomed into the new marked planet, his black eyebrows furrowing as he tried to decipher what it was and how the hell he was going to get there. He couldn’t go in the ship the First Order had so generously gifted him. Mainly because he knew it would be tracked. And he couldn’t on any of the ships here because they were all just one seater fighter ships. The only thing he could do was—Ben’s eyes slowly slid to his father, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the thought.

“Yes it’s there.” His mother remarked. “It wouldn’t be wrong.”

Ben ran a hand through his hair and then rested his hands on the table. Letting his mother explain to his father what this was and what had gone on just moments ago with her long lost twin brother. A mixture between excitement and confusion expressed on his father's face.

“Dad…” Ben paused and sighed again, hesitating to even continue. Just digging the heel of his boot into the stone ground, barely now feeling the high heat of D’Qar on him. Making sweat beads roll down his forehead as he tried to ask his father one simple question. “Could I use the Falcon?”

“To get your uncle and save y/n?” His father asked as he crossed his arms over his chest; Ben nodded stiffly, letting that be the only reaction his father needed to continue with a smug grin. “Of course. But your mother, chewbacca and I are going too.”

Ben froze and his eye twitched at the comment, his lips parting to protest. “But—”

“No.” His father interjected. “You’re crazy to think we’re letting you do this alone after what happened. Your partner in crime may be gone, but we’re here.”

“But mom has a base to run, she can’t leave.” Ben tried to argue, his father as stubborn as him.

“It’s okay. She can leave someone in charge. We won’t be gone for long. We’re going with you, end of discussion.”

Ben sighed and hesitated for a moment, knowing damn well that there was no point in arguing. “Fine.”

His mother and father smiled before Han added another comment. “Gives us the excuse to finally reunite the old crew. How about that?”

Ben feigned a smile and offered a short nod. “Great. Just great.” Well this was going to be an adventure—if only this was a different situation and y/n was here. She would have made this more tolerable. She would have loved his father's idea. She would have jumped for joy.

Stars. If only she were here…

——

“I am one with the force,” you slowly breathe out of your nose, trying with everything within you to feel a spark of something, feel the presence of anyone. Ahsoka, your grandfather, Ben or your father. Just anyone so that you could feel less hopeless; “I am one with the force. I am—”

“Does that really work?”

When did the door open?

You sigh and open your eyes with a dread, instantly being welcomed by Poe Dameron, his figure in the small dark room upside down as you balanced on one hand. In attempts to try and feel your force ability. Disappointingly enough though, coming out empty, especially now with the annoying distraction and his...cute white and orange droid by his feet; “What?”

Poe cocks his head to side, shifting the helmet underneath his arm and placing the plate of food down on the metal desk, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Mediating? And all your Jedi whatever?”

You huff, “not anymore since you’re here. Annoying me.” You remark, making him scoff playfully and for the droid to chirp to defend his master. His little soft sounds not at all affecting you. After all, you were friends with artoo. That droid was worse—regardless having no other option, you swiftly flipped back to stand on your feet and hesitate to face him, sighing as you did.

“I brought you food,” Poe points to the tray displaying a healthy amount of vegetables, what looked to be steaming mashed potatoes and fruits—At Least the First Orders food option wasn’t as bad as them.

Your eyes drift to the food and you shake your head, “I’m not hungry.” You cross your arms over your chest and shoot him a pointed look, ignoring the way your stomach growled as the smell of the food hit your nose.

“The guards say you haven’t eaten.” He grumbles, reaching to grab the plate, “eat or you’ll starve.”

You shoot him a glare and stay grounded as he begins walking towards you, his steps heavy as they hit the metal ground while his face clearly came to view under the white dim lights on the ceiling, his gaze not really expressing a concern, but an annoyance to your defiance; “you told me to rot in my cell, I’m doing that.”

Poe sighs heavily, “it’s a figure of speech. I was angry that you lied to me. Don’t they have that where you’re from?”

“I’m from Yavin-4 so you tell me.” You quip. Standing straighter as he comes to a stop in front of you.

“Eat, y/n.”

You grab the tray from his hand and grab the bowl of mashed potatoes, a small smirk faintly showing on your lips as you cupped your hand around the bottom rim and lifted it off the tray to shove it in his face. “Why don’t you.”

Poe’s jaw clenched as he reacted quickly by wiping the food off his face, his dark eyes burning holes inside your head. His lips parted to most likely argue, or scream at you, but instead he clenched his jaw once more. Letting the tray drop to the ground with a loud clang, the food remaining spilling on the floor by your feet, and his gloved hand clenching into a fist at his side before he turned to leave the room (cell) in a huff. His droid following him with concern and a hurried pace. Again, being left all alone with nothing but your failed attempts to reconnect with the force.

Usually when there were those moments when you felt alone, you usually liked to very carefully grab the japor snippet that would hang around your neck on a metal chain, but when you lifted your hand this time to try and feel the soft wooden charm, you only touched soft skin. No reminder of your dad, just the feeling of true and pure loneliness—Maybe the better choice was not to take it off before you arrived here. At least then maybe there would be something to keep you company, or keep you from feeling less alone. But there was no room for maybe’s anymore….

With a shaky exhale you drop to the ground, your eyes watering for a moment before they caught sight of the food spilled on the ground; having nothing else to do and really just distracting yourself, picking it up and placing it back on the tray. Feeling only a small, tiny bit of an inkling of remorse for what you did to Poe—He may be rude and annoying but….he..he was trying something nice.

Eww that even hurt to think.

Catching you by surprise the door slid open, different more lighter footsteps following as they walked inside, informing you immediately that it wasn’t Poe who returned, and it wasn’t Rey. You discreetly peeked over your shoulder as the door slid closed, spotting a black uniform reflecting the gleam of white light, a recognizable stormtrooper helmet on its head and a new tray of food in its hands—“there's people that can do that, y’know.”

Ah, now you knew who it was. “Oh, look, Poe sent in his apologetic stormtrooper.” You turn back around and focus on cleaning up the food. “Go away.”

“Finn.” He corrects you. “It’s actually Finn.”

You scoff as you sit up, still letting your back face him. “Okay.”

“You haven’t ate.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “You too, huh? You know I thought that whole reason of being a prisoner was to torture me. Not to treat me like a child.”

“You’re a guest.”

Finally you roll your head over your shoulder to make sure he saw your raised eyebrow and narrowed gaze. “Funny.” You spin around where you sat to face him with the same reaction. “Tell your master that I’m not hungry.”

Finn nods slowly and grabs a metal chair, twisting it around so he could take a seat. “I won’t leave until you will.”

“Then I guess you’re staying here all day.”

“I guess I will.” He quipped back, sounding exactly how Ben would. So paternal. It sucked; “tell you what, Nomad was going to do this later, but, I can take you to a better room if you eat.”

You scoff. “I’m not some pet or some child that you can bribe!”

Finn sighed, even if his face was covered it was audible that he sighed through his nose. “You’re snippy, you know that?” He paused and shrugged, “look I know you’re not a child or some pet, but I can’t promise you anything else, okay? Plus this room sucks, it’s dark and depressing, your new room will be bigger and have a window. Gives you room to walk and see the stars. But only if you at least have a couple bites of food.”

You huff and hesitate to stand up, biting the inside of your cheek and drifting your eyes to see the soft red lights that decorated the ground as you contemplated your answer. “You’re weird y’know? Different from the other stormtroopers.”

Finn shrugged, “I’ll take that as a complement.”

You meet the visor where his eyes are meant to be and groan softly. “Fine, I’ll eat.” You take the tray of food he offers and sit in another chair across from him, noticing as he crossed his arms over his chest in a cocky way.

“Wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

A scoff escapes your lips before a faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you answer him, “I guess not.” Finn shrugs and you simply roll your eyes as you finally take a bite of your food. “Happy?”

He quips, “very.”

——

“You’ve got a smile brighter than any of those stars.”

A smile slowly tugs at your lips at the faint memory sounding in your mind, whilst your eyes get lost on the view of the dark and cold vacuum of space in front of you, pretending that if you thought hard enough, you could see the memory play in the twinkling stars. It was the only form of distraction to keep you from really feeling what your mind, whole being wanted you to really feel.

“Any more compliments and she’ll turn out like you, Anakin.” Master Kenobi retorted, making your grandfather grin smugly.

“And that’s wrong? She is my only granddaughter after all. Maybe I want her to be just like me.”

You chuckle and keep listening to what Master Kenobi had to say in return. “Ahsoka and I enjoy her the way she is. Don’t corrupt her please.”

A knock sounds on the door, pulling you from your stupor and causing your smile to fall. Only watching from the reflection of the transipersteel that Nomad had opened the door, his figure stuck at the entrance of the door, the bright light of the halls growing his shadow on a ground that was a hundred times more smoother than the cold hard metal, grate of a floor that was in your cell before. This cell had a bed. A bigger bed than you’ve ever had in your life, with a bigger room that could probably fit the small boxes you would stay in at base a hundred times over. The sheets were a dark silk heaven...Like how you imagine a cloud to feel, and there was a huge bathroom that was a part of your “room” (cell), and a walk-in closet that was only half full with First Order clothes you would never actually wear, but it had them hanging from the racks. Overall your excitement was obvious and not expected. They had spoiled you to the max with this room. Even if it was locked from the outside; which actually brought you to the conclusion that there was some reason behind this relocation.

Beside just the fact that they were obligating you to stay here alive.

“Do you need something?”

The sound of his weight shifting to his other foot echoed throughout the room, the sound nor him actually pulling your full attention just yet.

“Do you want to get out of your room?”

You sigh and bite the inside of your cheek, “cell you mean.” You correct him.

Nomad sighs loudly, “do you?”

“Depends. Am I going home?”

“No.” He deadpans before letting silence engulf the whole room. The sound of his helmet clicking before it came off was the only noise that traveled around, the sound of his voice much softer now without his helmet following shortly after. “Rey is gone on some mission. I need someone to train with.”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, being quick with a retort. “Your girlfriend’s gone so now you’re bugging me?”

Poe chuckled and was heard fully entering the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. “Not my girlfriend. She wishes she was. Plus I think you're more her type.”

“That, or she’s simply not into you.” You quip with a smug grin.

“Possibly.” He agreed, his footsteps stopping a couple feet behind you; “do you want to leave or not? I promise I’ll go easy, wouldn’t want to harm the pretty princess, y’know.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop calling me that, I’m not a princess. Far from it.”

“Your father is basically Jedi royalty, just like your last name, basically makes you one.”

“Nah.” You smirk, “the only princess I know is my cousin Ben. So.” Prince basically, but same thing. You loved to tease him. Got him ticked and got you happy.

“Come on. You don’t want to be stuck in here all day. It gets depressing.” Poe adds, making you grow quiet and not really thinking much of your answer before you answered with another sigh.

“Fine.” You finally turn to face Poe, seeing the cuffs already in his grip.

He noticed your gaze on the object and shrugged. “Trust issues. They’ll be off when we get to the training room.” Having no other choice you extend your hands and let him slap the cuffs on your wrists, watching as he put his helmet back on. Why? No idea. It’s not like he had trouble breathing like Darth Vader had, nor was it intimidating as his. It looked like any other helmet the stormtroopers with the black suits had on. You would have asked, but you didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction that something about him remotely caught your attention. Unless it was his scar. But that wasn’t something you had the need to comment on anymore. Just like you didn’t comment on the silence that surrounded you both as he walked you to the training room. Walking past stormtroopers with the black uniforms that differed those with the usual get up. Again you wanted to comment, but again you chose not to. Just letting the silence continue until you arrive at the room, the cuffs soon getting taken off once you both are secured inside the unsurprisingly huge area.

“Here,” he says breaking the silence, handing you a new set of hand wraps as he took off his helmet with his other hand, his eyes traveling from what he offered you and up to you. “I’m not going to bite. Take them. And don’t wrap them on too tight, or you’ll open your wound on your hand.”

He remembered about that? You hardly did

With some small hesitation you chose to take the hand wraps from him and only mouth a soft ‘thank you’ before you took off the ugly long sleeved shirt they had put on you before, being in only the tank top underneath, just like he now was. You tried to avert your eyes, really tried, but found yourself looking at him regardless as you began to wrap one hand, noticing that he wasn’t built like before when you first met him, when he would hang out with Ben and your brother. No, he was older now, his arms weren’t as skinny as before, they had a lot more...muscle to them and his chest was much more..how does someone describe it? Toned? Just like his...abdominal area. It was all just stamped through his tight tank….

Wait a minute...no. No—hastily before he noticed you staring, you tore your eyes away and focused on what you were doing—was it hot in here? Stars. Fucking...

“You done?”

You swallow thickly again and nod. “Yep.” Before he was able to comment on anything you jumped up, and met him on the mat, looking around for any usual weapons you were used to training with. “Do I get to use any of my lightsabers?”

Poe shakes his head whilst he gets into a fighting stance. “Not until you don’t want to kill me and you don’t want to leave anymore.”

“I’m a prisoner inside your capital ship, Dameron, of course I will fight to leave. All the time.”

“Then you don’t get your lightsabers. Simple.”

You huff and get into your own fighting stance, a mixture between use of form V and the form Ashoka taught you. Carefully eyeing every movement Poe began to make as he paced around you, waiting for you to attack, watching with his own eyes as you shifted your body to be prepared for any attacks. Smirking once he got impatient and attacked first, letting you to quickly dodge his swing and swiftly return to your stance, kicking his side before swinging your other leg and missing as he ducked.

You grinned and slightly jumped back to avoid his move, shrugging as you added something with heavy breaths. “No training stick or anything? Or are you too afraid I’ll beat you?”

Poe hesitated to answer. Giving right away his thoughts, which was a clear ‘yes’. He might’ve responded with a ‘no’ but you knew.

Poe tried to swing again but you quickly caught his fist and smirked, twisting his arm a bit before jumping slightly to lock his neck with your legs and flipping him over to crash onto the mat. His hand you had pinned to the ground while with his other hand he was quick to tap your leg to call it quits—you did so and loosened your grip, letting him slip out and carefully touch his offended area, while he also tried to breath in air, his eyes on you expressing a mixture of something you couldn’t define; “damn, princess, who the hell taught you to fight?”

You push yourself up to your feet and shrug, “I’ve had multiple teachers throughout the years.”

“Your ghost friends?”

Your head whips to where he is and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and shock. “You remember?”

Poe stands up and keeps rubbing his neck, using the force to summon a water bottle to his hand. Shooting you a look that read ‘yeah? Obviously.’

“Well them and myself.” Your frown returns to your face at the thought, “I wanted to be stronger so when I fought...Nomad. I’d win. I had to grow.”

Poe’s eyes drop and gulps down his water, licking his lips before he adds his other comment. “Well you have grown into yourself.” He smirks and you scoff, unable to tune him out as he continues. “I just mean you—never mind.”

You don’t press on the matter and look away from him, a sharp pain shooting to your palm repeatedly, making you quietly hiss from the pain. You bring your hand up and see the blood soaking through the wraps. Shit. You clench your hand into a fist and just try to ignore it until you were taken back to your cell. But you should’ve known better. Even if this room was big, it appeared almost small with just Poe and you here. He noticed; “I told you not to wrap it too tight. See now you opened your wound again.”

You huff and ignore him, hearing from behind you as he walked up behind until he stood close, his hand forcefully pulling your injured one. Carefully unwrapping the wrap and turning it to see the mess. “I can stitch it up.”

“No.” You answer bluntly, trying to pull your hand away from his grasp, but coming out unsuccessful as he pulled it back to him.

“I’m doing it.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

Poe shrugs and pulls you to sit on a nearby bench, moving away to get what he needed, not taking long in his leave and sitting right back down beside you, taking your hand in his once more and completely removing the hand wrap. Very delicately, in a touch you barely felt cleaning your deep cut you yourself caused when..you stupidly but bravely caught his blade with your hand. It was a move your grandfather would’ve been proud of and Ben would’ve disapproved. Saying ‘it's too dangerous. You’ll get hurt.’ Even if he does the same move too. Whatever—you keep your eyes downcast and just listen to your breathing, soon hearing Poe’s because of how close he sat by you. Unable to keep your eyes away before they drifted to watch what he did, slowly looking up to see his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze narrowed on your wound. Why was he being so nice?

“Why are you being so nice?” You question out loud.

Poe hesitates and inhales quietly before exhaling deeply, only briefly letting his eyes meet your own before choosing to answer. “You want to get an infection on your hand?”

“No.”

“You’re my guest, I like to treat my guests nice.” He adds, his gaze focusing on the needle in his hand, ignoring your scoff.

“If I was your guest, I wouldn’t be in a cell.”

“You’re in a room.”

“It’s locked from the outside. Forbidding me from going out like a cell would. So it’s a cell.”

Poe stops and looks up at you, parting his lips to argue but choosing to let the silence once again blanket you both. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one, but it was one that soon made you feel the remorse from what you did a while ago; “I’m sorry,”

His breath catches in his throat. He tried to pretend it didn’t, but you caught it. “For throwing the food at you. You didn’t deserve that. You were trying to be nice. I’m sorry.” You pause and a faint smile appears, “only for that though. You deserved me punching you.”

A very faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a soft amused huff of air leaving his nose, his gaze meeting with yours for a second before you looked away. Your attention perked up once he mentioned something…“you know when we met for the first time and after you left with your dad and Jacen finally was able to distract Ben with something he told me and I quote, “you’re my friend and as your friend I want to say this. My sister is off limits. I see or hear you talking to her in any sort of suggestive, flirtatious way I’ll hurt you.”

You scoff and smile wider, “he was an ass. I’m sorry.”

Poe shook his head and chuckled. “I didn’t listen, don't worry.”

The smile you had soon faded at the memory of what happened rushed in. Of that night, of who had killed him. The anger returns in a burning fury, causing you to pull your hand away, not caring if he was almost done—He noticed the shift in your emotions, not only by the force, but by the way your eyes watered and your face scrunched up in anger. He wanted to add something, but you cut him off sharply. “Take me back to back to my cell, I’m tired of being here and of you.”

Poe simply nodded and summoned the cuffs to his hand to slap them back on your wrists, his eyes drifting back up to your face to see the tears you tried to hold in. Choosing that only a simple “fine” was enough. Not daring to talk the rest of the way back to the place he called your room. Releasing the cuffs once you were inside, choosing at the last moment, thinking that you wouldn’t notice (when in fact you did) to leave the door unlocked.

A mistake on his part and something you took as an advantage.

——

With very quiet and careful steps you snuck out of your room, looking from hall to hall to make sure the ghost was clear. Once it was you walked down the halls to try and get to the hangar Ben had parked his ship. Hoping that it was still there to make your great escape. Biting the inside of your cheek as a nervous tick. The deeper you walked down the ships halls the tighter you bit down.

Ignoring the pain in your heart to leave your own beautiful purple lightsaber, and the green lightsaber your dad gave to you behind. It hurt your soul, but if you tried to find them you’d be caught, so unfortunately it was something you had to leave, hoping that one day you’ll get them back. Really hoping.

Finally by the miracle of the maker through the wide transparisteel the ship you had come in came to view. A grin spreading whilst you rushed inside the hanger and inside the ship. Lucking out when there were no stormtroopers around, or inside the ship; not like you hoped there would be or you waited to see them as you rushed to the cockpit, letting the necklace you were truly and deeply missing get forgotten until you were out in the safety of hyperspace.

Feeling the cold buttons from the control underneath your hand as it traveled to try and turn it on, feeling a cold breeze of air as you went unaware of the person who had snuck on, his voice breaking the silence that had filled in the small space, the suddenness of his voice causing your shoulders to jump in surprise; “what are you doing?”

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to see Poe standing stiffly by the entrance. His jaw clenched and his glare burned into you as he repeated in a deeper, angrier voice, “What are you doing?”

A/N- the Ben part got long, sorry :/ also let me know me know if you actually want more from his p.o.v since the og group is going to reunite. And if you want to share ideas on what you want to see when they do, let me know :) and before you ask, yes, our beloved reader is friends with force ghosts ;)

Tagged- @thescarletknight2014 , @softly-sad , @golden-guide , @abysshaven , @a-dorky-book-keeper , @kit-jpg , @mybarnesmyhero

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care , @commondazy , @paintballkid711

64 notes · View notes

rockhoochie · 4 years

Text

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader - Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you! Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting 😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67 - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss? Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading! Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close. We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday, planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions.

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me. There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves. It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite...

I catch myself before I start to fall too far. I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again.

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”.

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her. I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight.

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours.

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply. But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that.

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a room upstairs, a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain.

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine.

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me.

Is she?

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word. The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer.

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight.

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead.

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over. I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin.

I never want to stop kissing him.

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…”

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to.

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up. I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing.

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece.

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy. But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled.

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum.

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss.

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional.

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him.

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move.

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her.

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms.

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life.

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together.

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow. I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.”

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!”

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic, sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between:

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

Rock Hoochie’s Master List

Tags Are Open

Hoochie Groupies/SPN Tag Sheet:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alangel1895 @amandamdiehl @amaranthinecastiel @andkatiethings @anime-music-is-life @apeshit7x @atc74 @babypieandwhiskey @backbackbackagaynbitch @beachy2014 @becs-bunker @blackcherrywhiskey @canadianjelly @charliesbackbitches @chrisatplay @claitynroberts @curliesallovertheplace @dean-winchesters-bacon @deandoesthingstome @deans2nd-baby @deansbabygirl01@deerlululucy @emoryhemsworth @evilskank-inthemegacoven @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @ezauraemmaline @faegal04 @faith-in-dean @feelmyroarrrr @ferferelli @for-the-love-of-dean @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @growleytria-blog @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @hunterpuff @impossible-box @iridianuniverse @itsemmyb @ivvitm1109 @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @jencharlan @jotink78 @just-another-busy-fangirl @kathaswings @kittenofdoomage @kreborn17 @leyshabunny @Lilyoflothlorien @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @maddiepants @mannls @meganwinchester1999 @meganywinchester @melissasalvatoremikaelson @milo-winchester-4ever @mogaruke @mrs-meghan-winchester @MrsJohnSmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfanficlibrarium @mylovelydame21 @nobody-is-here-bye @notnaturalanahi @ohmychuckitssamanddean @olitzisbae @oriona75 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @pinknerdpanda @pisces-cutie @plaidstiel-wormstache @prompt-and-circumstances @saltandburn67 @samanddeanwinchester67 @samtomydeanwinchester @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @saving-things-hunting-family @seductivewifey @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @speakinvain @spence-rreid @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @squirrel-moose-winchester @sunriserose1023 @sunshineandwings86 @supermoonpanda @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @the-morning-star-falls @there-must-be-a-lock @thewinchestielboys @thinkwritexpress-official @thoughtslikeaminefield @tia58 @trenchcoats-and-bees @vintagevalentinexx @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @waywardbaby @weepingwillowphoenix @were-not-the-losechesters @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @winchesterfiesta @winchestersmolder @zanthiasplace

SPN Pond Tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @dr-dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @blushingsamgirl @bkwrm523 @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @mysupernaturalfics @fiveleaf @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @captain-princess-rose @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @ilovedean-spn2 @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @writingbeautifulmen @ageekchiclife @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @mysaintsasinner @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @maraisabellegrey-blog @bennyyh @bohowitch @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @melbelle45 @winchester-family-business @buffylovesfoxmulder-blog @4401lnc @teamfreewill92 @just-another-winchester @cas-backwards-tie @canadianspnhunter @mostly-shawn @winecatsandpizza @flamencodiva @firefly-in-darkness @supersassyprobablysad @emilyshurley

#dean x reader #dean x reader smut #dean winchester fanfiction #spn kink bingo 2020 #spn fan fic #spn fanfiction #18+ only

436 notes · View notes

amethysttribble · 4 years

Text

The Seer of Numenor

@finweanladiesweek Entry 4: Tindomiel

I lied yesterday, this one is my favorite. I’ve never touched Numenor before really, but now I’ve decided that I would die for all of Elros’s children. Also, this is the second fic I’ve written where Arwen gets visited, loved, and low-key haunted by a spectral ancestor. I have no idea what this means.

The morning star watches the dawn with her own eyes, and she watches the evening through... other means.

Her silver aunt didn’t seem to be listening. Her gaze looked nearly vacant, and for all that she didn’t respond, she might have been as deaf to whatever words were being spoken as Tindomiel was. It ripped at Tindimiel’s heart to see her like that, but moreso to watch Arwen’s increasingly desperate pleas to her mother.

“Oh, Undomiel,” Tindomiel whispered, aching- and not for the first time- to reach through the glass.

“Who are you spying on now?” Vardamir’s voice suddenly came from over her shoulder, and Tindomiel startled. She rapidly sat up straight in her chair, twisting around and banging her knees on the table in the process. She hadn’t even gotten a proper look at her brother when there was a dull, terror-inducing thud.

“Shit,” she cursed, turning back around and grasping for her palantir before it could tumble off the table.

Tindomiel didn’t know if the fall would really break it, but she wasn’t willing to try and find out. Father would never forgive her if she ruined one of his keepsakes from the sons of Feanor. Beyond that, she could not begin to guess where she’d find another one to continue her scrying with.

Carefully cradling the palantir in her arms, Tindomiel turned glare at Vardamir, who looked far too smug for her taste.

“Look what you almost made me do!” she snapped.

He didn’t look ruffled at her ire, though, merely coming up to loom behind her and ruffle her hair.

“Now, now, all’s well that ends well. Tell me what you’ve seen. Anything actually useful yet?”

Tindomiel sniffed, placing the palantir back on its stand and fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“Everything I see is useful, I’ll have you know. It’s not my fault you’re too simple to understand that.”

“Oh, yes, I’m completely sure you seeing whatever Uncle Elrond eats for breakfast millenia from now will be essential to my reign and our lifetimes.”

“You’re heinous,” Tindomiel told him, hovering her hands over the palantir and trying to conjure the images again. Her physical body didn’t really help with the scrying, but the movement made her feel more grounded and focused as she stretched her mind and spirit.

It was like… dipping her foot in an ocean. Except her foot was her very being, the ocean was an endless cosmos, and that starry void was filled with lives that were all screaming and clamoring and frothing. It was more like navigating in a hurricane than sailing on a sunny day.

Tindomiel took her boat out, though, trying to traverse the small Arda in the palantir as her grandfather did the stars.

It was always easier to get back to where she was before, rather than charting a new course.

Arwen at her mother’s bedside returned.

“Undomiel, again?” Vardamir asked, leaning over her shoulder. That dismissive edge to his voice had lessened, Tindomiel noted, pulling back to the real world with the image she’d reeled in safely captured.

“I think something terrible has happened to her mother,” she said, looking at her silver aunt’s gaunt face. Tindomiel longed to know who she truly was, but she hadn’t yet been able to make her visions speak to her, nor find her aunt- and, consequently, her name- in the cosmos.

“Should we tell Uncle?”

Vardamir’s voice sounded so strained, so earnest. It hurt Tindomiel. Her brother was not fit for seerwork; he was always trying to find solutions and reach out hands and apply what he learned. Vardamir didn’t understand that the purpose of futuresight was not a matter of aversion, but knowledge and peace. One couldn’t change the song. Only understand it.

And it was beautiful, but maddening.

Tindomiel feared she would go mad before she had even truly mastered the abilities she’d been gifted with.

But if she told Vardamir that, he would grow frightened for her sake, and he would bar her from her work and find a way to smash the palantir. He would be a good king, and he was a kind brother, but this was not a battle he could understand. Or win.

So instead of explaining all that, Tindomiel said, “And tell him what? That millenia from now something that I don’t truly understand will hurt his wife? No, he will always be looking over his shoulder. It might ruin their marriage before they even meet!”

Vardamir made a noise in his throat that meant he understood but did not like the situation one bit.

“Bleh,” he dismissed it all, “Tell me something more positive. Show me my heir! Halwen and I are still looking for names, see if you can show me some quality of my child to make it easier.”

“Urg! I told you, it’s hard when I don’t know the name, and the baby’s blood is further away from mine, it leaves a vaguer trail than you boys.”

Tindomiel had been telling her brothers their futures for years. Manwendil had still not forgiven her for telling him he would marry a blond, after the series of disastrous relationships that had brought about.

“And yet you found Undomiel,” Vardamir teased, “who hasn’t been born and won’t be for ages, who’s name you didn’t know, and who is as far away from you bloodwise as my child.”

Tindomiel turned back to the palantir, and instead of growing annoyed with Vardamir, ran a finger down the smooth surface that depicted Arwen’s face. She’d left her mother’s room, but she was crying now. If Tindomiel could have any wish granted, it would be the power to tell the girl, Don’t cry, it will all be well. In the end, it will all be well, Queen of Men.

But Tindomiel didn’t have the power for that.

Not yet.

In the meantime, she heaved a sigh at Vardamir.

“Arwen Undomiel is different. We are connected more deeply than we are with any other people that have lived, will live, or are living. I would have found her even if I tried to fight my vision. I’m sure of it. I know her as well as if she were my sister. I love her like the twin of my soul. And I like her better than you, too.”

Vardamir just laughed.

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “Good luck with your pointless visions, and remember that dinner is at the seventh bell. If you make Halwen wait to eat again, I’m not saving you.”

Tindomiel rolled her eyes.

But as her brother walked away and she started to dip deeper into the palantir to look for something a little closer to home, she called back at him, “I’ll look for names, but you better have named that child after me for this!”

#finweanladiesweek #tindomiel #vardamir #arwen #silmarillion #tolkien #fanfic #the silmarillion #Tribble Post

42 notes · View notes

busterkeatonfanfic · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 9

Buster hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and stared up with admiration at the 120-foot crane. Having been delivered to the set in multiple pieces by a fleet of huge trucks, the workmen had just finished putting it together. “Beautiful, ain’t she?”

At his side, Joe grimaced. “Did you have to?”

“ ‘Course I did,” said Buster. “How else are we going to lift the hospital off me in the cyclone sequence?”

“I just didn’t expect it … it’s so big, you know?”

“Damn right it is.”

“How much did it cost?” “How much did it cost? Really?” Buster said, feeling like Joe had just stuck a pin in his mood and popped it. “It cost what it cost.”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck as he looked up at the crane. “I just wish you’d said something first. Harry’s worried about going over budget.”

“Tell him he can blow it out his ass,” said Buster. “I’m getting damn sick of Harry. Didn’t we all sit down and agree a cyclone was just fine?” He bit his tongue and didn’t say ‘I told you so,’ because if they’d stuck to the original plan, there wouldn’t have been a crane. He wasn’t sure how much the cyclone had run them so far, but it was already over $20,000.

“Yeah, I guess we did. Just try to—” said Joe. “Well don’t go overboard, is what I’m getting at.”

Buster, who had already handsomely paid to go overboard, kept his silence again. “Sure.”

They took a street car to K Street. The sidewalks were still busy when they arrived at the Senator theater around 6:30, everyone parading around in their Saturday night finery. She felt good about the ensemble she’d chosen, a short-sleeved dusty peach cotton dress with a mauve straw cloche hat and silk stockings. Inside, the Senator was cool. She’d been to a picture there only once before, but it was enough to make her fall in love with the place, which had been built just two years prior and was new like everything on the West coast was new. It was adorned in velvet drapes and jardinières heaped with fresh chrysanthemums, plush wall-to-wall carpeting, and fringed lamps, but her favorite feature was the painted dome and the enormous multi-tiered chandelier hanging from its center.

As she and the Kimbles took their seats in the balcony, she looked to the box seats on either side of the theater, half-expecting to see Buster in one, but she didn’t. Maybe he was in the crowd, but there was only so much gawking she could do before attracting attention. She saw him in person nearly every day now, but always at a distance and always when he was busy in front of or behind the camera. River Junction had been a bustle of workmen and noise in the mornings as they rebuilt sets for the cyclone and put together the biggest crane she’d seen in her life. Bert allowed her to take breaks a couple times a day to watch the filming. Even though she was behind the scenes now and could see everything, from the cluster of noisy cameras to the even noisier rain machines, the sight of Buster falling into a puddle up to his waist or being blown off his feet by a gust of wind was still a laugh. On Thursday, she’d been called upon to place an order for five large loaves of bread from a bakery, but they were spirited off to an unknown part of the set and their purpose remained a mystery.

Her brief acquaintance with Buster seemed to have come to an end and she wasn’t inclined to press it any further, having made an ass of herself the first day in his dressing room and then later after the party at the blind tiger. It was enough that he knew her name. She’d begun hoping that the company would keep her on when they wrapped filming and packed up for Hollywood in a few weeks. The more she stuck around, the more people would know her face, and the more people knew her face, the greater her chances were of being recognized by a studio.

She shared Joe and Maggie’s jumbo box of Junior Mints as the lights went down and the opening short started. An organ in an arched box with pillars provided accompaniment.

When the opening credits of Buster’s feature began, Nelly’s pulse quickened a little bit. It was surreal when he finally appeared on the screen, walking beneath an umbrella with his mother in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin; she’d gotten used to him as a flesh-and-blood person. She now knew how his production company made that rain and that there were cameras in front of him tracking his every step. She also knew that the person inside the truck driving down the street in the background was an extra. Nevertheless, the scene still looked believable, and pretty soon she was sucked into the story like the rest of the audience.

Buster played a brainy college freshman without a lick of athletic ability, which happened to be the only thing his girl cared about. He spent most of the picture trying out for sports to impress her and failing miserably. Buster often took two or three-hour lunches to play baseball with his production team, so Nelly couldn’t quite buy that he didn’t understand the rules of the game and couldn’t hit a ball to save his life.

As the movie wore on, she became aware—and it gave her an unpleasant sensation, like an itch—that he was better-looking than she remembered. It embarrassed her somewhat to see him in his skimpy track outfit. In one scene where he sat on the sidelines, the shorts rode up so high she could see where his tan ended and his natural skin tone, considerably paler, began. She was almost glad when the movie ended. The last few seconds had been queer, besides. The scene of Buster and his girl walking out of the chapel after being married had melted into a scene of them sitting at home while their children played in the background, then one of them in old age, before concluding with a shot of two headstones.

The organ died away and the lights went up.

“What on earth did that ending mean?” said Maggie, with a look on her face.

“I don’t know,” said Nelly, but it had given her a bad taste. Judging by the expressions on their neighbors’ faces, they weren’t alone in their confusion. Even in Shakespeare’s time, everyone knew that you ended a comedy with a marriage. To do otherwise was to let your audience down. The abrupt, morbid ending brought her back to reality and reminded her that the real Buster was not to be confused with his handsome, whimsical on-screen counterpart.

Joe was the only one who seemed to find the ending funny and tried explaining it as they made their way up the balcony and down the stairs. Nelly was busy searching the exiting crowd for Buster’s face and only half listened. They made it out onto the sidewalk before she accepted she wasn’t going to see him that night.

Maggie proposed getting hamburgers before they went home and Joe and Nelly agreed. They found a diner on L Street and sat in a booth with a checkered red-and-white tablecloth.

“So what’s he really like?” Maggie said, after their food arrived and they were tucking into burgers and coleslaw. She was a heavier girl, pretty, with auburn hair and freckles on her nose. Her claim to fame was that her maternal grandfather had been one of the original inhabitants of Sacramento when it was first incorporated. She’d asked Nelly the question before, but Nelly didn’t mind answering it again. Buster had rubbed off some fifteen minutes of fame onto her and there was no sense in not using them. Of course, she hadn’t told them that he was her savior the night of the party; in her untruthful retelling, Bert had played that role. They did know, however, that he had invited her to be an extra and that she’d baked him cookies after his accident with the baseball.

“Not much like that,” said Nelly. She looked up and scanned the faces in the other booths as if one might belong to Buster, but they didn’t. “He smiles in real life, but you know that, I’ve said that before. He can be very solemn. He’s not boyish like he is in pictures. I think he’s a kind person, mostly.” She was almost surprised to hear herself say it, but it was a conclusion she’d come to in spite of how he’d appalled her at their first meeting. He’d been a gentleman through and through when he rescued her at the party and took her back to his hotel room, and she couldn’t help but alter her opinion because of it. “He keeps a lot to himself and sticks to his own pals. And he’s very funny, just as funny as his movies.”

“He’s a real athlete too,” Joe said. “He can’t hide that.”

Nelly agreed. “Yes, he plays a lot of baseball with his team.”

“I liked the picture anyway. The gags were funny,” said Joe.

“It was alright,” Nelly said.

Maggie added, “I’m still not keen on that ending.”

“No,” said Nelly.

They ate their burgers and the conversation moved to the Senators game (everything was called Senator here since Sacramento was the capital) and how, according to Joe at least, the team hadn’t been the same since Brick Eldred (whoever he was) left. It was getting late by the time they left the diner, and they took a taxi back to 22nd Street, Nelly and Maggie deciding that they’d forgo the dance hall for the evening.

Nelly had almost forgotten about Buster by the time she crawled into bed around eleven. She tried to drift off by boring herself with thoughts of baseball. Her father and uncle liked the White Sox, but she’d never really understood or cared for the game. Her only memory of the game she’d been taken to as a little girl was of eating hot dogs and popcorn and wandering the stands with Ruthie. Although she couldn’t say why, fantasies of men had not been satisfying since the incident with Tommy, not even her go-to of John Barrymore. The idea that a man might take up baseball or another sport he was abysmal at in order to win the love of a girl seemed laughable now that she thought about it, but Buster had done it—and more—in College. He’d even rescued the girl from his rival who was trying to ruin her reputation.

Her eyes shot open. She hadn’t thought of it until now, but Buster had rescued her that night at the blind tiger. Of course, he hadn’t done it out of a sense of love and there was no reading into the coincidence since the picture had been shot long before she’d met Tommy or Buster, but it struck her regardless. Maybe Buster’s pictures did reveal something of his character. As she puzzled over it, her thoughts got hazier and hazier, until finally she dropped off to sleep.

Note: Bonus update this week. I think you all deserve it after current events! Also, do admire this screengrab where Buster’s tan ends and his normal skin color begins.

#Buster Keaton #Fan fiction #Fan fic #RPF #Actor RPF #Golden Age Hollywood #silent films

18 notes · View notes

ask-the-childrenofrevolution · 3 years

Text

FOIOP Ch.1 A Typical Day

Beep...Beep...Beep. From a night stand an alarm clock buzzed abruptly, causing the sheets of the neighboring bed to shuffle around. A fuzzy hand soon appeared from beneath the sheets and clumsily swiped at the air as it tried to shut off the alarm. Eventually the figure removed the sheets off of them completely, revealing a young cat Mink. He had a pink nose that was surrounded by a light sand color that enveloped the entirety of his muzzle, even leading down beyond his neck. The rest of the boy’s fur was harvest gold, with light brown stripes that started from the tip of his ears to the end of his tail. The young Mink let out an inaudible grown as he finally opened his ruby eyes. Now that the boy was able to see his alarm clock, he was able to end the constant beeping with the press of a button. The Mink then proceeded to stretch his arms and legs before finally getting out of bed and heading to his closet. Inside was a wardrobe of one-piece suits, all in the exact same color and fashion as the one next to it. They were all white and blue with the symbol of the World Government on the front while the back was marked with “G-4”. The Mink seemed to ponder a bit on which suit to take before finally deciding to grab the one farthest to the right. From there the Mink then proceeded to the bathroom to prepare for the day. The first stop was the shower, being a Mink meant that taking good care of one’s fur was vital. A well washed coat could be the difference between a Mink being in good health or not. Once he was finished with getting dress the young Mink finally stepped out of his room and walked towards the kitchen where his dad was preparing breakfast. “Morning Charley! Today’s the big day, so I made you your favorite breakfast; pancakes with hash browns and scrambled eggs”! Came the enthusiastic voice of a Golden Retriever Mink. His tail wagged back and forth as he flipped a pancake over on the stove’s grill. “Morning dad. Where’s mom? Did she get called in to work early”? Charley asked as he grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “Yup, one of the McClatchy's young boys got a hold of Mr. McClatchy’s SEAHORSE and somehow managed to flush it down the toilet. As you can guess it wrecked the pipes which caused some flooding in water treatment, so the Over Admiral called in your mom and the other mechanics early this morning to go down there and patch things up.” Nugget said as he placed a stack of pancakes on Charley’s plate. “So, mom is literally knee-high in...” Charley cut himself off at the end to avoid cursing. “I guess she is.” Nugget responded with a light chuckle. The two then sat down for breakfast. Charley was able to finish almost half of his meal before his father spoke up. “Today’s the day you get the results from your GOAT, are you excited”? Nugget asked his son. The Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test or GOAT for short was a placement test that was used to place young barricade dwellers in existing barricade jobs based on their knowledge and talents. This test was made to ensure the barricade would remain up and running for generations to come. Charley took a sip of his synthetic orange juice before answering. “No, I’m actually really nervous. There are certain jobs in the barricade that I know I would be horrible at.” Charley replied as his ears and tail drooped. Nugget could see that his son was in a lot of distress, so he offered some words of advice. “Well, you’ll never know until you try, and even if you have a slip up it can be used as a learning experience for the next time.” Nugget said. Charley gave a small smile; he was always surprised by how optimistic his dad was. No matter how bad things got, Nugget could always find something positive out of it. “Your right dad, maybe I have a hidden talent for something or if I ended up in the diner with you, then I wouldn’t have to worry about royally screwing up since you taught me all I know about cooking.” Charley said hopeful. “See, that’s the spirit”! Nugget said as he playfully ruffled his son’s hair. Nearby the family’s antique grandfather clock chimed as the hour hand reached eight. “Well, I better get going, don’t want to be late for class.” Charley said as he got up from the dining chair. “Good luck and don’t forget what we talked about.” Nugget said. “I won’t.” Charley said as he strapped on his SEAHORSE and exited his home. Before we continue let’s dive deeper into what a SEAHORSE is. The SEAHORSE otherwise known as the Sustainable Electric Assisting Hazardous Obstacles Survival Equipment, is a nifty little gadget that was created by the scientist at Sea-Tec. This mechanical marvel is given to barricade dwellers on their twelfth birthday from the Over- Admiral. Worn on the forearm, the SEAHORSE is a multi-tool that helps barricade dwellers keep tabs on their health and items, as well as map out the user’s surroundings. It also has a built-in Geiger counter to warn the wearer of any radiation leaks within the barricade. The SEAHORSE is also equipped with a security identification system that only allows the user and any blood relatives to use their device, this system makes it easier for the next generation to access helpful information left by the previous generation. Charley had just taken the elevator with a group of his fellow students to the instructional floor. While heading down, the students were chatting with each other over what job they hoped to be placed in. With each passing floor Charley could feel his anxiety slowly returning. “It’ll be fine, it's not going to be that bad, just remember what dad said.” Charley said as he tried to console himself. From behind Charley felt a hand touch his shoulder, this made the cat mink physically jump as he let out a yelp of surprised. Charley quickly turned around and came face to face with his friend Johari. “Well good morning to you too.” Johari said. “Sorry Jo, you kind of caught me off guard there.” Charley said apologetically. “No worries C, but you seem a bit more on edge today than normal, is everything alright”? Johari asked. “It's the GOAT, my dad had finally managed to calm my nerves, but their starting to act up again.” Charley replied. “I think there are a lot of students who are in the same boat as you today.” Johari said. “Really? They all look quiet chipper to me.” Charley replied as he looked around the elevator at the smiling faces of his classmates. Charley felt his ears and tail drooped once more. “No way C, their all nervous. They're just trying to hide it behind hope and dreams about how cool it would be if they ended up as Over Admiral.” Johari said. “Over Admiral? Isn’t that being a bit to hopeful”? Charley asked. “Not really, anything is possible. Heck I hope I can be Over Admiral just to get my parents off my back.” Johari said. “They're still hounding you about studying to be a barricade loyalty inspector”? Charley asked. “Yes, and it's so annoying”! Johari groaned. “I keep telling them that those inspectors are nothing but narks, yet they keep telling me that my family has had that position for generations and that “Its what’s best for the barricade.” Johari said in a mocking tone of voice. Johari leaned her back against the wall before slumping down to the floor, lowering her head to her curled-up knees. “I don’t want to betray my friends.” Johari quietly told Charley. Charley sat down next to his friend as the elevator continued downwards. He had known Johari since they were babies, they grew up together in the barricade and she was often the one to protect Charley from any bullies that wanted to pick on the easily frightened Mink. After a deep sigh Johari looked up at the elevator’s ceiling. “Sometimes I wonder if life would be better outside of the barricade.” Johari confessed. Charley felt the fur on the back of his neck stand up. “Johari you shouldn’t say that in public, what if someone overhears you”? Charley responded as he glanced around the elevator to see if anyone had overheard Johari’s confession. “Besides, we don’t know what’s out there, if anything.” Charley said. “Even if there’s nothing but a black void beyond the barricade door, that would still be better than being a snitch.” Johari replied. Charley felt really bad for his friend, while his parents allowed and supported Charley to explore his interest, Johari was constricted to only following the path her parents laid out for her, any divergent was looked down upon. Johari’s parents were fully dedicated to what the Over Admiral thought was best for the barricade and would do whatever was necessary to ensure the Over Admiral’s demands were met. A sudden ding of a bell caught Charley, Johari, and the other students' attention as the elevator had finally reached the educational floor. Charley brought his attention back to Johari who was already up and heading for the exit. “C’mon we don’t want to be late for class.” Johari plainly said. Charley wanted to intervene but by then Johari had already left the elevator. The classroom was a buzz with students talking and gossiping with one another. Charley was quietly seated at his desk, still concerned over Johari. He really wanted to help his friend avoid getting the job she dreaded so much, but what could one Mink like him do? Charley let out a defeated sigh as the feeling of helplessness swarmed over him. “Hey furball”! Shouted Gus, the local barricade bully. The beefy teen wrapped his arm around Charley’s neck, not enough to cut off the Mink’s breathing but enough to hold Charley in place. “What do you want Gus”? Charley asked, more annoyed at the bully’s presence today than his usual fearfulness. “Today’s the day we get the results of our GOAT and I just wanted to let you know ahead of time that I like my burgers medium rare, capiche”? Gus said as he squeezed Charley’s neck enough to cause the Mink to try gasping for air. “c..c..capisco.” Charley weakly responded. “Good.” Gus said as he released Charley from his grasp. “Alright class, settle down.” Came the voice of Charley’s homeroom teacher Mr. Anderson. The class became quiet and turned their attention to Mr. Anderson. “Good morning everyone, I hope you all got enough rest last night because today we have a lot to go over.” Mr. Anderson said. Everyone in the classroom let out a groan of disapproval about the work ahead. Mr. Anderson let out a chuckle. “Alright, alright I’m just pulling your guy's legs. Instead, we will be going over the results of the GOAT.” Mr. Anderson announced. This immediately caught the class’s attention as they soon found themselves at the edges of their seats in anticipation. Charley though tried to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, sinking further into his seat while curling up his tail and flattening his ears. Mr. Anderson pulled out a metal briefcase and set it on top of his desk. A click could be heard as the latches of the briefcase came undone. Mr. Anderson then showed his class the sealed envelopes that were inside. The class stared on in awe and horror. In their teacher’s hand was the envelopes that contained their future. “So... Who wants to go first”? Mr. Anderson asked. The students looked at each other in terror, who would be the first one to take the plunge? Charley looked behind him to see Johari staring at the envelopes. He knew she was dreading the results and had the most to lose no matter what the outcome was. Maybe if his results were just as bad, Johari wouldn’t have to suffer alone. The young Mink nervously raised his hand. “Yes, Charley”? Mr. Anderson asked. Charley could immediately feel all eyes fall on him. He never liked being the center of attention and for a moment Charley thought of telling Mr. Anderson that he was only stretching or make the excuse that he just needed to use the bathroom, but looking at Johari Charley knew he couldn’t abandon her like that. With a lump in his throat Charley spoke up. “I..I.. I, Mr. Anderson I w..would like to have m..my re..results p..p..please.” Charley stuttered. “I’m very surprised Mr. Nolasco, glad to see that you’re taking the initiative.” Mr. Anderson said happily. Mr. Anderson searched through the envelopes until he found Charley’s. He pulled the envelope out and placed it on Charley’s desk. “Good luck Mr. C.” Mr. Anderson said. On the envelope was the GOAT’s logo, a little goat standing on a little hill while it chewed on some papers, behind it was a rising sun emblazoned with the World Governments symbol. On the flap of the envelope was Charley’s full name; Charley Nolasco. His family's maiden name Nolasco was a keepsake from all the way back to the first Mink inhabitants of Barricade G-4. From behind him, Charley could feel his classmates overlooking him. “Aren’t you going to open it”? Asked one classmate. “Yeah, let’s see what you got Charley.” Another classmate said. Johari managed to squeeze herself next to Charley’s side. Somehow having his friend by him gave Charley the courage to open the envelope. Dear Mr. Nolasco, We want to congratulate you on passing this big milestone in your life as a barricade dweller. The GOAT is an important staple in every barricade and ensures that everyone has a part to play in our fight for survival in this post-apocalyptic world. We here at Sea-Tec have made sure to carefully look over and review every GOAT to ensure that our young barricade dwellers are properly placed in positions best suited to their skills and abilities. After careful evaluation of your test scores Mr. Nolasco, Sea-Tec was rather impressed by your skills in judgement, problem solving, and negotiation. As a result, we are happy to announce that you will be placed as Barricade G-4's next Over Admiral upon the completion of your senior year of school. On behalf of all of us here at Sea-Tec we want to say congratulations on your big achievement and wish you the best of luck on your future endeavor as Over Admiral. Sincerely, Your friends at Sea-Tec.

Charley and his classmates stared at the piece of paper, mouths agape. Charley’s brain was having a hard time processing what was happening and the only thing that snapped him out of his stupor was Mr. Anderson. “That’s sure one way to start off the school day, congratulations Charley”! Mr. Anderson said with a smile. From beside him, Charley could ever so slightly hear Johari whisper her reaction. “Holy fucking shit dude.” Johari said stunned. The students around Charley were all looking at him, expecting a reaction. “What”? Charley asked. “I can see this is going to take some time for you to process this, so I’ll let you be for right now. In the meantime, does anyone else want to volunteer” Mr. Anderson asked the rest of his class. “What’s the point? Charley already has the best job anyone can get in this place!” Gus complained. “Now, now Mr. Dalton there are plenty of other exciting jobs here in the barricade.” Mr. Anderson assured. “Yeah, but that still leaves that furball as our boss.” Gus grumbled. Charley’s ears perked up at that. If he was going to be the one running the barricade, then maybe he can... “Charley Nolasco to the Over Admiral’s office please, Charley Nolasco to the Over Admiral’s office please.” Came a monotone female voice from the barricade’s intercom system. There came an echo of oohs as the students thought Charley had done something to warrant a visit to the Over Admiral’s office. As he got up from his desk, Charley felt Johari grab his arm. “Everything's going to be fine.” Johari reassured. Charley nodded his head before leaving the classroom. The Over Admiral’s office was located a level above the barricade’s atrium. As Charley headed up, his thoughts became occupied by the results of his GOAT. “I’m going to be Over Admiral, I’m going to be Over Admiral. How did this happen? What should I do? Am I even capable of handling all that responsibility”? Charley questioned himself. Charley soon found himself outside of the Over Admiral’s office. In front of the Over Admiral’s office were two barricade security guards, they stood armed and at the ready. Charley felt very uneasy around the armed guards. “Halt, no one is allowed to enter the Over Admiral’s office without and appointment.” One security guard called out. Charley froze on the spot, easily intimidated by the guards. “Um, I’m Charley Nolasco, I was instructed by the intercom system to go to the Over Admiral’s office.” Charley spoke up. “Ah, you must be Ratchet’s son. Great job on the test kid. Go right on in, Over Admiral Brand is waiting for you inside.” The guard said. Charley thanked the two security guards before heading into the Over Admiral’s office. A putrid stench hit the young Mink’s nostrils as soon as he entered. Charley was taken aback by the smell and felt like he was going to vomit, however he held back the bile once he saw his parents sitting in front of the Over Admiral’s desk. “Charley! I heard the big news, congratulations sweetie”! Said Ratchet. Like her son, Ratchet was also a cat Mink though instead of having the bluish green hair and golden fur, she instead had gray fur with a few darker gray stripes with Orchid colored hair. Ratchet tried to give her son a hug but stopped her advances once she saw her son covering his nose and backing away. “Sorry mom, no offense but you kind of smell like sewage right now.” Charley said. “I’m sorry hon, I was called in to the Over Admiral’s right after work and didn’t have any time to wash up.” Ratchet explained. Nugget stood close to his wife, not seeming to mind the stench. “Hey kiddo the Over Admiral just let us in on your GOAT results. I knew you would ace it”! Nugget said as he gave his son a big hug. “Ah Charley, glad to see that you were able to make it, please take a seat.” Said Over Admiral Brand. Brand was a finely built man, he wasn’t too muscular, nor too thin. He had slick back bronze hair and petite handlebar mustache with a few strands of grey. Brand wore a fancy suit reminiscent to those Charley would see the Gorosei wearing in old school books. “I was just telling your parents about your GOAT results. I have to say Mr. And Mrs. Nolasco you two have quiet the brilliant boy there. You must be really proud.” Over Admiral Brand said. “We most certainly are sir.” Nugget said. Over Admiral Brand noticed Charley seemed uneasy. “Is everything alright Charley”? Over Admiral Brand asked. “Over Admiral, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to get distracted in the middle of our meeting.” Charley apologized. “It's alright Charley. I was in the same position as you when I was told that I was going to be the next Over Admiral. It can be very overwhelming to someone so young, but thankfully those of us in the older generation are here to help guide the next generation into filling in our positions.” Over Admiral Brand said. Once young barricade dwellers had received the results of their GOAT, they would be assigned to shadow and study under an experience barricade dweller in their assigned job field up until the young barricade dweller graduated from school. Upon completion of their graduation the young barricade dweller would then take over the position of their retiring superior and thus the cycle of barricade life continues. Over Admiral Brand then got up from his chair. “Here Charley, take my seat, I think the future Over Admiral should get a good head start by knowing the layout of their work space.” Over Admiral Brand said. Charley looked on in awe at the fine leather seat before him, it was every bit as fancy as Charley imagined and every bit as comfortable. “How does it feel”? Over Admiral Brand asked. “Like I’m sitting on top of a cloud sir.” Charley responded. Over Admiral Brand laughed. “Charley, we are on equal footing now, you don’t have to address me as sir or Over Admiral, just Brand will do.” Brand said. “Thank you, sir... Brand.” Charley corrected himself. “No worries Charley, now let me show you some of the nifty features this office has.” Brand said. The Over Admiral showed Charley the basic functions of the barricade, from the security cameras to monitoring the vital barricade life supporting systems. It was a lot to take in but Brand assured Charley that he would get the Mink familiar with the barricade’s system during Charley’s internship. Charley noticed a small computer on the far left of the Over Admiral’s desk. “What’s that for”? Charley asked. Brand seemed hesitant but spoke up. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but that little computer there controls the barricade door.” Brand admitted. “The door can be opened”? Charley asked astonished. “It can, but it's still too dangerous on the surface for us to go out.” Brand answered. “When will it be safe for us to return topside”? Charley asked. “The World Government is keeping tab of things up there, once they deem the surface is safe to live on again, they will notify Sea-Tec, who will then notify all of their barricades that we can leave the barricade.” Brand replied. “And when will that be”? Ratchet questioned, a hint of suspicion in her tone. Charley’s mother was not one who would blindly follow orders, if she grew cautious of something she wouldn’t just let it go, especially if it put her family at risk. Ratchet’s rebellious nature usually left her bumping heads with the Over Admiral and the two could sometimes be heard arguing with one another from all the way in the atrium. “Now, now Ratchet. Let’s not ruin your son’s big day. I’m sure Charley here probably wants to celebrate with his friends and family.” Brand said. Ratchet dropped her inquiries, but only for Charley’s sake. “Speaking of your friends, how would you like to dismiss class early today”? Brand asked. “Our you sure we can do that Mr. Brand”? Charley responded. “Why not, you kids deserve a break after a tough test like the GOAT, plus an early dismissal is sure to earn you some brownie points with your fellow classmates.” Brand said. The Over Admiral then took the den den mushi on his desk and gave the microphone to Charley. Charley looked at the microphone and then back to the Over Admiral who gave a nod of approval. Charley grinned as he spoke into the microphone. “Attention class of Barricade G-4. This is Charley Nolasco with an important message from the Over Admiral’s office. As of now, all classes today will be dismissed.” Charley said as he heard his voice over the intercom system. From the floor beneath them, Charley could hear the whoops and hollers of his classmates celebrating their early release. Looking up at the security monitors, Charley could see Johari entering the hallway from Mr. Anderson’s class. Johari didn’t seem happy about class being let out and Charley didn’t have to guess that her down mood was related to her GOAT result’s. “Hey, Mr. Brand.” Charley said. “Yes, Charley”? Brand responded. “As Over Admiral would I have the power to override someone’s GOAT results”? Charley asked. “Unfortunately, that’s the one thing an Over Admiral cannot do. The Goat was designed by the World Government and Marines to ensure the survival of those in the barricade, they would be the only ones who could change the results of a barricade dweller’s GOAT.” Brand sadly responded. Charley’s ears and tail dropped once more with the thought of Johari being stuck in a job that would bring her nothing but grief. The Over Admiral looked at the disheartened Mink and to the screen Johari was on, a smile soon grew on his face. “However, there is a loop hole that can negate the GOAT if, let’s say there is an empty spot on the barricade council.” Brand said.

Charley’s ears began to perk up as the young Mink listened to the Over Admiral. “And Mrs. Palmer will be retiring soon...” Brand trailed off. Charley felt his smile returning as he realized what the Over Admiral was suggesting. “Then, I could have Johari fill in the vacant spot since Sea-Tec wouldn’t allow the barricade council to operate without a full cabinet.” Charley added. The Over Admiral nodded his head. “Although an Over Admiral can’t change the results of the GOAT, they can choose who can be on the council, especially if the candidate in question has good credentials and looking at your friend Johari’s GOAT results here, she more than qualifies to fill Mrs. Palmer’s spot.” Brand said. Charley felt like he could fly. This was it, for once Charley felt that everything was going to be smooth sailing from this day forward.

#one piece #oc #au #revolutionary army #world government #fallout #crossover #post apocalyptic #post apocalypse #nuclear #wasteland #barricade #vault

4 notes · View notes

douvle-eh · 4 years

Text

these are the days it never rains (but it pours)

Summary: Jason stays at the manor after an injury and learns a few things about Dick and maybe offer some comfort. Just Jason trying to be a good brother. Gen.

An: I love a good dad Bruce as much as the next guy but sometimes I also like to indulge in bad dad Bruce so….here you go. If you don’t like abusive Bruce (mentioned only) please don’t read this. Also don’t expect this to make any sense. My writing process works like this - I have random dialogue that pop in my head and at times it’s hard to make sense of what I’m trying to get thru but I just build the sentences around those dialogues.

-----

It’s raining.

Jason watches as the rain blurs the view from the huge window. A flash of lightning races by, thunder comes a few seconds later indicating that the storm is passing, though knowing Gotham the rain would be staying with them for another week before it clears up to its usual smog.

He lets out a sigh. It’s bad enough that he got hurt in a routine patrol; it was worst that the bat brats had run into him during his struggle to crawl to his safe house and had gone ahead and snitched to Nightwing. The blue bird had forced him to go back to the cave and together with Alfred, they were able to convince him to stay the night or until he healed (though they all knew he would sneak away before then).

Honestly, he would have chosen bleeding out in an alley way to this.

He turns back to the room. They’re in one of the smaller living rooms (Jason still rolls his eyes at the luxury of the manor, who needs multiple living rooms? He never did get use to it) the room is a warm neutral color and consists of two large couches, a love seat and two armchairs (one of which he’s currently sitting on) all positioned to face the large fireplace.

It amazes Jason that everyone is here, and when he says everyone, he means even Duke is here and Jason feels more like an outsider than ever.

He’s tried his hardest to stay away, making sure that he never accidentally run into them but surprise surprise here he is, talk about the worst family reunion. And though the tension between them isn’t as bad as it was before, it’s still awkward.

Duke and Cass give him curious glances, Steph smiles at him when he catches her eye but he hasn’t spoken to them in who knows how long. Tim glances at him warily as if waiting for him to start something, and Damian glares his way whenever they meet eyes. Don’t even get him started on Bruce. The man hasn’t even given him a passing glance. The only one who’s at least trying to pull him in a conversation is Dick and he doesn’t care for the look Dick is giving him, like a puppy who’s head butting you to get your attention because he knows you’re sad.

God, this was hell, sure he’s no longer activity trying to kill them, but they’re far from being a happy family. No matter how hard Dickie’s trying to keep the family together, it’s just too much hard feelings and not enough effort on all their parts.

Besides, the manor brings too many memories with it. Everything pretty much looks the same as it did when he was younger save for a few new pictures and knick knacks. The furniture is the same, the set up of the room, even the weather is the same.

He still remembers the time he spent curled up on the couch reading a book during rainy days as the fireplace warmed him from the Gotham freeze. Bruce would be by him reading his own book and kid him used to hope that this could go on forever, that maybe after all that life had given him that he finally found a place to belong. He remembers looking up at Bruce and getting a smile back, he remembers…he remembers… fire… pain… betrayal-

Suddenly, he feels like he’s floating, like his whole being is just his eyes, like he’s just watching everything happening as his body becomes numb. There is a crushing emptiness in his chest and he has the feeling of being closed in, the room is too crowded, too hot and the voices start to mesh together.

He needs to get out.

Jason takes in a sharp breath silencing the conversation between some of them and is ready to stand up (screw his broken leg). He pushes himself out of the chair and sees Dick standing up ready to help. He shakes his head at his older brother and starts to limp out but stops when he hears a clipped voice from someone entering the room.

“I do hope Master Jason that you’re not thinking about leaving.” Jason turns to the butler (grandfather & caregiver) before he pastes on a smile trying to ignore his siblings’ questioning gaze.

“Of course not Alfie, just gonna walk around a bit, I mean what do you take me for?”

“The fact that you’re not even supposed to be on that leg, much less be walking around; I would say an idiot sir.” Jason grimaces as the younger kids titter at that, he really should have just stayed in that alley and drowned in the rain.

He sits back down and carefully lifts his leg back up.

Dick pulls out a table which Alfred lays the tray of drinks on. He looks at him with a silent question of ‘Are you ok?’ and Jason just nods curtly at him; he really didn’t need the golden boy fussing over him acting like the perfect caring older brother. He knows that’s all bull anyways, just guilt and regret working behind those feelings.

He turns back to the eyes staring at him and narrows his own ready to let them know where they can shove it, but before he gets the chance, Dick interrupts. The eldest turns back to his younger siblings and smiles as he heads next to Damian on the couch. The younger ones gazes automatically follow Dick to where he sits. Jason snorts, Dick Grayson - Ever the center of attention.

“Did I ever tell you guys about the time Bruce and I convinced the whole league that I was a ghost?” Dick starts and Jason sees the family perk at this. Steph stands up and walks closer to Dick, a gleeful smile on her face.

“Oooo, tell me more.”

Dick leans back and throws a hand around Damian’s shoulder, collecting his thoughts before he continues.

“Well, when I was eight it was my first time at the Watchtower and I wasn’t really known as Robin yet, but I was able to talk Bruce –“

“Beg.” Bruce interrupts while Dick rolls his eyes.

“Begged Bruce to let me visit,” he amended before continuing “Anyway, so I went with Bruce to the Watchtower, I guess you can imagine how a lot of the heroes viewed Batman at that time. He was the dark knight all grime, vengeance and ‘I work alone’ hero and suddenly he shows up with a kid dressed up like a traffic light with scaly underwear…” Jason lets his brothers’ story become his anchor as the feeling in his chest lightens and the memories slowly unravel until they disappear for the night. He watches as Dick talks animatedly, he has the attention of everyone in the room as he makes them laugh about his shenanigans and pokes fun at Bruce when the man tries to add to the story or correct what he thought was a mistake.

Jason knows it’s immature of him but as he watches Dick he feels a sting of jealously for the easy way that Dick Grayson could make Bruce relax while he tells stories that to them sound like fairy tales. He’s sure that all of his siblings felt the same jealousy.

Dick Grayson was a charmer, charismatic in a way that’s different from Bruce, more genuine. Maybe it’s his background as a circus performer or maybe it’s because out of all of their siblings he was the only one really grew up with loving parents. But Dick Grayson could soften rock and mold it like clay.

Dick continues with another story from his childhood with Bruce. A Bruce none of them really know. The one who read bedtime stories with funny voices, who readily gave hugs and kisses and sweet nicknames and one who showed that he loved and cared. Of course Jason can’t fault him for it though, Dick was Bruce’s first kid, and Dick had just turned eight at that time, meaning Bruce had him when he was younger than all of them, when he hadn’t lost so many people yet and still had enough light and hope and control over his life.

Dick knew Bruce at a different time, he knew a Bruce that none of them ever had the chance of meeting and for that he was sure all of them listen to his stories with a sense of awe and jealousy.

Jason knows that Dick regrets it, had spoken to him enough to realize that the other man blamed himself for it. He had once confined to him before (under the influence) saying that he felt that his failings made Bruce the way he is, that he messed it up for his younger siblings, that maybe if he had been a better robin, son or partner that there would have been more of Bruce left for them.

Jason wished for that too, but it’s not like him to wonder too long about that. He can’t torture himself about what he should have gotten from Bruce as his son; he let his life be ruled by that long enough.

Dick turns to him and smiles, his eyes bright as he basks in his siblings’ laughter and their questions.

Yeah Dick was just the lucky one, the favorite, the golden child - it was nothing against them.

----

Jason wakes up in his old room and he’s surprised that he fell asleep in the first place. He stares into the darkness before he starts to get restless, he sits up quickly hoping to escape the memories creeping at the edge of is vision. Carefully he brings his legs down and pushes himself to stand wobbling only for a second before he’s limping out of the door. Jason knows that Alfred wouldn’t be too happy with him walking around his leg, but he can’t stand to be in his room right now.

He thinks maybe he should head for the kitchen to get a drink and see if they have any sleeping pills he could take. He hates those things but it’s better than roaming around the manor like a sad ghost. God wouldn’t that just complete his night.

He’s in the hallway but stops when he hears voices from the study. The door is cracked open and the voices are soft enough that he can’t really understand the words. Quietly he peeks in and realizes that the owners of the voices aren’t exactly in the room. Even with a broken leg Jason is able to skillfully lighten his footsteps and quietly push the door open. The study is empty but he can hear the voices a little bit clearer now.

When he steps in, he realizes that the grandfather clock that hides the cave is open and as he gets closer he can finally hear the voices. It’s Dick and Bruce, he sticks close to the wall as he tries to make sense of their argument.

Really he’s not surprised, Dick and Bruce had always had arguments, seems like they never really grew out of it. He should probably leave, it’s not like he never heard it all before, it usually had Dick trying to talk some sense to Bruce and Bruce arguing that he was wrong. He tries to turn when he suddenly hears his name.

“You need to get over yourself Bruce, Jason is up there and you can’t even say a single word to him. He’s taken the steps, he’s slowly opening up to us, but you have to do your part. You’re his father.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Bruce answers gruffly and Jason realizes that Bruce’s voice sound almost … distant. This wasn’t Bruce Wayne talking, this was Batman.

“How do you know? You’ve never spoken to him.”

“I’ve tried” Jason wants to snort at this; really he couldn’t have guessed with the way that Bruce has been acting all night, “it doesn’t end well.”

“Well, were you listening? And I mean really listening, not telling him what or how to feel or pushing your morals on to him.”

“He needs to understa-“

“He does, he’s trying!” Dick interrupts, his voice rising and Jason can just imagine him running a hand thru his hair in exasperation. “He hasn’t killed anyone in a while; he’s been using rubber bullets, he’s been curbing his anger even I can see it and I…I don’t know what you want from him Bruce.”

“He knows what I want.”

“No Bruce, he doesn’t and right now I don’t think even you know what you want. You’re just afraid.” There’s a silence between them and Jason slowly moves his leg to ease the weight, he thinks maybe they were done before Dick whispers out “You haven’t changed one bit from when I first met you.” Jason sucks in a breath as he hears the weight of disappointment and he’s confused. What did Dick mean that Bruce hasn’t changed?

Bruce is confused too and asks “What?”

“You’re still that same person from when I was eight. When I just lost my parents and you took me in. Don’t get me wrong you were great, you helped me and loved me and you were what I needed. You gave me a reason to go on but there were times when I felt like I was the one taking care of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I tried my best.”

“I know you did but I quickly realized that I had to deal with your emotions that you never dealt with when your own parents died and…and maybe the reason why we got along so well when I was a kid was because to me it felt like we were just two kids in a big house who understood each other because of our shared tragedies. But the moment I started to move on and leave my hurts behind I realized that you never would.” Dick voice sounds exhausted as he continues, “I was growing up but I still felt like I had to be there to support you. I had to become the adult for you, and I’m still doing that Bruce. Anytime there’s a situation where you can’t handle emotionally you start pushing people away. You’re so afraid of losing them and I have to come here every time to fix your relationship for you and to tell you how to deal with it. I’m just so tired - mentally, emotionally I was spreading myself so thin just so you could feel better about yourself.”

“I never asked.”

“Oh of course not...you would never ask for help, you’re so afraid of loving those kids Bruce but they already love you. God they would do anything for you and so would I, but I’m not going to let you take advantage of them and raise them the way you raised me. It’s too late for me because I can’t refuse you anymore, but I can fight for them. I know what it’s like to be at the end of your disappointment Bruce, you’ve brainwashed me into a pathetic robot that needs your love and approval.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is, you don’t know how much I’ve given up or done just to get your approval Bruce. My job, my friends, my own team,” At this Dick’s voice gets a little desperate as Jason leans more heavily on the wall next to the clock, “What more do you want, what more does Jason have to give up, he already gave you his life!”

“Get out.” The voice growls out and Jason steadies himself ready to leave just in case Dick come ups.

“No, this is what I mean Bruce, the minute I try to make you face your own emotions and-“

“I said get out!”

“-start acting like a father for once-“

“Leave!”

“No!”

“Get out before-“

“Before what?! You hit me again?!” Jason feels himself freeze at that, no, that’s…that not what Dick meant, sure Batman had beaten Jason before, but that was before he knew who he was and was pit-crazy. Jason is sure Dick didn’t mean that Bruce would hit one of his kids for no reason, he’s not like Willis. Bruce was always supposed to be safe. But Dick continues “…because you can’t control me or because you don’t want to hear what I have to say? Go ahead, blame me for everything! Hit me! You know I’m pathetic enough to come crawling back asking for forgiveness so just do it!”

Jason waits, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he prepares to intervene, he waits for a slap, a punch, anything. He knows that if Bruce did lay a hand on Dick that he would run down the cave and throw his own fists in even if he has to crawl down.

“That…was a mistake.” Bruce finally answers and he hears a short laugh, bitter filled and mocking.

“Of course it was, the first time.” Then in a tired voice he adds, “and I’ve forgiven you for all of them Bruce.”

Suddenly Jason feels so betrayed, not just by Bruce but by Dick too. Dick always tried to get them to talk, to open up, and to make sure that they didn’t end up keeping things inside so it didn’t eat them up or destroy them. He made sure that Bruce was treating them ok and told them to come to him should they feel the need too. Yet he hid in the dark his own troubles, and Dick for years had preached to them to heal and in shame he had wiped up his tears with a smile and hid ugly bruises and bloody lips in the dark shadows of their broken family.

Again he thought about what he had been jealous of Dick about. Yes, Dick knew a Bruce they didn’t, a Bruce who had less control of his anger, whose parents’ death still felt fresh especially after taking in Dick, and whose life for years had revolved around the mask and nothing else. Bruce had to learn to open up again and his mistakes left their mark on his oldest child.

The silence stretches and Jason wonders now if they’re done. He wonders who will leave first, Dick or Bruce? The answer doesn’t surprise him when Dick starts once again.

“Bruce…” the voice beseeches softly and Jason knows even after all that Dick is the one reaching out for forgiveness. Jason doesn’t think he can handle this anymore, he flees. Quickly he wobbles out of the study, he goes back to the hall way and finds his way to his room, the conversation still tearing thru his mind.

God he hates himself. He knows that Dick and Bruce never had a perfect relationship; he was there front and center for most of their fights when he was a kid. And just like how Dick knew a different Bruce Jason knew a different Dick, he wasn’t always the perfect brother; he remembers when he was an angry teen, one who had felt betrayed after his mantle had been taken from him. He remembers the glare that Dick had given him looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And he remembers the Dick Grayson who didn’t want nor care for that title of older brother.

He gets to his room and steadies himself on the nightstand as he sits on the bed. He grabs at his head pulling the strands of his hair, damn it damn it damn it.

He shouldn’t have listened in, he was perfectly content to imagine that Dick and Bruce had a great relationship and that everything had worked out after he died, because if not…what does that mean for him and the rest of his siblings? That if the golden child of the family couldn’t get approval from Bruce, was all their efforts and sacrifices all for nothing? Was his death all for nothing?

“Jay?” Jason turns to the door where Dick is peering at him, the light from the hallway shadowing his face.

“Knock.” He grits out and the older man tilts his head and even though Jason can’t see his face he knows that he probably has that damned look of his again.

“I did. Can I come in?”

“’sa free country.” Dick takes a moment before he walks in and sits on the bed by him.

“Nightmares?” Dick asks and Jason wishes it was. Nightmares he could deal with.

“Yeah sure.” There’s an awkward silence between them, Jason doesn’t know if Dick knew he had heard his argument with Bruce, so he asks. “What are you doing up?”

“Just…checking on everyone, Tim has a bad habit of staying up way past when he should and Steph and Cass sometimes gets the idea of baking in the middle of the night with Babs on the phone.”

Jason turns to look at the man and tries to imagine the bruises on his face. Imagines his excuses and his smiles and his avoidance of any questions about them with practiced ease, and they as non metas are used to making excuses for unexplained bruises.

Jason wonders how Dick could handle it, being in the presence of his abuser. How can he smile and joke and trust the person who’s beaten him down and made him feel less…but in a way he can understand. Bruce wasn’t someone you could easily leave and forget. Bruce could bring people together, push them to do their best and light up their passion to fight for something. He left you feeling like you could own the world, but the minute you turn to him for approval he stares back at you like you haven’t done enough so you push on, dragging your broken body and splintered mind begging for another chance.

Dick wasn’t wrong, Bruce had a way to make you feel pathetic. Hell, he was only with Bruce for a few years and he’s still chasing after the guys love and approval, he couldn’t imagine being under him for almost two decades and living thru all his drama and trying to make sense of his messed up emotions. Let alone managing it and trying to piece out the puzzle of his psyche so it could be presented as normal for others so no one else had to deal with it.

“Jay?” Jason looks into concerned eyes and realizes that he hasn’t said anything, “did you…want to talk about it? It may help.” Jason holds himself back from laughing mockingly at this, Dick was the biggest hypocrite. Yeah, talk about it; it’ll help Jason and all the while Dick tightened the reins on his own problems.

He thinks about taking the things he’s heard from the cave and just throwing it back on Dicks face, start yelling at him for his idiocy until he’s hoarse and shake his shoulders to get him to spill everything.

He wants to punch him in the face (and sees the irony of that) and tell him everything wrong with what he’s doing and if it had been him a few months ago he would have. Just let him have it and damned the consequences.

He knows that people see him as nothing more than a muscled wall of anger who doesn’t think and who lets his fists and guns do all the talking but Jason wasn’t just a bomb waiting to happen (barring the first few years after his resurrection). Many seem to forget that he was reasonable too. He was level headed enough and could fix a problem without his guns. Otherwise he would never make it as a respected crime lord or a vigilante that could hold candle to Batman himself.

So he tries a different tactic, maybe bring up his past and lay down a picture for Dick to compare to, or at least see how deep this rabbit hole went.

“I never really knew my dad.” He starts, trying to sound nostalgic, “He was in and out of prison most of the time.” Dick scoots closer and Jason sees him getting ready to comfort, his eyes are open and sad and Jason wonders how many times Dick has lent a shoulder to someone that his actions right now is automatic, that in just a few seconds his face and his eyes soften to look caring and empathetic.

“But when he was around … well it wasn’t bad, I mean it wasn’t like some other kids in our neighborhood. Just a smack here and there for talking back or not doing what he asked. He broke my wrist once, but …” He glances at Dick and he sees him nod understandingly urging him to go on.

“I deserved it.”

“No Jay,” Dick shakes his head, anger in his eyes and Jason can see how strongly Dick feels about it, “no one deserves that. That’s abuse, he had no right to hit you.”

Jason nods slowly; at least he knows Dick knows abuse for what it is.

“Yeah? Did your dad ever hit you?”

“Never.” Dick answers with conviction so Jason chooses now to strike.

“Did Bruce?” At this Dick stiffens and realization dawns in his eyes, he knows that Jason had heard. Jason watches as suddenly Dick puts up a guard, something unnamed flashes in his eyes and suddenly he pulls back.

“That…that’s different.”

Jason is quick to answer now, “Yeah, you’re right. I mean it doesn’t matter if he’s smacked me a few times then right? Or Tim or Damian?” Dick’s face suddenly looses all color before his jaws tighten and his hands ball into fists.

“That’s not fair.”

Jason laughs bitterly. “What’s not fair? That I’m calling you out for playing the martyr again?”

“I’m not-“

“Oh fess up, you don’t get to act like a self righteous prick and talk about how Bruce can’t face his problems when you’re doing the same thing.” They’re quiet again and Jason wonders if anyone else can hear them. He can see Dick’s hands shaking and he feels enough pity to give him a way out. “Fine, tell me this, the times that Bruce hit you, was it when you were in costume? Cuz, hey, I can understand that, it comes with the territory, but Bruce has no right to hit you outside of it.”

The silence is all that Jason needs to hear for an answer and he feels his blood boiling. He wants to ask, ask what led to Bruce hitting him outside of their costume, ask what he said and what he did that made him think he warranted Bruce’s fists, but as he stares at Dick he knows he won’t get an answer. Dick Grayson would rather die with his secrets than ruin any semblance of peace he has found between them. And Jason thinks maybe Dick is trying to do him a favor by not telling him.

“He didn’t mean it.” Dick whispers and they both know how that sounds.

‘They didn’t mean it’

‘They were just angry’

‘It’s my fault’

‘They promised it won’t happen again.’

It’s the loud slam of his fist on the nightstand that makes them both jump. Jason didn’t even realize how deeply he’s breathing, but he can’t help it, if he hears another excuse from Dick he’s gonna stand up and start screaming and wake the whole house. He’ll throw everything down and tear it all raw and all the anger and darkness in their family would be splayed on the floor. But he knows if he does that Dick would never be the same, no matter what anyone says Dick has been the main reason that their family is surviving, he’s filled the holes, hid the secrets, soothe the hurts. He’s given his blood, sweat and tears into making it somewhat functional. It wasn’t perfect, he failed many times (and Jason can’t help but be bitter about the fact that he’s one of those failings) but he also did a lot of things right. He never gave up on any of them and to tear it all down now would break him, because Dick was the heart of this family and the family was his heart.

And for all of Bruce’s flaws and secrets Jason knows he cares for them, either because they were useful to him or because they fit in his agenda of saving Gotham in a never ending mission. He can’t help but feel disgusted by the fact that he cares about Bruce too, that even with every secret that’s being ripped open showing Jason how messed up he is, Jason still cares.

But…he can’t let Dick keep doing this to himself, keeping those secrets. Hiding the emotional, mental and physical bruises. Someday Dick will break under that and the family will follow right after. He knows it isn’t much, (too little, too late) but he may keep the family from falling apart just a little longer.

“Promise me,” he looks Dick right in the eyes because he wants him to know that this isn’t arguable, “if Bruce lays a hand on you again that you come to me.” Jason finalizes what he has to say to make sure that Dick understands, “And if you don’t and I find out, I’m done. I’m out of this family.”

Dick tries to read his eyes while surprise, confusion and hesitance shine back in his own. The array of emotions doesn’t surprise Jason, he’s been slow to fixing his relationship with the eldest. And he’s been guilty of leaving everything to Dick when things go south, ignoring his pleas and outstretched hands when he needed help so much so that Dick learned to do things on his own while barely keeping himself a float. He figured out how to come up every once in a while to breathe before being pulled down again.

So Jason tries.

“I know that…that I may not be the first person for you to talk to and it might not mean a lot now since I haven’t been around but…“he tries to find the words, settles on the truth and aims to hit Dick where it matters, his sense of duty to their family “we’re the older brothers right? We protect the family. Together. It’s my burden to share.”

He can see Dick’s eyes shine before a fight starts in them, sees as Dick looks at every angle of his offer. Jason can slowly start to see the acceptance in his eyes but he also knows that Dick will always carry the heavier load on his own back.

“I’m not asking you to tell me all of your secrets Dick. Just like I will never tell you all of mine, I just want to be there when you deal with Bruce’s bull headedness and misplaced anger. That’s all I ask.”

Jason doesn’t know how long he waits, but he counts it as a win when Dick doesn’t automatically leave or smile it off.

Lighting flashes and the thunder echoes before Dick scoots closer to him. Before long he feels a weight on his shoulder as Dick finally lets himself relax even if it’s just for a little while.

It’s this that Jason realizes for the first time (at three in the morning on a rainy night in his old room surrounded by everything he left behind) that he finally feels like he’s part of the family. That along with his older brother they would keep the secrets together so that their growing family could someday find peace.

He lays his cheek on his brothers head and feels something expanding in his chest trying to lodge the ball in his throat out. No, this isn’t the time, Dick needs him to be the strong one right now.

So he pushes the feeling down and listens as the rain outside continues to pour.

END

Why can't we give love that one more chance?

'Cause love's such an old fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night

And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves

This is ourselves under pressure…

- Under pressure by Queen/David Bowie

31 notes · View notes