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just-dreaming-marvel · 1 year

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The Bond Between Us ~ 78

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,325ish

Summary: You have a long overdue run in with an old friend, creating two new friends while you’re at it.

Notes: Hope you enjoy this! I was excited to bring Ahsoka back into the story, even if it’s just for two chapters. (And I know the poll isn’t closed yet, but there’s a pretty clear winner so far.)

“Aunt Y/N! Aunt Y/N!” A four-year-old Ben exclaimed as he ran up to you. You were in a clearing near the house, meditating.

“Hello, Ben,” you smiled at him.

“Dad’s going to let me fly the Falcon!”

“Oh, is he now?” You laughed as you glanced up at Han, who was trailing behind the boy. “Have you told your mother about this?”

“She’s working.”

“How convenient.” You rose a brow at Han.

Han rose his hands in innocence. “It’s not that bad, alright?” Han tried to tell you. “Chewie is coming with us and he’ll basically be on Chewie’s lap the whole time.”

“And how long will you be gone?”

“Most likely a few hours. Not too long. I don’t even know why I’m looking for your permission, I’m the kid's father.”

“Because you know that I will react similarly to Leia.”

“Will you come with us Aunt Y/N?” Ben asked, looking up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

You were going to say yes when you suddenly felt a shift in the Force. It was a familiar one, one you believed was gone.

“I’m sorry my sweet Ben,” you said as you knelt down to be more at eye level with him. “Unfortunately, I have my own things to attend to today.” You didn’t miss Han’s curious expression. “Maybe another day.” You leaned forward and kissed his head. “Stay safe, and keep an eye on your father.”

“I will!” He was running off toward the Falcon before anything else could be said.

Han walked closer to you. “What’s going on?” He asked. “What do you need to do?”

“I… don’t know yet… But I’m going to follow the Force, see where it leads.”

“You haven’t done anything adventurous in a while. You need help?”

“I’ll be fine.” You looked past Han at Ben who was excitedly telling Chewie something. “Just don’t do anything stupid with the kid with you.”

“Me? Do something stupid?” Han scoffed. “Never.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

~~~

Following the Force, you flew by yourself to the planet of Corvus. You paused, hovering above the planet as you seeked the guidance of the Force as to where to go. After a few moments, you headed for the city of Corvus. You landed outside of the city, a good distance away. You noticed how the trees in the forest outside the city were barren and fog laced around them. There were red blasters going off at the edge of the city.

With a lightsaber in each hand, you slowly made your way to the edge of the forest to see what was happening. You hid behind a larger tree and peeked around it. The moment you saw those two white lightsaber blades, you gasped. You watched as the warrior took out the guards, using the fog and lack of bright light to their advantage.

“Show yourself,” a woman on the wall of the city demanded after all the guards had been taken care of. “Jedi.”

You felt like crying when you saw Ahsoka reveal herself. All this time, she had been alive.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the woman continued.

“Then you know what I want,” Ahsoka replied.

“You will learn nothing from me.”

“I won’t give you that choice.”

The woman motioned for two guards to bring up a prisoner beside her. “How many lives is the knowledge I possess worth to you? One? Ten? How about a hundred? The lives of these citizens mean nothing to me. Now, because of you, these people will suffer.”

“They already suffer under your rule. Surrender, or face the consequences.” Ahsoka pointed one of her white blades at the woman. “You have one day to decide.” Then Ahsoka turned off her lightsabers and disappeared into the forest.

You were so proud of Ahsoka. That, despite everything she’s been through, she was still fighting. You made your way back into the deeper part of the forest. Sensing that someone was about to strike you from behind, you ignited both of the sabers and moved them behind you. The white sabers clashed against your yellow and blue ones.

“Y/N?” Ahsoka gasped.

“Hello, Ahsoka,” you smiled.

Before either of you really thought about it, the lightsabers were deactivated and on the ground as your arms went around each other. You held each other tightly, tears threatening to spill from both of you. Ahsoka was the one to pull back first.

“How are you here?” She asked.

“The Force,” you responded. “I could feel you, after all these years, and I followed your signature… I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Somedays, me either.” She reached down and picked up the sabers, her eyes holding steady on one of them. “This one is Obi-Wan’s.”

“Yes.” You took your sabers from her and clipped them on your belt. “It helps to have it close… especially since I can’t have him as close as I would like anymore.”

She gave you a knowing smile. “I suspect we have a lot to discuss.”

“You have no idea.”

~~~

The two of you spent the night around a small fire, telling each other what life has been like since you last saw each other. Neither of you has had an easy life, both while in the Jedi Order and outside of it. Ahsoka explained what she was doing on Corvus, searching for information on Grand Admiral Thrawn.

“I wish I could help you on your quest,” you told her. “Unfortunately, I promised to watch out for my family.”

“I could never ask you to leave them like that,” Ahsoka said with a shake of her head.

“But, that doesn’t mean I can’t help you with this task. It might be fun, kinda like old times.”

“Like old times,” she smiled.

~~~

The two of you were working on a plan when you suddenly sensed another Force user. Your head snapped up as you looked around.

“Do you sense that?” You asked Ahsoka.

“A little,” she responded.

“Come on.”

You led Ahsoka through the woods, following the Force. You stopped before a clearing, seeing a Mandalorian and a green creature that reminded you of Yoda.

“You hear that?” You heard the Mandalorian ask. “Don’t worry.” He set the creature on a nearby rock. “Sit right here. Let me see what’s out there.” He looked around with a scope and sighed. “False alarm.”

You and Ahsoka nodded to each other before you both activated your sabers and jumped out at the Mandalorian. The two of you hit the Mandalorian but you quickly learned that his armor was made of pure Beskar, impenetrable by lightsabers. The Mandalorian used a flame thrower to burn Ahsoka’s cloak while tying you up with a rope shooting from his wrist. You jumped over him and a tree branch, freeing yourself. Ahsoka and you had him surrounded.

“Ahsoka Tano!” The Mandalorian shouted. “Bo-Katan sent me. We need to talk.”

Ahsoka saw the little creature on the rock behind the Mandalorian as she deactivated her lightsabers. “I hope it’s about him,” she said.

You turned off your lightsabers as you felt the child enter your mind. You headed toward him, Ahsoka doing the same thing. Kneeling in front of him, you offered him your hand, which he took it.

“Who are you?” The Mandalorian asked you.

You sighed. Keeping your Skywalker name a secret was still important. The risk of the Galaxy finding out the truth about Vader and Anakin was too great. Would you use Kenobi? You did marry him and had every right to use it. It felt more like a real last name than the false one you had used for years.

“I’m Y/N Kenobi,” you responded, still focused on the child.

“They didn’t tell me there were two Jedi out here,” the Mandalorian stated.

“They didn’t know.”

~~~

Night fell and you found yourselves surrounding a small fire in the woods again. You and Ahsoka were on the side, sitting in front of the child. The three of you were communicating in the Force while the Mandalorian paced on the other side. You learned that his name was Grogu and that he was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Grogu cooed as the three of you continued to speak. Finally, with a smile you picked him up and the three of you headed over to the Mandalorian.

“Is he speaking?” The Mandalorian questioned. “Do you understand him?”

“In a way,” Ahsoka responded. “Grogu, Y/N, and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”

“Grogu?”

“Yes,” you answered. “That’s his name.”

“Grogu.” The Mandalorian tried, earning the child’s attention.

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” explained Ahsoka. “Many Masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars, when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden. Someone took him from the Temple. Then his memory becomes… dark.”

“He seemed lost,” you added, understanding the feeling. “Alone… I’ve only known two other beings like this. Jedi Masters Yoda and Yaddle… can he still wield the Force?”

“You mean his powers?” Questioned the Mandalorian.

“The Force is what gives him his powers,” Ahsoka said. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

“I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. My task was to bring him to a Jedi.”

“The Jedi Order fell a long time ago,” you stated, a bit too harshly.

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts him. He needs your help.”

You held Grogu as he began to fall asleep. “Let him sleep. We will test him in the morning.”

~~~

Ahsoka led you, the Mandalorian, and Grogu to a different clearing with various sizes of rocks.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind,” Ahsoka said, booping Grogu’s nose.

The Mandalorian set Grogu down as Ahsoka picked up a small stone. She stood in front of Grogu and sent it to him using the Force. Grogu caught it with a coo.

Ahsoka held her palm out. “Now, return the stone to me, Grogu,” she said. He made no move to do so.

“He doesn’t understand,” the Mandalorian said.

“He does,” you replied. “He’s just scared.”

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka encouraged. “The stone, Grogu.” He waited a second before throwing the stone to the ground. Ahsoka sighed as she walked up to him. She took his little hand and used the Force to feel his emotions. “I sense much fear in you.”

“He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years,” you said. “It’s going to take time for him to realize he can use them without fear.”

Ahsoka stood up straight. “Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

“He’s stubborn,” the Mandalorian said when Grogu didn’t move.

“Not him. You. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”

The Mandalorian moved to stand beside Ahsoka. “That would be a first.”

“I like firsts. Good or bad, they’re always memorable.” You smirked at the saying. “Now, hold the stone out in the palm of your hand. Tell him to lift it up.”

The Mandalorian did as directed. “Alright, kid. Lift the stone.”

“Grogu,” you corrected as Ahsoka moved to stand next to you.

“Grogu. Come on, take the stone.” Grogu looked down. “You see? I told you, he’s stubborn.”

“Try to connect with him,” you advised.

The Mandalorian breathed deeply before pulling a small round thing from his belt. “Grogu… do you want this?” He held it up as he crouched down. “Well, go ahead.” Grogu reached an arm out. “That’s right, take it. Come on. You can have it. Come on.” Grogu used the Force to pull the small metal ball to his own hand. “Good job! Good job, kid.” The Mandalorian stood up to go to Grogu as you and Ahsoka shared a look. “You see that? That’s right. I knew you could do it. Very good.”

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” Ahsoka stated. “I cannot train him.”

“What? Why not? You’ve seen what he can do.”

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

“No,” you responded, knowingly. “All the more reason not to.”

“We’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight,” Ahsoka added, speaking of Anakin. “To the best of us. I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.”

You hated how you felt like this was hypocritical, yet what needed to be done. Anakin wasn’t the only one with attachments in the Order, you were attached to him and Obi-Wan. You wanted to say that you didn’t have fears and anger that led to the dark side, but what happened after Obi-Wan’s death proved that you weren’t free from that.

“I have delayed too long,” Ahsoka continued. “I must get back to the village.”

“The Magistrate sent me to kill you,” the Mandalorian said. “I didn’t agree to anything. And I’ll help you with your problem if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

You and Ahsoka shared a look. You knew of one other Jedi who was looking for students, looking to reestablish the Order that caused both you and Ahsoka pain.

“I know someone who might train Grogu,” you told the man. “But first we finish this.”

~~~

“She has a small army of guards armed with A350 blaster rifles, two HK-87 assassin droids, and a hired gunfighter,” the Mandalorian explained as you headed for the village. “He reads ex-military to me. Combined, not even your laser swords would be able to protect you from all that firepower.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Ahsoka warned with a slight smirk.

“True,” you agreed.

“Don’t underestimate the Magistrate either.”

“Who is she?” The Mandalorian asked. “She offered me a staff of pure beskar to kill you.”

“Morgan Elsbeth. During the Clone Wars, her people were massacred. She survived and let her anger full an industry which helped build the Imperial Starfleet. She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process.”

“Yeah, it looks like she’s still in business.”

“When you were in the city, did you see any prisoners?”

“I saw three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate.”

“We must find a way to free them.”

“A Mandalorian and two Jedi? They’ll never see it coming.”

~~~

The guards on the wall of the city weren’t prepared for what was going to happen. Ahsoka jumped up the wall first, easily attacking those on the wall. Once Ahsoka had rid the wall of the guards, you jumped up and between the huts. You being there needed to be a surprise.

“Your bounty hunter failed,” Ahsoka said as she stood in front of the Magistrate who was surrounded by guards. She threw a piece of the Mandalorian’s armor on the ground. “Tell me what I want to know. Where is your master?”

“Kill her,” the Magistrate ordered.

“Love to,” the man beside her responded, almost immediately firing at Ahsoka.

Ahsoka activated her sabers and began blocking oncoming shots. You flipped out of the shadows with your lightsabers activated to help.

“There’s two of them!” A guard shouted.

You and Ahsoka separated, going opposite ways to get the guards to split up. It worked almost too easy. You both took care of the guards before taking places on top of the inner gate. The Mandalorian was standing on the ground, facing the hired gun. You gave Ahsoka a nod before she jumped down, into the inner gate where the Magistrate was hiding.

“So, you threw in with the Jedi,” said the hired gun.

“Looks that way,” the Mandalorian responded.

You stood at the gate, watching over the two sides. You knew that Ahsoka wanted to handle this part alone, it was her quest. The grunts and sound of lightsabers clashing against beskar signaled that the fight was on.

“Who do you think’s gonna win?” The hired gun asked, taking a few steps toward the Mandalorian. “Could be your side… could be my side.” He continued taking small steps toward your new ally. “I got no quarrel with you, Mandalorian.”

“That’s far enough,” the Mandalorian stated, his hand going to hover over the blaster on his leg.

“You and I, we’re a lot alike. Willing to lay our lives down for the right cause. Which this is not.”

The sound of the beskar rod falling to the ground echoed through the air. You looked back to see that Ahsoka had won. Then turned back to see that the Mandalorian had shot the hired gun man. You jumped down to stand beside him.

“You know, I visited Mandalore once,” you said. “My… my husband loved Mandalore. His first love was Satine Kryze… I’m sorry about Mandalore. About everything that happened to it… I really am.”

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, choosing to look at a man coming out of one of the huts.

The two nodded at each other before the man shouted, “Behind you!”

You were faster than the Mandalorian. Before his gun was in his hand, you had activated your yellow saber and tossed it behind you, slicing the droid on the roof in half. Your saber came back to your hand easily and the man in front of you looked at you.

“I know who you are,” he said. “Jedi General Y/N L/N.”

“Please, it’s just Y/N now,” you told the man.

“Thank you, for helping us.”

You gave him a smile before waking away. You would never get used to how people knew you due to the wars you fought in, and you never hoped to.

~~~

As the city began to celebrate their freedom, you, Ahsoka, and the Mandalorian walked out. The three of you stopped outside of the main gate.

“I believe this was your payment,” Ahsoka said, holding the beskar rod.

“No,” the Mandalorian shook his head, “I can’t accept. I didn’t finish the job.”

“No. But this belongs with a Mandalorian.”

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian took it.

“Where is Grogu?” You asked.

“Back at the ship,” he answered. “Wait here, I’ll go get him.”

You watched as he walked off, feeling the emotions swirling within him. “They have a father-son attachment,” you noted. “That bond is… it can be dangerous if he’s trained.”

“Yes,” Ahsoka agreed. “Who do you think will train him?”

“I think that Luke will. But the two need to find each other. I am not bringing Grogu to Luke. If it is meant to be, the Force will find a way.”

~~~

Due to the time that the Mandalorian was taking, you and Ahsoka ended up showing up at his ship.

“You’re like a father to him,” Ahsoka stated as the Mandalorian walked down the ramp.

“Because of that, we will not train him,” you said.

“There is one possibility. Go to the planet Tython. You will find the ancient ruins of a temple that has strong connection to the Force. Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.”

“Then what?” The Mandalorian wondered.

“Then Grogu may choose his path,” you answered. “If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him.”

“There aren’t many Jedi left,” warned Ahsoka.

“Thank you,” said the Mandalorian.

“May the Force be with you.”

You and Ahsoka watched as the Mandalorian and Grogu went back into the ship. Grogu waved his small hand at the two of you, causing you both to smile. You stood there until they had flown away, then you turned to Ahsoka.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to leave,” you said. “But, I have a feeling our paths will cross again.”

“As do I,” she responded. She brought you in for a hug. “Please stay safe.”

“As long as you promise to do the same.”

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tdcloud · 4 months

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Happy New Year, everyone!

2024 is here and I, for one, am dead set on making this a good year. After the slog of 2023, I think we can all agree that we’re overdue for even an ounce of a break—or just some levity given 2023 forced me to take a break for the sake of my sanity. A lot has happened. A lot I wanted to have happen just… didn’t. Let’s talk a bit about it while I’ve got a moment in between festivities and go over the past year and what to look forward to in the next.

2023 is going down in my ledger as the Year of Burnout. As depressing as that sounds, as reductive as it makes it all be, it really is what lives strongest in my mind when I think about the past 365 days. As we all know, I’m very hard on myself. It’s why this year became Burnout Year. Every success I accomplish fades in my mind as I consider it against this… failure, I suppose, isn’t the proper word for it. People will get mad at me if I call “having burnout” a “failure”. But in my brain, that’s what it is. I had goals and I failed to reach them because my brain refused to keep to the abusive pace I’ve kept for almost a decade.

It’s going to take a lot of effort in 2024 to rewrite this reading of the situation. To some extent, I’m sure I’m going to be working at rewiring this mentality for quite awhile longer besides. But I have gotten things done. There have been successes, just not the sort I wrote in my schedule book at the start of 2023. I published once this year, not twice. I completed only a couple novellas, not the five I had wanted. There were multiple novel rewrites I wanted done this year. Only a few got done. Some, as it turned out, may require another rewrite entirely—my brain wasn’t working well this year, and what I managed to force out wasn’t good enough to fix what needed to be fixed.

Let’s take a minute to translate the above paragraph from its negative, downplayed bend into something most people would read it as instead: I published Ossuary, a novella so well received it saw my follower count skyrocket alongside my sales, making it one of the strongest breakaway successes of my career. I managed to write to completion three new novellas on Patreon, thus giving me enough of a editable backlog that I won’t need to write any new content for publication for at least a year or more—I’ll be able to take a very, very much needed break thanks to that, all without the pressure to create new work to publish. At long, long, long last, I finally finished the first draft of Hiraeth, the final novel in my very first series and a book I’ve been struggling to complete for about five years now. I rewrote half of Aubade, another old ass novel I’ve wanted to rework for years now. It’ll need a lot more work, but it’s now in a state that can be worked off of, not the mess I’d originally made of it back in 2016.

Even typing all of that, I’m at war with myself. It’s just… really hard to justify to myself what “success” versus “failure” is. Most people wouldn’t have been able to do even one of these things. Most writers would be lucky to have written one novella in a year, let alone the several I managed on top of the novel rewrites. I always say my resolution for each new year that passes is to feel pride in my accomplishments for once. I still haven’t figured out how to do that. Maybe this year will be the year for it. I don’t know. All I can do is try, and writing it all out helps, even if only a little.

I’m hopeful for other things for 2024, though. Things beyond my productivity and all the various things I want to produce or publish. 2023 has been… one of the hardest years of my life, to be honest. I don’t talk a ton about my personal life, but it’s been—difficult. This year, especially the last couple of months, hasn’t been easy. The political and world events aside, a lot of my friends have struggled, my family has struggled, and work has challenged me in ways that made it so difficult to come home and even think of writing that all I could do was lay down, put on a youtube video, and vegetate until the noise in my brain went silent long enough to let me sleep.

The stress surrounding recognizing my burnout and admitting to it publicly nearly ate me alive. Stripping my Patreon of rewards related to consistent output… There were several times this year where I stared up at the dark ceiling above my bed and wondered if I really should continue writing. They say never trust anything you think about your life after nine pm. The number of times I had to remind myself of that… It was just a lot.

But I’m hopeful. Against everything else, in spite of everything else, I’m hopeful for 2024. I’ve gone grayer than ever before, but the work I put in to reach even keel has resulted in a much more solid foundation for this new year. I no longer need to stress every month to meet my quota. The friends I worried so much about are safe, far closer than before, and thriving. My family has come together in ways we just… never did previously, and that’s something remarkable, and while work is still something I do to pay the bills, it’s coming together to actually offer me the sort of compensation that will help me achieve goals I could only dream of.

This is all very personal and lowkey sad, but it does feel good to get it out. I want to thank you all for reading these blog posts, commenting when you’re able, and just offering up kindness and attention to the efforts I’ve put in over the year. As I’ve said before, I’ve never been good at speaking to a dark auditorium and trusting that someone was listening even through the silence. The support I’ve been given means the world, and every kind word that’s been left in a comment, a review, a QRT, a reply, or just something said to me in person at a convention has gone so far in buoying my spirits when they were at their lowest.

So, here’s to 2024. Here’s to taking it slow, taking it easy, and above all else, being kind to ourselves as we do what we can and nothing more than that. I hope you all find the space to give yourself grace in ways I’m still learning how to do, and that you’re excited for what’s yet to come—because I do have plans, just not with hard deadlines for once.

As always, until next time.

T.D. Cloud

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shimmershae · 1 year

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My thoughts on the Walking Dead Series Finale, Rest in Peace.

Or did they change the title?

No matter. Spoilers ahead. So tread carefully through the lengthy landmine of my consciousness, lol.

Placing behind a cut because reasons. Oh and typos abound because it’s 3 am and I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since this episode so.

Some general thoughts about Season 11 and TWD in general—much like the season, this is gonna be all over the place so BEWARE and read accordingly

· Carol and Daryl deserved a better ending than that.

· Except for the images of all the characters we’ve loved and the ones we’ve lost along the way saying “we’re the ones that live”? I basically hated that Richonne coda. It was too long, too detailed, and too ambitious for a show that all too frequently in its latter season dropped the ball on the little things that would have paid off big.

· I’ve lost count of how many fucking time jumps this show has taken over the span of its entire run, but I do know there have been too many. Not only that but they’re always skipping valuable character moments and arriving at their “end destination” without any build up because, yep, they skipped it. What could have been forgivable a few times turned into one of this show’s biggest liabilities.

· So many characters just disappeared with little to no explanation. Off the top of my head? Heath. Cyndie. Hell. All of Oceanside was hand waved away this season. Virgil. Like did the dude die or what? And what of Annie? Negan’s insta-wife carrying his redemption-baby? After having comparable screen time to the show’s leading lady (c’mon, you know it’s true, especially in 11A and 11B), she just vanished.

· Speaking of screen time, what in the actual fuck were TIIC thinking sidelining their leading lady, their most talented actress, the heart and soul of the whole damn show? As Carol, Melissa McBride is an incomparable actress. Absolutely phenomenal. And as one of two OGs, she should rightfully have figured very prominently in the main storyline threads this entire season, not just had her appearances sprinkled over the last 8 episodes.

· Inexplicably, it seems Carol’s screen time was “given” to Maggie so that she might have a circular argument with Negan for 2/3’s of the season and only see any real forward momentum and emotional realism in the last handful of episodes. The final episode really. Given that she has her own spinoff with Negan, it makes very little sense and made for an extremely dull first 2/3’s of the season watching them basically meep, meep like the Road Runner on a treadmill going nowhere.

· About that “heart to heart”—I cannot overstate how much it pains me to call any moment between Maggie and Negan that, especially when the pair most deserving of a bonafide heart to heart only got the skim milk version when they should have gotten the full fat, vitamin D version-- in the final episode, it was overdue and I loved that Maggie didn’t pull any punches with Negan because the man murdered her husband with more glee than most children open presents Christmas morning and that’s saying something. He can seek redemption all the day long and keep “proving” himself. But does that mean he will ever “deserve” Maggie’s forgiveness? Personally, I don’t think so and feel it is selfish to want it. Negan suffering the realization of what he cost Maggie and Hershel frankly isn’t enough, IMHO. I don’t care how much the fangirls cry about his woobie face. He’s come a long way and morphed into a character I find multi-faceted and entertaining if not wholly likable during Angela Kang’s tenure and I appreciate that. But as his exclusion from Team Family’s Thanksgiving-esque feast following their last battle proves at least to me? He’s a bad man that’s done some good things not a good man that simply lost his way because lovelies? That road was lost ten thousand detours ago.

· Random observation. Or more like questions, lol. Just who in the hell prepared that big ass feast Team Family enjoyed in the finale to the tune of Stevie Nicks’ Landslide? Who had the energy? It couldn’t have been too long after the battle because generally Walker bite victims don’t tend to linger terribly long, unless TIIC threw their usual conventions out the window with Rosita. Which, come to think of it, wouldn’t be outside the norm. They’re always changing things to suit their current needs.

· Ah, Rosita. I knew she’d been bitten soon as she fell into that sea of Walkers and the fact she didn’t have any torn or disheveled clothing was an eye-rolling moment for me. Also that she wasn’t bleeding because that, to me, suggests the bite didn’t break the skin and you know. Maybe I haven’t paid that much attention to all the various Walker bites in the past, sometimes I simply look away because of the gruesomeness of it all, but usually it takes a break in skin for infection to spread. I guess she got the Bob treatment, come to think of it.

· All that nitpicking aside, Rosita’s sendoff actually had some very lovely moments. Once I pushed back on how pissed I was that TIIC were leaving another child motherless. Were killing a WOC who had only recently enjoyed added dimension in her character and story (although…Rosita, like Carol, seemed be to relocated to the back of the class in Season 11 after having much more impactful screen time in Season 10, a far superior season). Her goodbye scenes with the people she loved, particularly Eugene, hit hard. But even those didn’t tug at my heart near as much as her trying to soak up every last second she could of her remaining time with Coco. That made me ugly cry.

· Know what made me ugly cry that I was in no way expecting? Luke’s death scene where Yumiko and Kelly and Magna and Connie were covered in his blood and their tears, sobbing as they fought futilely to save him. I don’t know. I wasn’t attached to him. I liked him well enough in the very small doses we got of him. But I didn’t actually expect to cry over him dying. Especially since we hadn’t seen him all season and he was obviously brought back to be sacrificed for a bloody death. Angel Theory, Eleanor Matsuura, Nadia Hilker, and Lauren Ridloff were very convincing in their love and grief for him.

· Carol and Daryl were no less convincing in their worry for the little Ass Kicker they both love but to be honest? Judith coming to in the nick of time and finding superheroine strength while being seemingly severely injured (I mean, she had blood coming out of her mouth) to rescue Uncle Daryl in the opening scene took me out of the moment so bad I had a hard time taking the ensuing scenes with her life being in jeopardy seriously. That and she might as well be wearing chain mail because Scott Gimple done fucked up once (and many times afterward, he’s a rambling, riddler of a perpetual fuck up) before by killing Carl and you’d hope AMC would have learned their lesson by now. I personally think not, but let’s move on from that, m’kay? I’ll address more on the Carol and Daryl front later. If I do so now, that’ll be all I talk about because I have a lot of feelings.

· Was Jules’ death a callback to Noah’s in that revolving door because it kind of felt like it?

· Sorry I’m bouncing around a lot here but these “reviews” of mine are always stream of consciousness and hey. I’m basically a human Dug, lol.

· So Daryl wakes up in that hospital bed with a massive shiner and gauze wrapped around his head. How’d he get there? Who else felt cheated by not getting to bear witness to Carol seeing her Pookie passed out cold on that hospital lobby floor alongside Judith? Who do you think she went to first? Judith or Daryl? Who helped her get them to safety? She’s the only one that has been shown to have the bare minimum of medical experience and it makes little sense she wasn’t taking lead on amputating Luke’s leg, at the very least assisting; I’m not discounting Connie’s bravery. Anybody that’s managed to survive in their world and make their disability their “superpower” would have to be, but I don’t see her taking that initiative. Assisting, yes. But holding the knife? No. Same thing with Kelly. So that part rang a little false for me but whatever. Anyway. Don’t you love how we have all these time skips and scene cuts that skip the parts we’re always curious about? Just me then? Okay.

· I can’t be the only person distracted by the increasing visibility of Norman Reedus’s real life tats. I mean. Daryl keeps having all this ink showing up, continuity be damned.

· Carol stroking Judith’s hair while she’s lying on that stretcher makes me wish we’d gotten more scenes of the two of them together. Maybe one where Judith, missing her mom, asked Aunt Carol to brush her hair at bedtime. Maybe even braid it. I mean, they established in one of the earlier eps Carol had been taking care of the kids in Daryl’s absence. They definitely could have spared a minute or two giving us a heartwarming scene like that to show a few things—how much Carol loves Judith despite trying to keep her somewhat at arms’ length, how very much she still misses Sophia, and where she was sleeping in Daryl’s apartment when he wasn’t there and if she and Dog were still missing him and sharing cuddles. 😉

· They really missed the boat big time not having Carol help Siddiq in the infirmary at Alexandria. I mean, sometimes I felt like they were hinting at it. Remember when Siddiq called Carol on the radio for Ezekiel and Dante answered? He was like “she’s right here.” I’ll forgive them not doing more with that though because Season 10 was chockful of Carol and she had so much going on. I didn’t feel the need to fix-it fic her into the fold because she was quite literally the fabric of the whole season but again. Let’s not dwell on that because feelings. I got lots of them.

· Mercer’s reunion with Princess was cute. She scaled that big man like a Sequoia, lol. It reminded me of how much I loved the idea of them earlier in the season. I really hate they got the fast-forward insta-couple treatment thanks to those oh-so-lovely time jumps and scene cuts because their courtship would have been something else. Literally so much of Maggie and Negan’s storyline could have been skipped over in favor of them and it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference other than the audience actually being more entertained and less exasperated.

· Okay though. I have to wonder two things about how the fuck Lydia and Aaron came to be back at the Commonwealth. How in the world did Lydia manage to stay upright much less walk with as much blood loss as she sustained? Also? That blood loss had to have her smelling like a Happy Meal to those Walkers. I mean, logic says so anyway, but I guess we all know logic doesn’t live here in this place.

· Rosita finding and rescuing Coco and there being a baby each for her, Eugene, and Father Gabriel made me laugh, not gonna lie.

· The callback to Shane blocking Rick’s door with the stretcher was a nice touch.

· Come on. Am I the only one LMAO at the obvious doll legs and feet in those shots of Eugene and Father Gabriel climbing that pipe? I mean, it was definitely distracting. Again, I ask how the fuck a Walker bit through the thick material of Rosita’s hoodie. It’s not like those assholes have shark teeth. Oh well, abandoning all measures of believability, I enjoyed how much of a fight Rosita put up and was inwardly cheering her on even as I had to refrain from rolling my eyes.

· We were robbed of witnessing Carol and Daryl’s reaction to seeing Lydia. Robbed, I tell you. Then again, we’ve been straight up pick pocketed all season.

· Negan looking concerned for Judith and flanking Lydia was an obvious blink and you miss it ploy to remind us he’s not all bad and it worked a tiny smidgen because JDM’s a softie with kids.

· I love that Aaron has come around where Lydia’s concerned. She’s a sweetheart of a kid that deserves all the love and Aaron has a lot of love to give at his core and experience with the situation she’s now in but dammit. Carol was right there and Melissa and Cassady would have literally brought us to our knees with nothing more than another tearful hug to mirror their last embrace. Why AMC? Why?

· Gimple’s version of Negan could never. That apology was a long damn time coming. Long damn time.

· Finally, I don’t feel resentment towards Eugene’s scenes this episode. Like for so very much of this season, Eugene and Maggie have been Pac-Man and Ms. Pac-Man, gobbling up all the airtime with stories we felt no emotional connection to or were just tired of hearing about because nothing novel happened but in this episode? They were stripped down to the heart of the matter. Somewhere along the way I fell a little bit in love with Eugene’s friendship with Rosita. I never expected to. There was an ick/cringe factor in the very early days. That changed about the time Rosita firmly friend-zoned him. I felt sympathy for the guy then even as I cheered Rosita on for saying the words he needed to hear. So him sussing out the truth of Rosita being bitten and her reaction to that? It broke my heart more than I ever thought it would. Their “I love you’s” were sweet and made me tear up and they were shaded so much differently than another pair of “I love you’s” that touched a nerve with a certain faction of fandom. I bet you can all guess who I’m talking about without my naming names. 😉. I mean, it’s not the first time the two relationships have been in direct juxtaposition with each other, demonstrating the true differences between platonic and romantic love.

· The silent look that passed between Daryl and Carol as they sat vigil at Judith’s beside was intense and full of all the things they’ve never dared speak between them. No two do it better than Melissa McBride and Norman Reedus and that’s 100% fact. That said, the time for their long, long, long overdue “heart to heart” should have been right there in that very moment. Or at least the beginning of it. Because all that chilly distance Daryl’s been keeping between them all season melted with that look at her. He already knew his feelings. He tried to tell her then show her why it wasn’t like that before the cave in. And being faced again with the fragility and brevity of the one life they’re given? It just seemed like the perfect time for confessions to be made, even if they were in the form of a simple “I can’t lose you” echoed back to Carol this time. For apologies to be spoken and accepted. But the lazy AMC scribes relied on the power and magic of Melissa and Norman’s chemistry to do all the work for them like they have basically all season and seriously. Fuck that. Those intense gazes have lit me on fire each and every time all season but goddammit. We’re past time for words here. They’re the OGs. The OG ship. The ship to end all ships on TWD whether some people want to admit it or not. The least they warrant is an actual honest conversation where they stop dancing around the hot pink elephant in the room—they are in fucking love, your honor. Anyway. Let me nudge these thoughts along before I write ten more pages about that.

· Carol’s stroking Judith’s hair again and I can’t help feeling that the walls she’d erected around her heart to protect herself after losing Lizzie/Mika/Carl/Henry started melting like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day because she hasn’t been shown to be that tactile with Judith since the Grove. In that respect, what comes later, her staying to help care for the kids, isn’t as much a WTF moment as it could have been.

· The ensuing moment, however? Judith’s comment to Daryl—“Sorry I didn’t tell you before. I was scared that you would leave, too” and Daryl’s response of “I’m right here” definitely adds to the WTFuckery of Daryl’s ultimate exit.

· Ezekiel’s pontificating is an obvious setup for what comes next for him. And like, it’s been obvious all season. But I will say this. I personally resent the fuck out of him leapfrogging Mercer, a figure that’s already been established to have celebrity status with the people of the Commonwealth, someone that’s been there since the beginning, and having a leadership position. Their positions should have been switched but again. Logic has no rightful home in this place.

· It’s the small things. Carol and Daryl barely letting each other out of sight the whole episode makes my heart sing.

· Father Gabriel letting the people inside the walls, especially after the way he was introduced, really makes it strike home how much he’s changed.

· There would have been something poetic about Walker Lance ending Pamela, not gonna lie. But then we wouldn’t have gotten Carol being Queen of Sass with her so.

· Okay. The scene where they’re trying to corral all the Walkers to end them should leave me with more than the thought of “Wow, what a waste of all that fuel, it’s not like there’s an endless supply.” It was anticlimactic but whatever. I’m not here for the fights or explosions or the damn zombies. They could have mentioned it in a line of dialogue and I would have been largely satisfied at this point because we’ve lost so much time this season with so many characters. Carol was criminally underutilized until 11C. I’ll never forgive TIIC for that. Ever.

· “We already had to make an ugly decision. Kept you alive.” LMAO, I love it when Carol’s a savage queen. “…At least we don’t have to worry about who gets your house.”

· Glenn was beautiful, Maggie. So beautiful. I still miss my baby.

· The scene between Maggie and Negan where she tells him she can’t forgive him? It is literally the best scene Maggie has had all season. I don’t want to remember Glenn like that either.

· Who cooked a Thanksgiving feast? Who?

· Eugene watching Rosita with Coco. Mercer and Princess cuddled up. Carol smiling and laughing. Dog. All to the tune of Landslide. My heart is so full.

· Rosita watching it all and confessing to Father Gabriel about being bitten with Judith noticing had me teary again and I’ve always been in the WTF camp with Rosita and Gabriel. Cailey’s little face, though. The child has a bright future.

· Carol and Maggie helping Rosita to bed and saying their goodbyes. The way Rosita seemed to squeeze Carol a little extra hard. I mean, everybody seems to just sink into a Carol hug and I’m pretty sure that’s all thanks to Melissa. Wouldn’t you? I know I would.

· “We’ll see you again someday.” When Father Gabe said that to Rosita, I let out a little sob and I never liked them as a ship. I was full on crying when Rosita told Eugene she was glad it was him with her in the end.

· Another fucking time jump. When will they ever end?

· Eugene and Max naming their baby Rosie was a sweet touch.

· I still can’t get over them making Ezekiel Governor instead of second in command to Mercer.

· Sounds like Daryl and Connie only see each other when he visits the different communities. I have many words for that but I won’t say them, lol.

· Lydia looks happy. She deserves it.

· Negan giving Judith her compass back—I’d honestly forgotten she gave it to him, it feels like forever ago. So I’m guessing he finally left like Carol tried to get him to when Maggie first returned. That’s what I got out of that scene anyway.

· They didn’t show us the whole memorial wall so all I can see is what looks like NIE, but I’m guessing Annie and the baby didn’t make it. Which is honestly too bad. In spite of her convenient insta-existence, I liked her.

· So. This time jump starts at the Commonwealth, goes to Alexandria where we see Carol with her beautiful short curls and the kids are there. The way Gracie greets Judith makes it plain Judith and RJ aren’t at Alexandria anymore. Carol’s little running hug of Aaron is adorable. Lydia and Elijah seem to go back and forth between the communities. Carol and Daryl, too, as evidenced by them traveling from Alexandria to Hilltop. Sorry for the run-on, thinking out loud commentary, lol. I’m just trying to piece everything together.

· Oh my heart. There’s no longer distance or the symbolism of distance between Carol and Daryl. They’re on the same side of the river, literally side by side. I mean, they’ve been that way the whole episode but this is different and you all know why.

· Can’t help being a little resentful of Maggie’s talk about the future that leads Daryl away from Carol’s side. Because ugh. All that talk of “we have a future” and him spending chunks of it away from her. Ugh. Did I say that already? I don’t care.

· Carol saying it’s a beautiful day to head out and Daryl looking right at her as he agrees. I’m crying.

· Nowhere in the fuck of ever has Carol expressed any interest in having Hornsby’s job so fuck whoever decided to retcon that into the narrative.

· “It’s not like we’ve never gonna see each other again.” But can you promise that, Daryl? Can you? Tomorrow isn’t promised. The world is shit sometimes. I hate TIIC for separating them and for why? Why? I know why, spinoff reasons, but narratively why? Make it make sense. You cannot. It’s not like he’s going out to look for Rick and Michonne because a year has passed and it’s apparent he hasn’t ventured all that much further than their established communities. He’s been out “in the frontier” but not so far out that he and Carol and the kids don’t have regular contact.

· So. They left Hilltop and went back to the Commonwealth? Did Carol ride home with him on his bike? Did the kids take a wagon or train? Somebody explain this to me like I’m 5 years old, please. I can’t help thinking she clung to him on the bike ride home, neither one of them really talking about what Maggie proposed because they didn’t want goodbye to be even closer and then they had that emotional talk by the river and oh my heart. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

· They’re beautiful. I love them. Now and forever.

· So what? Are the kids staying with Ezekiel now? Aunt Carol? I’m a little lost.

· Judith promising to keep an eye on Dog and Daryl having her promise to keep an eye on Carol. He loves her so much. It’s almost like…you know what? I swear to god if they went canon off-screen and had their first kiss and everything but exchanged those three words…

· Judith looking at Aunt Carol while telling Daryl he deserves a happy ending too is obviously a subtlety lost on a certain faction of shippers and I cannot fathom why because it is so very loud, lol.

· The fact that Judith called him Daryl instead of Uncle Daryl makes me think he’s still involved in their lives and loves them very much but he’s not involved in their everyday lives and he’s distancing himself from them. Then again, it could just be that Judith’s growing up because Cailey has grown so very much since she first started the show.

· Speaking of growing up, dwell on this little nugget. Daryl’s been in Judith’s life from the start. Rick was only there for maybe the first 3 years. Like the man has missed the entirety of RJ’s life and the majority of Judith’s and then they had Michonne leave them basically searching for a needle in a haystack, no guarantee she’d ever find him or make it back to them, and now she’s missed what? Almost 2 years of those babies’ lives? I know the storyline was steered a certain way because of Danai’s exit from the show but it will never sit well with me that a woman, fictional though she may be, would ever leave her children to go on a search that might lead to absolutely nothing in such a dangerous world. Especially with her history of losing Andre. By the time Michonne (and Rick) makes it back, those kids could be half grown and that’s sad AF.

· That hug between Ezekiel and Daryl was a weird touch but hey. Maybe they’ve made their peace with each other and their respective places in Carol’s life.

· I mean, Ezekiel took those kids with him to give Daryl some privacy saying goodbye to her so.

· Carol waiting by Daryl’s bike. 😊 ☹. She’s never shied away from showing Daryl affection in the past. Pre the Prison falling. She’s been more reticent and careful since then unless they’ve embraced. Then she’s clung to him like a lifeline she never wants to let go of. The way she fusses over him and his poncho seems domestic AF and like something a wife would do. Plus, it’s giving her a reason not to look directly into his eyes because she doesn’t want to risk falling apart like she did a little bit at the riverside. Honestly it feels like she’s trying desperately not to ask him to stay. With her.

· Daryl telling Carol he loves her is a huge deal. HUGE. Carol saying it back to him is just as big because Lizzie is the only person we’ve ever heard her say it to. And look. I think she is trying to inject some lightness into a heavy moment because despite what she said to him while they were sitting on that bench? She doesn’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to leave her. He looks like he wants to change her mind before he rides off. She wants to make it easier for him and I want to die.

· I don’t think anything will ever hurt me as bad as watching him ride off without her. FUCK AMC for that. Because it didn’t have to be that way, solo spinoff or not. They could have still left together. They could have shared those “I love you’s” and a kiss 12 years in the making. If this episode wasn’t a springboard for the spinoffs like Gimple claimed it wasn’t? Why not give us and them the whole enchilada? It’s been more than earned. They could have gone all in on them, finally made clear that they were IN LOVE, had them leave TOGETHER, and then cut to a shot where Daryl wakes up somewhere by himself and calls out her name or vice versa. Same result. Still painful AF to think of them spending any time apart. But not without hope because they weren’t separated willingly or by some asinine reason that wasn’t even explicitly spoken. But I guess we all know why AMC didn’t do that, don’t we?

· UGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

· I’m not going to say too much about that coda. It was bad. The clips of dearly departed characters, though. The clips of all the people they and we loved and them saying “we’re the ones that live”? Those parts struck a chord and made my heart swell with remembered love for this show. They’re the parts that gave me chills. The other parts were dramatic but meh. Otherwise, I think having Rick’s voice crackle over a walkie talkie or just getting a glimpse of his silhouette or even having him wake up in a hospital bed again a la the very first episode would have been much more effective and not locked them into anything so far as the spinoff goes or given too much away. But that’s just me. Your mileage may very well vary. I did find it fitting it ending with that shot of Judith and RJ. So there’s that.

· Anywho. Those are just some of my thoughts and there’s a lot of them but this is just the tip of the iceberg. I won’t bore you with anymore tonight, lol. Er, this morning. Happy Thanksgiving, lovelies. I’m headed to catch a few hours’ sleep.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 spoilers #Series Finale spoilers #things that make me cry #for reasons #my heart

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dadbodfanatic-x · 2 years

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Paper rings; part 5

Jim Hopper x Original female character

A/N: no real trigger warnings for this chapter except language and spoilers for season 1 if you haven’t watched yet.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, maybe hopper to attack you the second he saw you again and kiss you immediately but unfortunately that’s not what happened. Maybe he was waiting for another perfect time or maybe he went home and decided he didn’t really want to kiss you after all but a part of your heart hurt nonetheless.

You had been trying to distract yourself lately, you had kept in contact with the Byers boys often after the incident earlier this year. Will had started a new campaign for D&D with his friends so occasionally you met him after school to help him and grab some food, mostly you just wanted to keep his mind on anything other than his dad. Jonathan had ran into you a few times outside of bennys but he never really took you up on your offer to talk, which was okay, what teenage boy ever wants to talk?

Lately, everyone in Hawkins had been dealing with power outages all over town. They were becoming more frequent and a lot of people thought it was cause for concern so they would phone the police. It was beginning to take its toll on Hopper. You spent most of the day fielding calls for him and leaving him in his office, when it was time to end the day you practically ran home. You were definitely not avoiding him.

The following morning you woke up a little extra early and took a little extra care getting ready so when you rolled into the station you really weren’t expecting to beat everyone there. Since it was still early you started on some long overdue paperwork, more than half the town was out of power this morning so most of your calls were complaints about that. Once your paperwork was done you decided to grab a cup of coffee, you made some for Flo and sat it on her desk and even made one for Hopper and left it for him.

“Damn you look like hell chief” oh well Hopper must be here. Fashionably late like always.

When you heard Flo give him his morning calls you half listened until you heard something that made your stomach drop.

“Joyce Byers called, she can’t find her son” you wanted to punch Hopper for his half ass reply

“Wait which son Flo? Will?”

“I’m not sure she’s in his office”

You ran in behind Hopper to see Joyce sitting by his desk smoking a cigarette. You listened to every detail Joyce gave and when Hopper had the nerve to question Joyce about Lonnie your head spun.

“Are you joking Hopper? After what we saw you think he’s with Lonnie?” You scoffed and Joyce looked grateful after your input.

Hopper groaned and gave you the same bullshit speech about how 99 out of 100 missing kids are with their parents.

“Last night was his D&D night, he would never miss that for fucking Lonnie. We’ve been working on that campaign for two weeks” Joyce reached out and grabbed your hand, you squeezed it hard.

“Find my son” she looked at you both before she left

After Joyce, you shut Hoppers door “why the hell would you even guess lonnie? The shit that man said to Will makes my skin crawl. HE WOULD NEVER”

“Look Nora I know you’re new to Hawkins but this stuff just doesn’t happen here..”

You could feel your blood boiling “new to Hawkins?! You probably couldn’t tell me one damn thing about Will, help me find this kid or stay out of my way Hop” you made sure to slam his door on the way out.

You ran home to change your clothes, a pencil skirt was not the optimal choice to trek through the woods to look for Will. You knew after that you should probably make a point to stop by the school to talk to the boys, see what time will left mikes last night. You actually ran into Hopper and Callahan there as they were pulling the boys out of class.

“He takes Mirkwood” Hopper and Callahan both looked at each other confused

“What’s Mirkwood?” He questioned “it sounds made up” Hopper groaned on

“It’s from The Hobbit” you and the boys spoke at the same time. The smile Dustin gave you was adorable.

“No you can’t help look, you are to go home immediately” Hopper had taken his no shit attitude voice out for this part. While you didn’t agree with how he was being about Will missing you did actually agree on this.

“Boys, I promise I’ll keep you up to date okay? You just need to go home and stay safe.” You we’re looking directly at Mike Wheeler when you said that part. Although you were almost certain the boys weren’t listening at all.

“No investigating. Do I make myself clear?” You rolled your eyes as the boys left.

“There friend is missing Hopper, maybe you could give them a little break” he turned around quick on his heels.

“Since when do you know about all this shit? The D&D and The lord of the rings?” He was looking at your dumbfounded and you realized Hopper didn’t know much about you at all.

“The lord of the rings and The Hobbit are some of my favorite books…and I’ve been meeting Will probably once a week or more since the situation with Lonnie happened to make sure he’s okay. He’s been telling me about the campaign for a long time. You have no idea how excited he was…” when you looked back up at Hopper he was smiling down at you. Callahan quickly cleared his throat and you realized where you both were and walked out of the principals office.

“Come with me we’re gonna check Mirkwood” you jumped into the passenger side of his cruiser and took off. When you reached the road Callahan and Powell got out behind you and began yelling for Will but you watched Hopper come to a stop and your stomach churned before you even heard it “hey I’ve got something…”

Will’s bike was laying in the woods off to the side of the road and you thought you were going to be sick “Hopper Will would never leave his bike somewhere…” you walked up and put your hand on his bicep “that’s how he gets around everywhere”

He looked down at you “he would if he was scared enough” you put your forehead on his arm. You stood there staring at the spot his bike was in as Hopper loaded it up to take it to Joyce’s house.

You could see the wheels turning as soon as Hopper stepped foot into the house, you didn’t like this feeling and you were beginning to think Hopper really thought something was wrong. Your suspicions only confirmed when you both walked into the shed and you saw the bullets laying out on the workbench “Hop…” and then the lights flickered and the power went off. You watched as he picked up the flashlight and began looking around the shed.

“Hey” Callahan called and you jumped out of your skin and so did Hopper.

“I’ve been calling you, are you deaf?” He groaned on to Hopper as you both walked out of the shed but honestly all you could heard was your heart rate quicken.

“Call Flo and get a search party together for tonight…” you nodded “and bring flashlights…”

Later that night you walked through the woods listening to everyone call for Will, you felt so uneasy it was hard to pull yourself from Hoppers side. He was the only one you felt safe with during this increasingly more stressful situation.

“He was a good student you know?” You heard a voice from behind you and you and hopper both turned around.

“I believe it, smartest kid I know” you said back to the man who later introduced himself as Scott Clarke. Middle school science teacher.

You half listened to him and hopper talking about some old teacher before you heard it “Sara, my daughter” Hopper mentioned. You heard them continue to talk about galaxies and universes but you were stuck on the same line over and over. A daughter, you didn’t even know Hopper had a daughter. You heard him mention that she lives with her mom in the city before he seemingly ended the conversation and took off ahead quickly.

You stayed behind figuring he seemed like he might need some time. You realized you didn’t know much about Hopper either.

“She died a few years back” a woman walked up to you both and mentioned.

“What?” You both said looking to her and then to each other “his kid” she mentioned before walking off and your stomach dropped. That’s why he doesn’t mention her, you thought.

And then the thunder cracked and the sky’s opened up and you thought Mother Nature might be feeling exactly like you because she unleashed all the tears she held in all day.

#stranger things #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper fanfic #chief hopper #will byers #joyce byers #paper rings #part 5

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ser-rctslcyer · 2 years

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Just My Love & I || Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Kit Arendale (Sephi! Transmasc! OC)

Word Count: 1.2k

Request: Hewwo my love!!!! Can I get Sephicaptain cuddling after a mission!!! Maybe they're finally able to settle for the first time in days!! nuzzling into each other & exchanging soft kisses!!!!! Maybe talks of going on a trip somewhere peaceful when everything is done?

Warnings: Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Cuddling & Snuggling

A/N: i wish nothing but fluffy good vibes for these two (and for you my love @mccnknightstcrdst)

The landing gear hissed as it hit the ground, making the ship jump a small bit. A sigh escaped Cassian, happy to be back on Yavin 4 and out of immediate danger. He unbuckled his seatbelt, standing up with a groan and giving K-2 a pat on the shoulder. The droid was uncharacteristically quiet, but seeming how their mission went he could probably guess why. He stepped off the ship, greeted with a soft warm breeze, and began making his way to the meeting room. He could make his briefing as short as possible and then he could return to his room and get the rest he needed. Footsteps rushed behind him and suddenly he lurched forward, to arms pulling him back so he wouldn’t fall. He blinked a couple of times, trying to register what happened until he recognized the pale lavender hands around him.

“Hello to you too, Pointy.” he laughed, fondly squeezing the arms around him. His smile grows wider from the little giggle behind him; the arms retract and he turns to face his lover. Kit grins as his ears flap happily– almost enough to distract from the dark circles under his eyes.

‘He’s just as tired as I am,’ he thinks, briefly wondering what his mission was like before a pair of lips meet his own. He sighs into the soft kiss, his hands instantly moving to caress his cheek while the other moved to hold his lower back.

“I missed you,” he murmurs and Cassian hums in agreement.

“I missed you too,” he brushes his nose against the Sephi’s; closing his eyes and letting himself their closeness. It’s perfect and he wants nothing more than to stay like this.

“I still need to do my briefing,” he sighs, brows knitting but he remains unmoving.

“How unfortunate,” Kit chuckles, pulling away; his bright blue eyes looking at him cheerfully, “see you after?”

“Always.” he pecks his nose, finally detaching himself from the shorter man before heading inside. He keeps his report as short as possible, leaving before they started plotting their next moves. He could hear about it later; for now, there was only one person he wanted to be with right now.

He walks briskly through the halls, swerving through people until he found his room. He entered, surprised to see it seemingly empty until he heard the bathroom door open. Kit stepped out, a towel around his waist while he dried his hair with another; a grin stretched over his lips upon looking up to see him.

“Left some warm water for you.” he steps forward, his hands finding his hips as he looks over his partner.

“Thank you,” he whispers, brush small half circles enjoying the softness of his skin. He can’t take his eyes off of his exposed self, the few clinging water droplets, and of course his slightly parted lips.

“Cassian.” he warns, already knowing what he was planning but the spy didn’t care. He kissed him passionately, tongue swiping over the inside of his mouth. Kit’s hands claw into his vest, tugging him closer and both of them whine— this affection was long overdue.

“Shower first, baby.” Kit pants quietly; his tongue darting between his lips.

“It takes so long though,” Cassian grumbles, pressing his forehead against his,“it feels like I haven’t kissed you in forever,” his complaint earns him a chuckle.

“Dramatic much, baby?”

“No,” he pouts, leaning in again, nipping at his lips before stealing another kiss.

“Starshine,” Kit murmurs, pulling away from his face “shower.” he repeats and Cassian lets out a sigh.

“Fine, sweetheart.” he lets go him, giving one last peck on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. The warm water is another treat he missed when away as he scrubs away the dirt and grime from his skin. He feels refreshed as he steps out, hair mostly dry and a towel hugging his hips.

“All done?” Kit asked, bunkered down in the bed, wearing his pale tan shirt and some boxers.

“All done.” he hums, putting on his pair before sliding in on the other side of the bed. He welcomes Kit with open arms, tugging him to his chest as he settles under the covers. He keeps his arms around his waist, while Kit’s hands settle in his chest; the two of them laying face to face, their noses brushing against one another.

“So you had a rough time too?”

“Didn’t get any info, and it went down from there.” he whispers, not wanting to focus on all the trouble he just go through.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay, I’m just happy to be back in your arms, starfire.” he kissing the corner of his lips, as his fingers begin dancing along Kit’s lower back.

“Me too,” he pecks his nose, “maker, it’s been a while since we’ve been away from each other for this long.”

“Mhm, it’s awful.”

“I agree.”

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Me too starshine.” he hums, fingers dancing over his bare skin. They stay like that for a moment, until Cassian gently shifts him into his back, hovering over the smaller man and resting his hand in his cheek. His blue eyes soften as he looks over his face; his lavender hand gently cupping the back of his own.

“Where would you want to go,” he speaks, surprised by the quietness in his own voice but continues, “once this is all over?” he tries to ignore his pounding heart as he peers down at the man below him.

“I don’t know, I never really thought that far.” the Sephi chuckles quietly, a small nervous smile stretching across his lips.

“Me neither, truthfully.” he admits bashfully, his brown eyes falling away from the sky. He had never pondered this question at all since this war began, knowing all too that his future could easily be just a dream. He never envisioned it but after two years of wanting, he had begun to have hope again he’d finally see the end. Though the silence builds his anxiety, thinking that for the first time, he had asked the wrong question.

“Somewhere quiet for sure,” Kit finally answers and he slowly looks back up at his lover, who’s smile is softer than the clouds he’s flown through.

“Where the wind sings softly and the grasses and trees dance all around us.” his other hand reaches up and strokes his cheek; his soft fingers gently scratching over his stubble.

“Our bed would be so much softer than this one and we’d have our own little fireplace.” he expresses with such conviction, he can almost feel the warmth of the fire in their home.

“The soft crashing of ocean waves echoing softly in our little home, as we’re all wrapped in our love.” he finishes and he can’t help but lean down and kiss him.

“I love how that sounds, angel.” he revels, blinking away the tears from his eyes.

“Did it on the fly.” Kit jokes, earning a chuckle from Cassian. He settles back down on the bed, tugging his lover onto his chest.

#cassian andor fic #cassian andor fanfic #cassian andor fluff #star wars fic #cassian andor x transmasc!reader #star wars x transmasc!reader #cassian andor x oc #cassian andor x transmasc!oc #rct fic

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lovemesomesurveys · 1 year

Text

Have you done any of the same things as me? [2022 Edition] by joybucket experienced something amazing and miraculous? 🤩 I mean, although I still have a ways to go there has been some significant progress.

switched to a new primary care doctor? Not technically, but my primary doctor has another doctor working there as well and the last couple times I’ve gone I’ve seen her instead. I don’t know if it’s a permanent switch, though.

tried a new medication? 💊 Yeah, several. I was put on a few in the hospital for some things and then when I got out my primary prescribed me anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications.

felt afraid to leave the house? That’s how I kinda feel right now. I just don’t feel comfortable or ready to do so.

had a new neighbor move in? Not the neighbors right next to door to me on either side, but I don’t know about the rest of the neighborhood.

met a new neighbor? No. I don’t know any of my neighbors.

read the entire Bible? 📖 I didn’t last year, but I have before a couple times.

had a smoothie that tasted really, really good? 🍹 I didn’t have any smoothies.

had some significant health issues? Uh, yeah that’s an understatement. Last year was horrific.

made a lot of surveys? I don’t make surveys.

taken a lot of surveys? Yeah.

gave yourself a significant haircut? 💇‍♀️ No, that was two years ago when I chopped it super short.

discovered a new YouTube channel you really liked? Yeah.

discovered a new favorite book? 📖 I didn’t read nearly as much as I normally do last year, but I read a few books and enjoyed them all.

re-read a book you really liked? 📖 Except for the Bible, I don’t re-read books for some reason.

debated reaching out to someone and asking for prayer, but didn't? 🙏 No.

started taking a new birth control pill? Nope. Never have.

experienced anaphylaxis? No.

...and then had to be on Prednisone for three months because of it? --

gained weight from a medication? Well, sort of in a roundabout kinda way. Like, that’s not the intended purpose, but it helped in other ways that helped me gain some weight.

...and then lost some of it once you were off the medication, but not all of it? My weight has been a big issue the past few years and while I have gain some weight, I’m still underweight. It’s taking awhile.

discovered you had steroid-induced diabetes? No.

daydreamed a lot? 💭 Yeah.

had overdue library books? 📚 No. I haven’t even been to the library since I was a teenager.

worn a mask? 😷 Yes. I wear one anytime I go somewhere.

worn a mask when cleaning, because you're allergic to dust mites? 😷 No.

went days without washing your hair? Yes. The most days I went was during my hospital stay.

felt overjoyed one day and then depressed the next? Not overjoyed, but decent. I have chronic depression, but there’s days that aren’t as bad or are bearable. With my medication I kinda just feel numb. I’m not crying all the time or feeling on the verge of tears all the time so there’s that.

thought about how much you missed going to church? ⛪️ Yes. I’ve slacked off the past month and I’m not proud of that. I also would really like to be able to go in person someday.

thought about how much you missed painting? 🖼 I don’t paint. However, I did actually do some arts and crafts that involved painting a few weeks ago with my aunt.

....and thought about how you'd like to start painting again? 🎨 I mean, little arts and crafts type stuff can be fun like what I painted last time were these cute little wooden boxes. I can do type of stuff, but I’m not a painter or artist.

found out that someone got hit by a car and died while crossing a street that you cross all the time? No. enjoyed watching the snow fall? ❄️ It doesn’t snow here. :(

wished you had a car? 🚘 I don’t drive, so I really have no need for one.

talked to your mom on the phone? 📱 Yeah.

talked to your mom online? 💬 No.

realized none of your bras fit you anymore? No.

received a package in the mail? 📦 Yeah, stuff I ordered online.

started watching Youtube Shorts regularly? No, I’m not into the shorts.

practiced self-hypnosis? 😵 No.

discovered a new food you really liked? I discovered I liked Cream of Wheat, which isn’t exciting, but it’s good and easy to eat for breakfast. Also, I didn’t discover wings and bean burritos last year, but I’ve been really obsessed and enjoy them more now than I did before. After my 3-month stay in the hospital and not being able to eat or drink anything, plus getting more nutrients and stuff, i’ve enjoyed food more than before. They taste better. Before, eating had mainly become a chore and it was really hard for me. It wasn’t something that I found enjoyable.

discovered your bike had a flat tire? 🚴 I don’t have a bike.

made a new playlist of songs you really liked? 🎶 No, but I added a few songs to my main playlist.

got rid of a ton of old clothes? 👚 Yeah.

ran/walked a Christmas-themed race? 🏃‍♀️ No.

watched your city's Christmas parade? We don’t have one.

enjoyed eating salads? 🥗 I haven’t had a salad in years.

enjoyed eating chocolate pie? Not a chocolate pie person. I was obsessed with cheesecake for a bit when it was one of the few things I could eat when I was able to slowly start eating again.

celebrated Thanksgiving alone? No.

celebrated your birthday alone? No, my mom, dad, and brother visited, but I was in the hospital and that sucked. Plus like I’ve said many times, I was unable to eat or drink anything or even do anything.

didn't really have a good birthday? No, I didn’t.

almost died multiple times? Uh, not multiple, but twice...

enjoyed reading the Bible? 📖 I didn’t read it much last year.

danced around your living room? 💃 No.

written in cursive? ✍️ Only when signing my signature.

written in a journal? 📓 Yes.

written in a one-line-a-day journal? 📔 No. Also, while I did write in an actual journal a bit while I was in the hospital, these surveys are like my journal entries as well.

accidentally dropped a dish and broke it? No.

went for a walk through the cemetery on Halloween? No.

not brought your camera with you somewhere, and then wished you had? 📸 I use my phone’s camera, so I always have it.

discovered a new really good book? You asked this already.

read a book with a character named Simone in it? No.

had a doctor get irritated with you? I kinda feel like one nurse did.

had a doctor not believe you about something? Not to my knowledge.

broke out in acne all over your face? No.

found out one of your friends had COVID? 🦠 My parents, brother, and I all did last year.

wondered if you had COVID? 🦠 Yeah, and I did.

played Mahjong on your phone? 🀄️ I have no idea what that is.

used a lot of emojis? 🦄 🤪 💃 I wouldn’t say a lot. Some people get too emoji happy, I tend to use them more sparingly as I see fit.

wore a cheetah-print mask? Nope.

worshiped God? 💃 Yes.

uploaded some new photos to Facebook? Yeah, during our trip for my dad’s birthday. That was the last time I traveled before shit really hit the fan and I wound up in the hospital.

sorted through some old photos on your computer? No. I don’t even have any photos on here cause It’s my brother’s laptop. Although, I only had like a few on mine cause I save photos on my phone.

wondered why your fridge was making funny noises? No.

gone for lovely and enchanting walks in the fall? 🍁 No.

wore the same outfit for days? Yes.

worn slipper socks? Yes.

gone out to eat with your parents? Yeah, during that birthday trip I mentioned.

enjoyed looking at your friends' baby pictures on Facebook? Sure.

wondered what one of your friends was going to name her baby? I don’t have any friends. In the previous question I was just referring to my Facebook “friends.” I haven’t thought about what they were going to name their babies.

wished someone would invite you to church, but no one did? No. I’d go on my own if I were able to.

took more medication than you were supposed to when you were in severe pain? Yes. I definitely had more in the hospital.

wished autocorrect didn't make so many annoying errors? it can be annoying sometimes.

wished your cramps would go away? Of course.

enjoyed having a conversation with a random stranger while waiting in line for something? No.

wished you could see your cousins more? It would be nice, but when i’m feeling better. I’m also embarrassed for anyone outside of my immediate family and my aunt that I’m close to to see me right now.

thought about how much you used to love church? I haven’t tuned in to the livestream service the past month and I’ve been thinking about how I want to get back on track.

had a certain traumatic incident keep coming back to haunt you? Something like that.

debated trying to get to know your neighbors more? No.

not eaten anything sweet on your birthday? Yeah, I wasn’t able to eat anything. :/

....for the first time ever, since you normally eat cake on your birthday? Yes.

eaten a lot of mango popsicles? No, I don’t like mango.

#2022 review #personal #text #survey #surveys

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alsjeblieft-zeg · 1 year

Text

320 of 2023

Which member of Metallica is your favorite? (Current or past)

I don’t really care about Metallica, I like only two or three songs of them anyway.

Grateful Dead: awesome or dumb?

I don’t even know what it is.

Any forums you enjoy?

Yes, there’s one forum I’ve been on in years, and it’s the only forum I really exist on.

Tweet much?

No, I hate Twitter.

Got any overdue library books at the moment?

I prefer to buy books instead of borrowing them.

Did you read Goosebumps as a kid?

I don’t think so.

Are you psyched for WoW: Cataclysm?

I don’t play video games.

What’s the best Zelda game to start with?

I couldn’t care less.

Final Fantasy games or Kingdom Hearts games? Or both? Or neither?

Neither, omg. What’s with these gaming questions?

If you had a Death Note, would you use it?

No.

Have you ever cosplayed? If so, who?

No, I haven’t.

Is “emo” necessarily a negative thing?

It’s not, but it’s not my cup of tea either.

Do you prefer to be called a nerd or a geek? Or neither? Or you don’t care?

I don’t care, I’m a bit of both anyway.

Do you have to pay rent/bills?

We split bills and my husband is the one to pay the rent and car expenses, I pay the media and food.

Do you usually pay for stuff with cash, check or card?

Card. I rarely use cash, only if necessary, and I don’t think I’ve ever written a check in my life.

Don’t ATM fees piss you off?

We don’t pay fees in Belgium. This country fucks us for money much enough already.

Is riding horses something we shouldn’t do anymore?

Ask people in Oostduinkerke, they even go fishing on horses.

Do you know anyone who never learned to ride a bike?

Yeah, my mum. She has some kind of balance disorder.

Have you ever been in a helicopter?

No, I haven’t.

What do you think about giant pandas?

They exist, it’s cool.

Do you want a cat or a dog more?

I wouldn’t mind having a German or Belgian shepherd dog, but I’m much more of a cat person and I even have two cats.

Are you afraid of bugs?

No, they annoy me.

Ever seen a kinkajou in real life?

I habven’t heard this name before.

Do you know anybody with dentures? Who?

Yeah, again my mum. Also my husband and Melanie, but she has lost her teeth in an accident.

Do you have any idea how to build an igloo?

I have absolutely no idea how to build it.

Have you ever read a National Geographic magazine?

No, but I know they existed.

What is the most popular tourist attraction where you live?

Historium, and the whole city centre. UNESCO list, you know.

Could you (willingly) go ten days without touching a computer?

Yeah, I’ve done that before.

Are you someone who puts a decent amount of emojis in their texts?

Yeah, I always put them.

Have you ever been crowned king or queen at a school dance?

School dance?? wtf.

What was the last music you listened to?

Djent, I guess.

When was the last time you had a sore throat?

I do now, it’s been a month already.

Do you know anyone whose gender is non-binary?

Yes, quite a few people, but mostly online.

If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do?

Honestly, I don’t know. He’s still one of my best friend and I still consider hhim attractive, so.

What are your parents views on your relationships?

They had a hard time accepting that their son likes other guys, but eventually they got over it.

If you ran into your current boyfriend/crush in 10 years, would you marry them?

I’m married lol.

Is your best friend dating anyone?

Which one? I have more than one. Most of my friends is married anyway.

Would you rather have sex with your boyfriend or break up?

Have sex, although it’d be only for his benefit.

Do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of Facebook?

I don’t even have Facebook.

Ever called someone a slut?

No. I don’t care what others do with their lives.

Have any embarrassing pictures on Facebook?

I don’t have Facebook, it’s lame.

Would you ever wear flare jeans?

Nope. Neither skinny jeans, by the way.

Do you text in class?

I don’t.

Do you edit your profile pictures before posting them?

I use my photoediting skills for my photography account on Instagram.

What is one thing someone could say to you right now that would make you cry?

Nothing. I don’t cry.

How kinky are you?

Not at all. I’m a boring dude.

Can you change oil in a car?

Yes, I can.

Do you wear a bath robe?

I don’t.

Black olives or green olives?

No olives, ew.

Are rollercoasters scary or thrilling to you?

Scary.

Can you do a cart wheel?

Not anymore. My left arm is weaker.

Do you ever find things annoying if too many people like it?

No, I don’t care who likes what.

Which do you like better: cacti, palm trees, or maple trees?

Maple trees.

What type of tree do you see most of where you live?

Linden trees, chestnut trees, maple trees.

Have you ever seen fireflies?

I can’t recall.

Have you ever picked out a song to listen to on a juke box?

No, are they even still a thing?

When’s the last time you were genuinely freaked out?

Today. I lost my wedding ring somewhere and I can’t find it.

Have you ever thought that you were honestly going to die?

Yes, and I almost died for real. I suffered a brain haemorrhage that day.

Animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out?

...what?

Whose name might you have tattooed on your body?

No one’s. Maybe my sister’s, if I had to choose, but I don’t like the idea of tattooing names.

Who might you send a selfie to?

My husband or my sister, or Nielsje, because they know what I look like. Not like I enjoy taking selfies lol.

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them?

Yes, I’ve had one like that. It was when I was younger, and now I’m wary of online friendship.

Do you check the weather forecast regularly?

Yeah, but still I don’t dress properly.

Did you go to AM or PM kindergarten?

Mornnongs to afternoons, like everyone here.

Have you ever given birth?

I’m a dude, I don’t think it’s biologically possible.

Is your mom mentally stable?

Nope, far from it.

Did you start listening to more Michael Jackson after his death?

No. I always liked a couple of his songs, but I didn’t immediately become his fan after he died.

What song reminds you of your best friend?

Juno by Tesseract.

What was the last kind of snake you saw?

I don’t remember seeing a snake in person, but I’ve seen many slowworms in my life, and they don’t count as they’re lizards, not snakes.

Do you think you’d make a good parent?

Nah, I’d rather make a cool uncle.

What’s something most people don’t know about you?

That I have epilepsy. They don’t know because I take medication to prevent seizures, but my family and direct workmates have to know so they can help me if needed.

Could you seriously have sex using a colored condom?

Yep. Who cares about such things anyway.

What’s your least favorite flavor of candy?

Strawberry and cherry, which is weird because I love fresh strawberries and cherries.

How has your health been lately?

Better. I had to stay in the hospital for two days in February, because they messed up with my meds, but since readjustment, I’m doing okay. I just have to remember that my disorder is incurable and I can only block the symptoms with medication.

Your significant other or crush, do they align with any label?

What kind of label? My husband is likely aromantic bisexual, for example. I have a friend who is FtM trans man. I’m a homo-oriented quoiromantic ace myself. So it depends what this question is really about.

What shaped you most in your life as a person?

I think that brain incident and being diagnosed with some chronic, incurable disorders. I just felt like I have to reevaluate my life.

Have you made any life-altering decisions lately?

No, earlier on.

Do you think the last person you texted is a virgin? (You don’t have to tell us who the person is, just say yes or no.)

My husband and no, he had someone before me.

Do you miss anyone? If so, tell me about this person you miss.

I miss my parents, my sister, Nielsje and these two guys I know. I miss my friend who used to call me “his little brother”. Each in different way.

The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner?

I don’t use conditioners at all. I guess I’m not the metrosexual type of a guy.

When was the last time you visited the doctor?

February, if you count the ER in the hospital.

When did you last see or speak to someone you dislike? Why do you dislike this person?

I saw that most disliked coworker of ours last Thursday, and I dislike him because he apparently does everything to be far from likeable.

Can you remember the last time you felt emotional? What was the reason?

Last Thursday I heard one of our coworkers passed away suddenly.

Do you call your partner “baby?"

Nope, we both dislike such names.

Does your washer make a lot of noise?

What washer? I don’t have a dishwasher.

Does the last person you spoke to have any siblings?

Yeah, my dad has a brother and sister.

Does your best friend ever wear fake nails?

No, my best friends are guys.

What’s the last thing you searched on google?

One famous local actor, more specifically his age.

Have you ever seen the last person you hugged naked?

Yes, he’s my husband after all.

Do you have any limits on who you drink/eat after?

Wut?

Have you ever jumped on a trampoline in the ice?

No, why would I?

#survey #q&a survey #random survey

0 notes

keefwho · 2 years

Text

August 03

5:33 PM

On some level I was telling myself that my anxiety was alright. I did all the work and I’m good to go. Obviously that can’t be true. Today I’m realizing it, and dealing with some of it right now. I feel stressed because I feel like I have to hang out with people tonight and I might just not want to, because I’m afraid. I’ll do the right thing and take this time for myself like I should, but I don’t like letting people down. I know at least 1 person who always says he understands but really doesn’t, and likely suffers because I need this me time. I don’t like that.

I keep feeling unsafe but I know I’m not. Its REALLY hard to just let go of my body telling me there’s a threat, even though I know there isn’t one. It feels so silly. I just want to enjoy my night. I need to be compassionate towards myself though. This really isn’t my fault. Its a runaway thought/reaction process that’s evolved and been unchecked for years. Of course it’s going to be strong and hard to deal with.

I should recount everything that makes up these thoughts and feelings. Write down everything that I don’t like and need to work on. At my core I feel like I’m overdue to become sick. It’s been 12ish years since I have been. I feel like I SHOULD get sick. Every day I watch for symptoms. If I detect one, no matter how small, the snowball cycle of thinking starts until I’m in a panic. I’ve been real good about that part lately, I haven’t been panicking. But the problem in general rests on my mind at all times. I started doing things I haven’t done in years. I feel my lymph nodes every couple hours. I take my temperature once or twice a day. It can help to have proof that nothing is wrong, but the act of doing these things is fueling the problem. I feel unsafe leaving my home with no quick way back. I’m scared to commit to social time or livestreams because on some level I’m ‘stuck’, in the sense that I can’t suddenly leave without letting someone down or making someone worry.

I think I should pick up that book I was reading again, I kinda stopped halfway through. I shouldn’t have.

9:17 PM

I can’t say I feel alone anymore, but I did for a long time. I watched a video today that covered something I think is very relevant to me. I felt alone because I wasn’t finding people who could share their feelings in a healthy way. Basically people that don’t hide who they are from others. Im lucky to have found a solid few that I really connect with and appreciate.

11:18 PM

Just stop THINKING. Most of my problems come from OVERthinking. I just want to be smoothbrained sometimes so the problems slide right off.

I’ve just been kinda ADHD lately. I gotta actively force myself to focus on specific tasks and plans. Things I know are better for me, vs things that only feel better.

11:30 PM

Still thinking whether or not I should be addressing some things that might be better off suppressed? With how much it’s been bothering me lately, I feel like I have to. I greatly fear the consequences though. Everything could be fine if I just, don’t. FUck.

11:42 PM

Damn this journal being public, I’m not afraid to rant to strangers but who knows who could be reading this that I actually KNOW. No matter, this is about me documenting my personal problems for my own sake. Im going to assume I am safe.

I think accepting my fear as an emotion led to accepting basically all my feelings, which has been very enriching and interesting. The issue I’m facing is that I’m starting to consider romance again. I’ve been adamant about being single since high school since having these kinds of feelings never ever went well. But to be fair, I was a cringy emotional high schooler. I still believe in being single, in the sense that a partner shouldn’t be a requirement. I want to be able to stand on my own. I am beginning to see, however, that it could be a very nice thing to have. I used to be repulsed by couples or romance, but I honestly think it’s because I was jealous. I did want something like that, but I knew I was in no place to actually uphold that kind of dynamic. But now I’m starting to view myself as a dynamic and growing person. Like I’m getting to know MYSELF for once. And what I’ve learned is that I am once again open to the idea of becoming more intimate with someone. Maybe not DATING, that’s a whole can of worms on it’s own. But doing the kinds of mushy things couples usually do. I don’t want to get lost though, my main goal is still to be a pillar for myself. I want to operate effectively as my own entity, but with some help occasionally. THATS been the real issue here. I’m becoming obsessed with these feelings like a kid with new toys. It’s hard to reign it in, but it probably will on it’s own after a little while. It doesn’t help that I haven’t really had an outlet for this kind of thing. How do I get this out??

#journal #anxiety

0 notes

from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Note

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

#i call this fic how many commas can i use in one sentence?#i think this is by far the most crack thing ive written #poor jess #in this house we worship and praise jess the secretary and her thrity second cameo in that ONE scene #if u see a typo no u didnt #the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts

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lovesick-panmess · 3 years

Text

Protect Them

Soo I know I'm way overdue with the 3rd part of my Armageddon AU but I've actually been replaying the lessons so I get a proper feel for what I'm writing, so to make up for it and to get this idea out of my head I've been thinking about it for days here is a related fic between the oldest brothers

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Levi can count on one hand how many times he's seen Lucifer coming home injured. The Avatar of Pride could easily crush irrelevant demons with his glare and he proved worthy of Diavalo's right-hand man for a reason... But the first time that Levi remembers was on a travel mission with Lord Diavalo within a year after their fall from grace. It was a distant memory, seeing Lucifer stumble up the stairs blooded up and adamantly refusing care from any of them, even Mammon who was following behind his every footstep. He had gotten used to such behavior and just settled for turning up his headphones on his way to the safe haven that was his room, stopping when he noticed the eldest's door cracked open. He watched Mammon gingerly wrap the bandage around his shoulder, blinking back tears in his eyes and shaking his head vehemently as Lucifer spoke. The music was loud and distracting he just settled for reading their lips-

"Mammon I need you to do this for me.."

"I won't! There's no need, ya just paranoid-!"

Watching the tears well up made Levi shift, uncomfortable and jealous, wondering what bond allowed them to be so vulnerable so open. Hadn't they all fought their father together? Rallied behind him so readily behind Lucifer, their Morningstar that only shined a light that only Mammon was allowed to see. He lingered before continuing to walk down the hall, to dwell in his own sunken loneliness but hearing Mammon speak one more time before the door had shut.

"..I'll do it, alright? Just stop ya crying, Luci.."

He had felt the deja vu of that very moment playing out in front of him, though this time he was hiding from Mammon in his secret spot in the living room. They had planned to go to the movies in an hour and Levi knew that Mammon would try to find him to convince him to pay for the tickets yet again so he decided to wait out the time so that scumbag would have to bring his wallet. It was a surprise to see the door open, everyone else is out and Lucifer's return to be scheduled for a few more days, but instead, the eldest had come early with visible wounds and beatings. Levi felt frozen, debating on whether he should slip out to help or stay putt but once again Mammon comes down the stairs like it's his calling. "Lucifer? Let me help you!" Denial was the first given reaction, the eldest's heart too hard and stubborn to ask for help before collapsing into Mammon's arms.

Levi followed with anxiety brewing in his chest, now wanting to just hide away in his room since plans were clearly on hold and he could do nothing to help the pair. Not like they would want his help, a shitty pathetic otaku wasn't much good at bandaging wounds, not like he was able to get much practice like Mammon did. Jealousy seethed, it made his heart race as he hid to the side of the door at the mention of his name.

"We have to tell him, Mams."

"We don't have to tell him shit! It's fine like this...Levi doesn't have to be involved."

It was confusing to be thrown out of the loop, but it hurt to hear Mammon so effortlessly fight to not include him. Maybe the second-born felt that Levi wasn't worth it? Too weak and unable to do..whatever it is they are arguing about, even so, it was odd-looking into Lucifer's room. Mammon unafraid of the eldest's temper and even being so bold as to glare at him while cleaning his cuts, Lucifer had an expression of utter fondness that was intertwined with an unlabeled fear, one that only he seemed to see.

"Mammon, you know it takes a lot out of me to..admit this. I'm almost jealous that you're able to view me so..."

Shit shit shit, he had been so entrapped in their conversation and his own envy he hadn't realized that it was emitting throughout the hall. He stiffens when Lucifer calls his name, slipping out from where he was hiding and now embarrassed. "Levi..come here please." He notes that Mammon refuses to look at him, biting his bottom lip hard as he sits next to his brother, so not used to this soft tone from him. He really must have stepped into a completely different world, one where Lucifer is willing to fight tooth and nail with his own pride in order to tell them the truth. And what a horrid truth it must be.

"Lucifer what's going on? Why is Mammon..." He trails off, feeling Lucifer's hand skim through his hair, and despite his own embarrassment leaned into the comforting touch and suddenly the bottle of Demonus was looking very tempting. "Levi...I would like to involve you in something very important, in order to protect the others." Lucifer's words were slow, each one taking some kind of will to overcome his pride, his wings twitching in what Levi could easily place as anxiety and one he knew way too well. "I'm not allowed to say anything about the threat outside of the Devildom but it puts us at risk and I...There may be a chance I won't come back."

His stomach drops, he doesn't realize that he's shaking until he feels Mammon's arms wrapping around his shoulder, shaking his head in pure denial. Not Lucifer, the most powerful one of them all, their eldest brother not coming back. Such thoughts were unfathomable to even believe, much less considered as a probability to the point that they had to talk about it. Acknowledge it and take action, Lucifer keeps talking and Mammon presses Levi closer to his chest, "I talked this with Mammon since the beginning but now we believe it's time to tell you in case something were ever to happen to the both of us and you would decide when to tell Satan..."

The prospect of such responsibility makes Levi feel like a fish out of water as he gulps for air yet in that same breath go on a rampage of self-deprecation and drowning doubt. How he's not ready, he's a good-for-nothing shitty pathetic otaku, he can't protect his brothers, he's weak, he's nothing, if Lucifer and Mammon are gone then there would be no fucking hope for them. The two oldest look at each other, small bits of regret building up from the pressure and burden they had put on him, Mammon gently rubbing his back and Lucifer cupping his face. "Leviathan please breathe."

His body does it automatically before he can think about it, the air in his lungs felt like boiling water as the panic slowly dissipates in his chest. All that was left was his own soft mutterings, so sure that Lucifer was probably disappointed that he has to trust in Levi of all people to protect them, he leans against Mammon who nudges him affectionately before resting his head on his shoulder. "I...I haven't really done anything good since...I was General...how can you be so sure in me?" He asks but squirms unready for whatever the answer might be, though he's unable to mistake Lucifer's radiating pride that he feels.

"Who's the one who came up with the plan on where to steal the weapons in the Celestial Realm?"

"M-Me but I-"

"And who helped convince the others to lay low while we defended the base?"

"I did but Luci-"

"Who's the one who took an arrow for Mammon while he was trying to protect me?"

"Lucifer-!"

He gets cut off with a flick on his forehead, his lips set in a pout but meeting the Morningstar's expression that made butterflies bloom in his stomach from overwhelming pride had him turn away and looking down at the floor. "Levi, get out of your head for one second and look at how smart and tactical you are. When it matters...when there is no time to panic. You're the third strongest family for a fucking reason, you should start believing it." The unusual confidence makes him flush but it's really Lucifer's words that bring the tears, no longer from fear but slowly coming to the realization that Lucifer and Mammon too had faith in him...they always did.

"Do ya still wanna join the pact? If ya wanna think about it, ya still can Levi." He blinks at the fact that Mammon had really been silent this whole time and just hugging him, the second born now getting up to tighten the remaining bandages. "Did you think about it, Mammon?" Levi knew the answer in his gut, only the blind would question the unwavering devotion that Mammon and Lucifer had for each other, only further cemented as the Avatar of greed simply shakes his head. He feels a small smile form on his face, "Then I don't need to think about it...I want to do this."

By the next few hours, any of the remaining tension and somber feelings had slipped away, replaced by a calm atmosphere that usually would not last long in the House of Lamentation. The melody of the cursed record floated and hung in the air as Levi rested on the floor in his demon form, the pact officially made and learning about the secret doorway by Lucifer's bookcase, definitely locking that information into memory. He sees Mammon grinning above him, curiosity embedded in his features, "So where'd ya decide to put the pact mark?" Levi lifts his sweater, the symbol of the three still glow fresh on the side by his ribs, and Mammon hissing with empathy.

He wanted it to hurt weirdly enough, to serve as a forever reminder that this pain was temporary but the pain of losing his brothers would surely last till the end of time. Mammon shows the mark on his hand, Lucifer clicks his tongue in disapproval as someone might ask about the pact but the second brother waves his concern away. He enjoys looking at the pact, the constant reassurance that they would be okay when the word goes to absolute shit, and Lucifer couldn't find any argument against that. They both look at the eldest who crosses his arms with a sharp, "No-" before puppy eyes come into play and Lucifer's pride can not save him from that.

What they both don't expect is for Lucifer to turn around and spread his wings out as if to show off, but then they see it. The markings trailing up his spine and next to the scars of where his two wings used to be, Levi is the first to reach up and touch it, internally blaming the remnants of Lucifer's pride that is making him so bold. He sees his hand tremble but luckily he is able to hold his voice steady, "Just because we made this pact..doesn't mean you both get to just fuck up. Y-You both should always come home." Lucifer nods, Mammon kisses his cheek and Levi struggles to hide his tears.

When Levithan leaves the room while closing the door behind him, reality, as he knew it just a few hours ago, wasn't all that different and he can hear Asmo drunkenly cheering as Satan carries him through the door. "Hey, Levi! Don't hide in your room- you better come join us." He doesn't give his thoughts a chance, heading down the stairs with a small smile. The world hadn't changed, but Levi would be forever.

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AHHH THIS HAS BEEN SITTING THE DRAFTS FOREVER I'M SO GLAD I FINISHED IT. Please please let me know if I should make an explanation post of how the pacts would work (it will most likely be headcanons cause I don't know how they work in canon 😪😪)

either way, I really hope you enjoyed the fic as I did writing it! I'm still working on the next part for the Armageddon AU so bear with me 😭

#obey me #angst #lucifer angst #mammon and lucifer #obey me angst #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date?#obey me leviathan #levi angst #mammon and levi #mammon angst #Lucifer angst #armageddonau

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

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