#Might still never come across them though but- they do exist in the world so. always a possiblility

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like A Lamb

**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.

Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.

He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.

John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.

The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.

How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?

John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.

With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.

The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.

He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.

~~~

Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.

“What do you think it is, Danny?”

He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.

“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”

For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.

The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.

That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.

Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.

“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”

“Adopted?”

“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”

Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.

“Why did he- what made him do that?”

Pandora ruffled his hair.

“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”

~~~

“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”

Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”

“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”

John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.

He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.

Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?

“Fine. What are the details?”

Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.

“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”

“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”

The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.

As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.

The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.

The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.

This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.

Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.

And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.

“Hi.”

The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.

“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”

Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”

“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”

Bless Diana.

“Can you leave the circle, young one?”

The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.

“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”

John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #john constantine #eldritch danny #dp x dc crossover #ghost king danny

[bipp-bopp-time-to-stop]

Far More Than Just A Mask

I'd like to thank @cloudninetonine for giving me the confidence to come out of the shadows and start posting the fics I write. I haven't really posted anything before, so I'm still figuring out how to use the Tumblr posting format. I'd also like to shout out @yanderelinkeduniverse @neverchecking @gliphyartfan @luimagines @yourlocaltreesimp and @wayfayrr as I was also inspired by their writings and content in general. To whoever stumbles across my fic and enjoys it, please go give these amazing people some love! With that being said, I'd also like to express my gratitude towards @linkeduniverse for their amazing work as their comics are what this fic is based off of. I hope everyone enjoys!

TW: Yandere themes, blood, possession, creeps be creepy

Your entrance into this journey filled with world hopping and a band of men all dubbed strange and woefully bad nicknames was… interesting. Thankfully enough, it wasn’t a truck send off level of isekai but it wasn’t the go to sleep and then wake up somewhere else type either. No, it was deciding to venture out at night for a rather dumb reason, immediately get lost, stumble across a strange portal, proceed to be chased into said portal by a pure black shadow with red eyes, and then stumble around in a forest you very much didn’t recognize. And then, of course, you stumbled across them.

They had dubbed their group The Chain since they were all Link (based on the expressions made when you were informed of this, it was clear who did and didn’t like the idea). After the initial shock based, you were suddenly bombarded with questions about… everything, really. The sheer amount of attention, combined with knowing a lot more than you should (in their eyes but they didn’t need to know that to the full extent), caused you to freeze. Well, internally freeze. As cooly as you could, you tried to answer the many questions thrown your way as truthfully as you deemed necessary.

“What’s your Hyrule like?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have one? What does that mean? Are you before Hyrule exists or did your Link… fail?” “I just don’t have one. It… never existed. A lot of what exists for you doesn’t for me- not outside of fairy tales, that is. Magic, fairies, multiple civilizations of different species, and more.”

“Why are your ears clipped? Is it a sort of fashion statement or a punishment?”

“Neither. I’m not Hylian, I’m human. Humans are similar to Hylians but we don’t have pointed ears and are usually a little taller than the average Hylian.”

“Why are your clothes so… weird…”

“They’re not weird to me. You guys certainly are, though.”

And the questions continued. After days of asking questions, which quickly broke past barriers and dug deeper than you were comfortable with, The Chain relented a little. It was clear as day that they didn’t trust you, not a bit, but they still “added” you to their little entourage. Dark Link, or Dink as they called him, had still pushed you through that portal like it did for the rest of them. Meaning, somehow, that you were fated to be a part of the Chain even though you were very far from being a Link. In truth, you knew probably half of them believed you might be colluding with the entity and were simply keeping tabs on you. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say.

Thankfully, you weren’t a complete dead weight. You didn’t mind doing chores since you surely couldn’t battle. Despite some of your “exotic” looks (largely your ears, they’re still getting over that), merchants and townsfolk seemed to open up a bit easier to you. Plus, a lot of creatures from the mundane to mystical quite liked you for whatever reason. Were you not in the Champion’s Hyrule, that may not have stuck out as much as it did. On top of that, you knew first-aid better than most of them did. You were no genius in medicine, but you knew enough about the human body (thank you Forensic Files). You also had the “remedies” your Nana often chose over medicine- a lot less helpful in your world, but far more useful in nearly any Hyrule given the more mystical nature of, well, everything.

It took nearly two weeks for the mock friendliness to turn genuine and nearly a month and a half for everyone (including Legend, though he’ll deny it even if he were six feet under) to have a bit of trust in you. It wasn’t like the bonds they had with each other nor the ones you had with your friends back home, but it was something and that something showed. That fact certainly helped you sleep a bit easier during the night.

So now, here you sit around a campfire with the Chain after yet another day of traveling. Despite sitting in a circle, everyone was still a little grouped up and remained chatting in that group. Hyrule, Wild, and Wind were all conversing with each other in semi-hushed tones which made you believe some level of tomfoolery was sure to happen in the coming days. Sky, Four, and Wars were simply chatting about random things. Legend and Twilight were off on patrolling duty at the moment which was a bit of a balm for you given just how… prickly the Vet was in regards towards you at times (you knew it was mostly show, but that didn’t stop it from being aggravating). All of this left Time and you sitting beside each other in silence as one surveyed the camp and its occupants with a well-trained eye and the other lightly zoned out.

Although semi-zoned out, you weren’t entirely oblivious to the world. Your eyes drifted around and loosely observed the scenery although it was regarded as little more than static to your brain. By chance, your eyes drifted downwards and caught eye of a trinket that often sat on the hip of Time- a mask. Not just any mask, though. You hadn’t played Majora’s Mask before but you saw snippets of it and knew what the Fierce Deity mask was. You noticed from day one that Time- rather foreign in your eyes given the design you were used to- partly had the mask’s markings on his face. You had many guesses as to why that was, but you didn’t ask any.

“No- you can’t try it on,” Time speaks up as he quickly notices your stare at the mask. It jolts you a little as you didn’t realize just how long you had been staring at the aforementioned trinket.

“Oh? I wasn’t going to ask to but… well, now I’m curious as to why you don’t want me to. Is it special to you? I’ve never seen anyone else touch it before,” you ask as you stare at the mask in partly feigned curiosity, avoiding Time’s stare. Faking ignorance had grown to be second nature by now.

“Because everyone else knows that it’s good to stay away from it lest you risk tragedy. It’s a magical mask but the power it holds is… potent. Rather, who it holds,” Time cryptically answers with a small grin. It brings a little grin to your face as well that the mask wasn’t too sore a subject for the Old Man, but it was best to tread the waters lightly.

“Who it holds? There’s… a person in there?” You ask.

“Not just a person- a god. It’s called the Fierce Deity Mask as it holds a god of war within it. Put on the mask, and you become something of a vessel for him to use. Naturally, doing so is dangerous- extremely so- so don’t expect to be seeing it in use any time soon,” Time answers with a lit of strictness at the end.

“Can I… at least touch it? Or hold it?” You push, curious about many things in relation to the mask. What did a magical mask feel like in your hands? Could you feel the power of Fierce Deity wanting to be released? Could you maybe even hear him? Would your heart begin to pump loudly, as if trying to sync with a war drum? Time can practically hear your unasked questions, it seems, as he detaches the mask from his belt and hands it to you.

It’s weighty in your hands. Not heavy, but weighty. Its texture is smooth and makes it feel a little bit more like fine pottery than wood. Despite that, you knew you wouldn’t be able to break it by accidentally or purposefully dropping it (could it ever be broken? What would happen if it was?). Despite the chill in the air, the mask was warm. Something that could easily be attributed to being nearly sandwiched between your’s and Time’s body, but you felt like that wasn’t the case. Aside from that, the mask was almost… underwhelming. “What? Expecting something grand to happen?” Time lets out a short and breathy chuckle at the puzzled expression that must be on your face at the moment. “Yeah… I guess so,” You mumble, still holding the mask and looking at it in the eyes- or rather eye sockets. Randomly, you hold the mask up and away from you as if it were someone face to face with you.

“Hello, Fierce Deity, I’m (Name). A… pleasure to meet you? At least, somewhat…”

A beat of silence. And then another. And then another. And th-

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! D-Did you seriously just introduce yourself to a mask?!”

Your face burned crimson at Wind’s howling laughter and remark. Many others shared his laughter, including Time himself. Naturally, you looked straight down at your lap and didn’t even resist having Time take the mask back. So caught up in your embarrassing action, you and everyone missed the slight vibration the mask gave off. The second Time put the mask back on his hip was the moment you decided you’d turn in for the night.

Of course, your luck was little and fickle so some of the boys decided to poke at you further come the next day. While you settled beside a stream to wash clothes, it didn’t take long before Hyrule hopped over with a little grin as he propped up the Fierce Deity mask beside you. He made a little comment about how you appeared lonely before practically running off. Unsure of whether to snap at Hyrule or almost pity the god within the mask, you simply chose to go about your chores. You had a gut feeling that a few of the Links were likely lingering close by, so you did your best to stay tight lipped beside the mask. Which was hard since chore time (especially when it allocated some space between you and the boys) was also welcomed alone time. More often than not did you talk to yourself. Safe to say that having such time and space intruded upon left you a little… pent up for the rest of the day.

When the next laundry day came by, the same stunt was pulled (by Wild this time) but you couldn’t keep your silence. Camp was located a little further from the stream than it was at the previous site, so you felt a little more secure.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled out as you began to wash the pile of clothes beside you. By now, you’ve long grown used to the awful smell of them and you were thankful that, despite having a sculpted nose, the mask didn’t have nostrils. After a few moments of silence, you continued. “I, uhm… I’m sorry for the way that they’re treating you. Perhaps seeing the way I interacted with you that night caused them to grow a little too comfortable around you. I just ask that you forgive or at least tolerate the behavior- it’s an outlet for a handful of them. I know you’ve been with Time for awhile, so I know that you know full well the stress and trauma these boys have. It may seem like little to you given your rank as a deity, but I’m sure you’ve grown to understand mortals a bit better after hanging off the hip of one for years.”

After that, it felt like a dam had broken. Anytime you were off doing your chores, the Fierce Deity mask was there beside you. To the Chain it was a recurring joke that turned into a slight routine (something Legend hated since having something so powerful be near you was always something he despised). To you, it was finally a chance to talk- to vent without being judged. Well, you’re sure that Fierce Deity was judging you but you couldn’t hear him. Honestly, there were parts of your life that you likely sooner shared with the mask than you did with anyone else. It’s not like he can spill your secrets, anyway.

You wondered what he must have thought of you. An annoyance? A break? An interesting or perhaps strange mortal? Or did he just not care at all? Was he curious about your ramblings that described your passions, your home, your world or was it merely buzzing in his ears? You didn’t know and likely never would. At least, so you thought.

And it all started with a simple, and seemingly logical, decision from Time.

“I’m sorry- what? You’re wanting the Outsider to have the mask with them? Time, what the fuck?! We’re your sword brothers and we’ve hardly been allowed to touch the damn thing but now it gets to hang off of that witch’s hip?! What happens if we need to use it? Or what happens if they use it? We’re all screwed!” Legend practically screams as Time tells the Chain of his decision. You want to stand tall and face Legend, but you knew that his comment wasn’t entirely based off of his prickly personality (despite what may come out of his mouth). No, all of the boys were likely fretting over you having the mask given what it did to its wearer. If it could take down even a Hero of Courage, then what could it do to you?

“Enough!” Time snorted as he stared down the pink haired man. “The mask is not some secret weapon, let alone a toy (Wild, Wind, and Hyrule flinch), to be used at your leisure. That’s something this ‘outsider’ realizes better than seemingly all of you. As such, I’m entrusting it into their care to make sure it’s not abused. It is only for the worst case scenarios, do I make myself clear?”

“But the past few monster hordes have gotten stronger! I understand that (Name) acts as a field medic to the best of their ability but they stay away from battle when they can. It’ll be inconvenient and risky to let it be away from us for multiple reasons. What if a battle goes south fast and we can’t get to it in time? What if something tries to steal it from them? What if they have no choice but to use it and potentially lets Fierce Deity go on a rampage? I can guarantee that it’d hurt them,” Wars argues with a much more put together and logical rebuttal than Legend. That still doesn’t save you from the ever present glare the Vet has aimed at you and the mask.

“I’ve thought of all of this but I still believe this for the best. Besides, the hordes feel stronger because we’ve been dealing with smaller and weaker hordes for over a month now. Dink has been trying to soften us up a little and I can see that it’s worked based on our combined performance in the last battle,” Time huffs and deepens his scowl. He gives the Chain a thorough stare down before speaking again. “Anyone else want to pipe up?”

The only thing that spoke for about the next ten seconds was the breeze. After that short but tense “talk” was over with, the Chain was back on the move. Safe to say you were distracted as you and the boys traveled, though not by the gazes you felt on your person and on the mask. Rather… it was due to the mask itself. During the argument, it had been on your waist the entire time. With everyone focusing on whoever was taking their turn arguing with Time, they were all blind to the way the mask was reacting. Due to your close proximity to the mask for some time now, you knew full well that Fierce Deity could hear and see what happened around him from his wooden prison. He couldn’t speak, but he could make the mask buzz. He did it seldom, but seldom was not the word you would use for moments ago. Given how a lot of the boys still regarded him as an object, it must have pissed him off. Or, maybe, he was also a little pissed at how his new carrier was being treated. It was likely the former but you at least hope you’ve rubbed off on Fierce just a little bit by now.

…

‘On… put the mask on…’

Okay, maybe you’ve rubbed off on him a little… too much.

The freaky occurrences began to happen nearly a week after you were appointed as Fierce Deity’s new carrier. You didn’t notice the whispers at first as they were quiet and usually spoken while the boys were speaking. You also didn’t notice how the mask would move just a little bit whenever you set it down. Naturally, you couldn’t ignore it for forever- not as the mask only grew more active in regards to your ignorance.

The calls from the mask were getting closer by the day. It’s whisper- his whisper, grew louder for every night that passed. His voice was low and rumbling like a distant thunder, like an approaching storm. You’d put the mask on the other side of your tent (much to the displeasure of whoever you were sharing the tent with at the time) but it’d still end up only a foot or two away from you when morning came. Your once rather passive regard for the mask and the deity trapped within it was becoming… strained as the days went by. The boys noticed it, to the point you wondered if Time planned to take back the mask, but they (aside from a seething Legend) never commented on it. It should have come to the surprise of no one that the rising tension would eventually snap.

“You did pretty good out there today, Wind. I didn’t expect you to take out those three lizafols so quickly,” Wild complimented the young lad as he joined the group around the campfire.

“Ha, naturally! With my rate of improvement, I may even surpass the Old Man one day!” Wind puffed up his chest and grinned. The sight of his youthful happiness and high esteem caused the other men to either chuckle or feel a touch of nostalgia.

“Careful- we’ve seen what praise like that does to one of us,” Legend tsks as he side eyes Wars. The knight rolls his eyes but doesn’t clap back for once.

“It’s well deserved praise, Legend. Wind is truly improving- there’s no harm in letting him know,” Hyrule claims. The man opens his mouth to add more but is stopped when Twilight springs up from his spot and stands stiff as a board. The aura surrounding the rancher is tense as he eyes the tent farthest from the campfire.

“Uh, Twilight? What’s wr-”

“(Name)?” Twilight called out as he took a few steps towards the tent you were currently sleeping in. Due to his heightened senses, he could hear muffled grunts and whines of pain. Could you be having a nightmare? No, if it was a nightmare why did he feel so… worried? Scared, even? Based on the tense men around the campfire, they were starting to feel that as well.

Twilight walks, almost stalks, towards the tent. The wolf within was howling and snarling in the back of his mind, that something bad was happening. An almost shaky hand grabbed the fabric of the tent and… he stalled. Why? Why was he stalling? Why did it feel like he shouldn’t open the tent when he knew that he should? That he has to? That his friend- their friend- was in trouble? Why-

“Leave, Hero of Twilight. This is a private moment and you are not welcome.”

Twilight nearly flung the tent into the field.

A thrashing body was pulled from the tent and pinned down to the ground. Wild reached for the mask stuck to your face and tried to pry it away from you but it wouldn’t budge. While you weren’t transforming into the Fierce Deity, that didn’t mean you weren't under his influence at the moment. His voice had come out of your mouth, after all.

“Dammit! (Name)!” Time bellowed, kneeling beside the scene with an equal mix of anger and worry. Worry because he knows- Hylia does he know what that mask can do and angry at himself. He should have taken the mask back the second it started to show signs of attachment. He should have never let you have it- never let you even touch it.

Suddenly, you went limp. Grunts stopped on the tip of your tongue as you let out a drawn out breath. As if it wasn’t just stuck to your face like glue, Wild yanked off the mask with ease. Aside from some redness and even blood on the outline of your face due to the struggle, your face was largely unharmed. In fact, it looked eerily… peaceful.

Your arms slowly closed in and you hugged yourself. In gentle motions that appeared strange to the Chain- as if it wasn’t really you moving your appendages- you rubbed your arms. Your face settles into a more so neutral expression as you eyes flutter open for just a moment to reveal almost entirely white eyes.

“Shhh… you’re alright now, I told you that it would only hurt for a moment. Shhh…,” Fierce Deity gently spoke out of your mouth before your eyes returned to normal. With a tiny groan, your head lolled to the side as you blacked out.

Safe to say that it was absolute chaos when you woke back up.

Strained voices were arguing somewhere nearby and it didn’t help soothe your forming headache. With wobbly arms, you tried to push yourself up but failed as strength seemingly refused to return to you.

“(Name)? Thank the goddesses you’re awake!” Four pipped up in what sounded like absolute relief. Such relief was short lived as you watched Four get up and run off. You tried to sit up again in your sleeping bag but the weakness in your body persisted. Why? Why were you so weak? You went to bed early, dammit!

A baritone chuckle rings in your ears.

“I apologize for that, dear one. Your lack of strength is due to my actions last night.”

The voice was a shock to your system. You frantically looked around for its origin but couldn’t find it. Your confused actions caused the voice to nearly coo.

“Be not afraid, dear one. I am here, with you. That is why you can hear me.”

Light flooded the tent as what seemed to be a multitude of Links trying to force their way in. Time, thanks to his bulk and armor, was the one who managed to force himself to your side. His grip on your face was almost harsh as he looked over your face with a scrutinizing eye. His hardened scowl made your heart drop into your stomach. Buried fears of the Chain turning on you started to surface as nearly everyone gave you heated glares.

“What did he do? What did Fierce Deity do?” Time questioned as he still held your face, not letting go.

Fierce Deity- of course, how could you forget? Your panic that night as you rolled over and into an awaiting mask. The fear as he grabbed onto your mind despite his gentle tone.

“The mask… I… I rolled over and then it was on my face,” You answer meekly, unsure of what words to use because Time looked like he was about to blow a fuse. Anxious and a little frightened by the Old Man, you rambled on. “I swear that I put it on the other side of the tent! I promise I would never put on the mask like that! I-I… I… I’m going to ask you to unhand their face, Hero of Time. Scaring them will not grant you answers.”

Time let go of your face like it would burn him. A few of the boys behind him instinctively reached for their swords but paused. Even with the blank, white eyes staring back at them, this was still their friend’s face.

“What have you done? Why have you possessed (Name)? How?!” Wars interrogated Fierce Deity as he stared back at him.

“I have not truly possessed them. I merely created a bridge between our minds. It will not let me control them like this for much longer. I can only do so because it is still… fresh,” Fierce Deity explains, a ghost of a smile present in his voice.

“Really now? I don’t believe that for a second! Why else would you create this mental bridge if not to have them as a vessel?” Wild piped up as he tried to get close to his friend’s body. He failed to do so as Time practically shielded you from him.

“Personal reasons. I needn’t explain them to you, but I will assure you that I will not harm them. No, I would never force these innocent hands to slaughter. Not unless they were without choice,” Fierce Deity claims. As he speaks, he rubs your hands together as if enthralled with how gentle they felt compared to the calloused and aching hands he was used to guiding.

“And what, in your mind, is ‘without choice’?” Time pressed, grabbing your hands with a scowl.

“Conflict follows this group like a pack of starving wolves. There have been many times where death nearly sunk its teeth into their neck. Times I wish they would have donned the mask so that I could protect them and get them to safety. Unfortunately, they still believed in the half-truths you all told them were the full truth,” Fierce Deity rumbles as he stares down at Times grip with a less than pleased expression.

“I am not comfortable with what you’ve done to our friend. I don’t know if any of us may grow used to or comfortable with this, but… we also have no way to remove you from them. That does not mean we will not look or try. Don’t grow comfortable with this… this bond. It. Will. Not. Last,” Time threatens as he doesn’t bother to hide his disgust or displeasure. With a motion, he orders everyone else to leave. The Chain leaves the tent one by one, but not before speaking their mind. Once alone together again, Fierce Deity lets his hold slip. One or more of the heroes would come back, with more questions, and they would do so soon. So he would enjoy this little break while he had it.

“They are gone for now, dear one. No doubt they will return shortly, so let us enjoy this piece of quiet while we can.”

You lay on your side, feeling dizzy from Fierce Deity suddenly grabbing the reigns of your mind. Although he backed off once the Chain left the tent, his presence within was close. It was almost as if he was laying behind you, wanting to wrap his arms around you. Wanting to hold you close and only stopped by his lack of physical form.

“I am glad you do not have a heightened sense of smell. Their worry, rage, and envy- oh their envy- would have burned your nose. Ah, but… let us dwell on that no longer.”

Your hand was puppeteered to reach down to your side. Your were made to unclasp the mask from your belt and bring it up close to your face. Rather than putting it on, Fierce Deity touched his “face” against yours. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and almost mouth to mouth.

“Mmm… so soft, as always. If I had need for sleep as you do, then I would not rest unless this is the sight that’s before me. And even then, I may be too enchanted to close my eyes.”

Phantom hands rubbed at your arms, your back, and then your cheek. They weren’t real, but with Fierce’s control of your imagination, they were. And you prayed that is was his influence, and not your own heart, that found it comforting and warm. You wanted to push back and take control but, due to the “fresh” nature of your bond, you would likely be at the mercy of the god for days.

“Rest, dear one. Rest your mind and body, you must still recover from our bonding last night.”

Those phantom hands circled around you and you feel as though you’re caged in an embrace.

“I will deal with the heroes should they come to disturb you. Know that I will not let them part us- not unless they’re looking to stir my rage.”

A kiss. It wasn’t real- it wasn’t, but the rough lips upon your forehead tempted your heart to will that they were.

“And I promise that one day, we will not have to rely on this spiritual bond. No, I will make up for these ethereal affections tenfold when I find out how to return to the material plane. No matter how long it takes. Not that we must worry about that, after all. Our time together… will be eternal.”

---

The next few days were perhaps the most tense you’ve ever experienced. Fierce Deity was a constant presence in your head, even as the bond between the two of you settled. He wasn’t chatty, but just rather curious and inquisitive. When he wasn’t asking questions about you, he was observing. He seemed to derive an almost twisted form of happiness whenever he saw how on edge everyone was around you now . He assured it was out of jealousy of him, not fear or hatred towards you. Were it actually out of new found ill-will… no, you weren’t going to imagine what the god would have in store for them.

True to his word, his hold over your mind lessened the more the bond settled in. No longer would you feel phantom hands wrapping around your own or resting on your shoulder. No longer would it feel like a large body was laying behind your own every night you fell asleep. No longer would it be his voice on your tongue to shoo away the boys should they do wrong in the war god’s eyes. No longer did it feel like he was breathing down your neck every waking moment.

In an attempt to hinder the god’s mysterious motives, you were quickly relieved of the mask he was bound to. It was once again on Time’s hip- now covered and tied up in cloth. Honestly, you were surprised it wasn’t buried into the storage of Wild’s Sheika Slate to create even more distance. Even with what happened, it seemed that Time didn’t have it in him to simply discard the mask. Perhaps he hoped to keep the deity in check, like he had done before you accidentally stirred the entity into action.

And it would seem that that is exactly what Fierce planned on him doing.

It was supposed to be a quiet night. The area was secure, dinner was cooking in the pot, and everyone but Time was idling around the fire. Wind chatted with you about every and anything that came to mind which pushed your focus onto the young man. With your distance from the mask and not thinking about Fierce, you felt nothing from the bond. You felt calm for the first time in awhile and everyone seemed to feel the same.

“Any idea when the Old Man is gonna be back?” Wars asks aloud, looking for nearly anyone to answer him.

“Soon. Dinner’s almost done and he’s not one to miss it. At least when I’m cooking,” Wild hums. It was a simple answer to a simple question, so no one said anything else. Still, it unnerved you. Time sought to set an example, so potentially being late to dinner was unlike him. Curious, you probed on the bond connecting you to Fierce. Even if he’d huff at you checking up on another man before him, you knew you’d get an answer. You always got an answer.

…

“I’ll look for him,” You state as you get up and walk off in the direction of where you last saw Time. Your sudden decision startled the boys and your nervous, almost haunted, expression did nothing to soothe them.

“Then I’m going with you. I don’t want you to getting close to him,” Twilight announces as he catches up to you. His tone left you with no room for an argument but you weren’t going to.

Not when Fierce was being eerily quiet.

You and Twilight took careful steps through the forest as he tried to retrace Time’s path. You both would stop and listen to the ambient sounds of the forest whenever something sounded off. The constant stopping and going only ramped up your nerves further as it kept punctuating Fierce’s refusal to communicate.

“I’m sure we’ll get an explanation when we find him. If you ask me, he might just be getting some alone time. He always does seem to have a lot on his mind,” Twilight piped up as he led you through the woods. The man offered a small smile but the strain on his face wasn’t lost on you. “Any word from him?”

“No. Nothing. It’s like… like there’s no bond at all,” You reply. “Ever since the incident, it’s never been like that. If anything, Fierce always made an effort to feel ‘present’.”

“Maybe… he’s also taking a break?” Twilight suggested, trying to be the optimistic. You shoot him a look and that optimism is quick to falter. Twilight doesn’t give up and faces you with an uneasy smile. He gently places his hands on your shoulders and rubs them a little. You feel that it comforts him more than you. “C’mon, think about it. You’ve said that he’s not as violent as we believe him to be, so m-”

“Remove your hands from them, Hero of Twilight.”

The air is squeezed from your lungs as Twilight suddenly pulls you into a shielding embrace. His fur pelt partly blocks your vision, but you can make out an imposing silhouette between the trees. How did the both of you not notice him?

Fierce Deity was striking. He has to at least be seven feet tall and he was clad in armor similar to Time’s but it was a steely silver, not gold. The armor was lined with white fur with an abundance of it on his collar. Long, flowing locks of white swayed in the night time breeze. Fierce’s silver-gray eyes were framed by strong and downturned brows. His stare was… intense, to say the least. But your eyes weren’t on his. No, you were focused on finding out why there were splatters of blood on him.

“What did you do?!” Twilight growled. “Where’s Time? What did you do to him?!”

“I won’t ask again, Hero of Twilight. Release them,” Fierce commanded as he began to walk towards the both of you. Twilight only seemed to tighten his hold in response. This was going to end up being ugly unless you did something.

“Stop!” You exclaim as you try and fail to wrestle yourself out of Twilight’s hold. Both men head your order but the tense atmosphere doesn’t dissipate. You shoot Twilight a glare but the hero returns it as he shakes his head. True to his word from earlier, he wasn’t about to let you get close to the god of war.

A strangle cough breaks the silence as someone stumbles through the brush. Thanks to the golden armor, you knew exactly who it was.

“Oh god, Time!” You exclaim as the older man leans against a tree for support. His face is banged up and actively dripping blood. His armor was smeared with the red liquid as if he had been trying to wipe off the blood over and over again. Blood bubbled up from Time’s lips as he tried to gurgle out words. The pathetic sight was enough to shock Twilight into action as he let go of you and zipped towards the injured man.

“Ancestor! What happened?! What did he do to you?” Twilight questions as he supports the bloodied man. More gurgles and grunts leave the man’s mouth as he tries to answer the younger man’s questions. It’s clear to all present that Time is in no shape to answer questions despite the desperate need for it.

“Take him back to camp and have him healed up,” You order. The order earns you a stern shake of the head from both Twilight and Time, but you refused to budge. “Now, Twilight! I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Go take care of him,” Fierce chimes in as he looks back to the two men. “No harm shall befall them. You have my word.”

With a tough choice to make, you can see the exact moment when a hero’s instinct takes over Twilight. He lifts up Time and barrels through the forest back to the camp. In the blink of any eye, you’re suddenly left alone with the very person who had to have harmed Time. You’re so out of your league in the current situation that you probably couldn’t even see the playing field on the horizon, but you weren’t about to back down.

“My dear-”

“What did you do to him?” You confront as you stand up as tall as you can. It’s nothing compared to the towering deity, but you weren’t about to let that stop you. Fierce seems amused by your actions. He leisurely walks towards you with his hands by his sides and a small smile on his face.

“Nothing too rash, my dear. Just a broken nose and some scraps to the face. Head wounds tend to bleed quite a lot, as you know,” Fierce answers vaguely.

“Why did you hurt him?” You continue to question as you start to back up. You wanted to keep distance between the both of you in case you had to turn heel and run. Not that’d you’d get very far, but you could only hope.

“I didn’t mean to hit him hard. He came at me and I punched him, simple as that,” Fierce assured as he continued his approach. “Surely, my dear, you believe me? You know I would not hurt another without reason.”

“The mask- how did you escape the mask?” You press as you do your best to keep your distance.

“That wooden prison was old and ready to crack. I never saught to free myself from its binds as there was little in this world that tempted me forward. Well, little until you came around. Ah, I still recall how gently you held me in your hands that night…” Fierce hummed as he closed in. It didn’t take long for him to corner you against a tree. Frozen against the trunk, you could no longer keep space between the two of you. Fierce leaned down and grabbed your hands with his own. He pressed them against his face and he stares straight into your eyes.

“Hello, (Name), I’m the one they call the Fierce Deity. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Words evaded you, as did action. You didn’t pull away nor did you do anything else than having allowed Fierce guide your actions. The god chuckles at your frozen deer response as he moves his hands under your arms and lifts you up. You cringe as he holds you close and blood seeps into your clothes and the smell of iron assaults your nose. Fierce nuzzles against your cheek and buries his strong nose into your shoulder. In your shock, you can’t tell if he kisses your shoulder or if it’s just your imagination.

“YOU BASTARD!”

A growl reverberates through you as Fierce grits his teeth. His embrace tightens as he turns to face a small group of men. A near foaming at the mouth Legend leads the party of enraged me. Upon seeing you in the grasp of the deity, the rabid man refrains from attacking but it’s clear he’s waiting for his opening. A similarly enraged Sky, Four, and Wars follow behind him and a snarling Wolfie is quick to catch up with the group.

“Quell your tongue, Veteran. They’re already stressed enough,” Fierce huffs as he rubs a hand up and down your back.

“Then let them go! Can’t you see that you’re scaring them even further?” Sky argues as he adjusts his grip on the Master Sword. Unlike Legend, he’s not still on his feet as he begins to move in an attempt to flank Fierce. Wars and Wolfie catch onto his plan while Four stays steady beside Legend.

“They are shocked, Hero of the Sky. Their senses are overwhelmed at the moment from tonights events,” Fierce dismisses the claim. He takes his eyes of the men and looks at you. His voice his low and gentle when he addresses you. “Correct, my dear? You know I’d never want to harm or scare you.”

You shrink away from Fierce and refuse to look him in the eye. The actions draw out a sigh from the god but he doesn’t force a response out of you. Instead, you feel yourself sway with his body as he begins to move. There are shouts and orders from the other men to stay still but Fierce acts as if they were little more than the surrounding scenery.

“Let’s get you back to camp. You must be hungry after all of this excitement. Can you hold a spoon? I’ll feed you if you can’t,” Fierce murmurs to you as he walks. You nod in response and the god sighs again. “Come now, my dear, what has happened to that beautiful voice of yours? Do not tell me you’re so mad at me that you’d cut me off from such sweet melodies?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Fierce slows to a stop. You can practically feel the puzzled expression radiating off of his face.

“My dear? What are you talking about?”

“Why are you calling me ‘my dear’?” You repeat as you pull away from Fierce’s shoulder. You can see his face scrunch up at your remark. You also see the men who confronted him following close behind.

“Because you are dear to me, (Name). You treated me fairly and sweetly, like I was a man- not a mask. You’ve told me more than what you’ve told anyone else. You always seemed happy to be near me for the longest time. Even after my brash actions that night, you still didn’t entirely recess into fear,” Fierce answers with a strong tone. “You may not realize it, but that is very important to me. You are very important to me and by the Golden Three do I intend on making that clear.”

Fierce resumes his large gait back to the camp. When he arrives, the reception is chilly. No one moves for their weapons but nor does anyone stay far away from them. Finally, Fierce sets you down onto the ground. You slump down to the soil below you as you take in deep breaths, unaware of how shallow your breathing had been before.

“Get a bowl of food ready- and don’t be skimpy,” Fierce orders as he stares down Wild. Wild grumbles something you can’t make out but he portions out a bowl for you. Fierce takes the portion from the cook before he can even leave the pot to give it to you. He settles himself by your side before shifting you into his lap. A spoon is brought up to your lips before you can argue. At the very least, Wild’s cooking never disappoints.

“Getting comfortable?” A rough voice breaks through the ambience of the night. A now healed but still beaten up Time stares down Fierce without a shred of fear. You immediately notice that he has both eyes open, and they’re both normal. Not to mention the fact that his face was now free from markings.

“Very,” Fierce curtly replies. He doesn’t bother to face Time as he’s focused on feeding you. The deity coos at you as your mouth is stuffed with food and your cheeks puff up as a result. The actions from the towering entity is… strange and off-putting to all present. The boys are stuck between glaring at the deity or cringing at his out of character actions. Fierce couldn't care less.

The evening passed by without much more incident. Everyone was jumpy and gave you and Fierce space despite the expressed distaste towards the new addition. There would be no knight in shining armor for you tonight, so you only hoped that Fierce would keep his word on treating you kindly.

Based on how he clung to you when it was time to go to bed, he seemed only further convinced he needed to assure you of that promise. He had shed his armor so you didn’t have to have metal pressing into you. He had also wrapped you up into a blanket burrito (something he made clear he learned from you and your ramblings) to limit the amount of skin on skin contact between you. He wasn’t blind to his intensity, so he was doing his best to restrain himself. You could only hope he’d keep up the will to do- for everyone’s sake.

“Sleep tight and sweet dreams, my dear,” Fierce whispered as he fiddled with the blanket covering you and stray strands of your hair. “I will be by your side the entire night, should you need me.”

“Okay…” You mumbled out as you wanted to do nothing more than hide away into your blanket. You closed your eyes but no amount of counting sheep would make falling asleep easy. Not with arms caging you to a man ever hungry for even your attention. Ever hungry for even a sliver of affection. By Hylia, what have you gotten yourself into.

“I love you, my dear,” Fierce mumbles as he believes you’re on the brink of falling asleep. “And remember… my love for your is eternal.”

And by the Goddesses, how do you get yourself out?

A wide and fanged smile cracks against the skin of your neck. A dark and hopefully playful chuckle leaves the god of war’s lips.

“You don’t.”

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #lu fierce deity #yandere lu fierce deity #linked universe x reader #yandere lu #Yandere lu x reader

[itsclydebitches]

The narrative H/C potential of switching Cazador and Orin’s kidnappings is just delicious to me. Instead of Astarion’s siblings waking him up and giving the party the chance to defend him, the player arrives back at camp (or finishes a long rest if Astarion is currently in your party) to discover that he’s just gone. No note, no sign of a struggle, nothing. Insert any hand wave-y means of abducting Astarion quietly here. The point is that this would wreck him.

Not just because he’s now back in the clutches of Cazador (though that’s obvious), but because you’re not coming for him. See, having Orin as your kidnapper is actually one of the more reassuring options, despite her murder-happy disposition. Even if she nabs a struggling character like Gale who might believe they’re unworthy of rescue for any number of reasons, Orin is one of the few baddies you simply have to engage with. Significantly, knowledge of that necessity is baked into the actual story-world. We see fighting her as a gameplay mechanic—defeat three mini bosses to reach the final boss—but that structure still exists as a Save The World quest for your party. No stone, no victory. No Orin, no stone. Ergo, they’re fighting Orin. So whoever is kidnapped knows that the party will show up eventually, even if it’s not for them. That’s it’s own wonderful, angsty assumption—“You came because it was the right thing to do, not because you care about me. My rescue was always a byproduct of saving the people who truly deserve it”—but at least there’s still reassurance in knowing you’ll see them again. All the kidnapped member has to do is not piss off Orin in the meantime and hope the party doesn’t die along the way. Not stellar odds, admittedly, but are they really any worse than what they’ve been dealing with all along?

Getting kidnapped by Cazador on the other hand... oh boy. He’s a missable boss, both mechanically and narratively. Who’s worried about him when there’s a fucking Netherbrain threatening all of Faerûn? Sure, sure, your Tav might have spent their journey helping every idiot with suitably convincing puppy-dog eyes, but Astarion is very much not a refugee tiefling/snake-threatened child/shadow-cursed hero/etc. He’s a chaotic, caustic bitch whose trauma is expressed more through biting fury than soft bouts of crying. Not only is he (in his own mind) not the sort of person people go out of their way to save, but would you even know where to begin? Depending on your approval rating you might still be iffy about Astarion’s past, as well as this upcoming ritual. Has Tav met any of the siblings yet? Do they know that Cazador’s Ascension would pose a threat to all of Baldur’s Gate? Do they have any means of finding the entrance to his palace without a former resident in the party (or convenient map marker)? Now, toss in the fact that, depending on how many long rests you’ve done, the party has only been traveling together for a matter of days/weeks. They know one another deeply (yay trauma bonding) but once separated that timeframe feels pretty insignificant, particularly to someone who has existed for over 200 years. Even if you’re romancing Astarion and he has more reason to believe that this short period of time was emotionally meaningful, he’s still admitted to manipulating you, to molding your emotions to best ensure his protection... but protection never extended to this.

Besides, Astarion has literally been here before. No heroes rescued him across two centuries of enslavement. Why would they rescue him now?

Except, it’s far worse this time around, isn’t it? Cazador isn’t merely his abuser, he’s now set to become an all-powerful vampire whose hold will truly be unbreakable. Astarion isn’t merely a slave to one individual, he’s now got a ticking time bomb in the form of a parasite set to enslave him to another. (And isn’t that something to chew on: him cursing the fact that the artifact’s protection still extends to him. At least as a Mind Flayer he wouldn’t feel anymore, would have a chance to fight back.) This time around Astarion isn’t just another beloved “child” of Cazador’s, he’s uniquely gifted in his ability to walk in the sun and resist commands. The hells only know what Cazador will make him do with that newfound power if he survives the ritual— or how Cazador will ensure Astarion’s continued “loyalty” while he does it. Worst of all though... now Astarion has had a chance to see what life could be like. Freedom. Agency. People who love him despite all the reasons they shouldn’t. Whoever said, “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” was a fucking fool. It’s so much worse to go backwards, to have lost not merely the life you dreamed of, but also the ability to pretend you never needed it in the first place.

Imagine that Astarion. Picture how broken he would be.

Now imagine the party kicking down Cazador’s door. The look on Astarion’s face when he realizes that despite the danger, the practical hurtles, the bigger stakes at play, the fact that it’s him... they came anyway.

#BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion

[lulublack90]

Prompt 19 - Angel/Demon AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 19, word count 682

After the fall of Eden and the opening of Pandora’s box, when the World began to crumble, an Angel was created for each Demon. It was their job to restore the balance of any ill-doing their Demon committed and try to quell any rebellion of the Demon realm. 

Sirius had travelled the world and back again, over the aeons, following his Demon and the destruction left behind in his wake. It irked him that his Demon, unlike most of the others, seemed to be particularly creative in his wrongdoings. He’d set off a volcano in Pompeii because a street vendor had gotten in his way. He wiped Atlantis off the map without a trace it had ever existed because the king had refused him hospitality. The fall of Rome. The Titanic, World War 1 and World War 2, for that matter. 

Modern government had been a rather nasty one, putting imbeciles in charge of entire nations of humans and watching the utter carnage that followed. 

After that pièce de résistance, the Demon had calmed down. The humans were destroying themselves faster than he could provoke them, so he’d basically retired from his demonic ways and spent his time revelling in the world going to pot. 

Sirius tracked him down to a little village up in Scotland and, for the next few decades, tried to convince the Demon to give being good a go. 

“Come on, Remus, why won’t you even try? You never know you might like it.” Sirius had said as they sipped tea in Remus’s library. “You can’t be all bad. There must be some good in you, at least. I mean, look at all these books,” He waved his hands at the floor-to-ceiling shelves that covered every wall. “You have hundreds of them. You must have absorbed some good from them.” Remus slurped his tea from his cup, making Sirius wince. He placed the teacup down on his saucer and leaned all the way back in his chair. Grasping the armrests with his hands, he smiled genteelly at the Angel. 

“Why don’t you open one and find out?” Remus challenged, his voice dripping with honey. Sirius gingerly reached out and selected a book at random. He let it fall open in his hands and read a few sentences before he snapped it shut, horror colouring his face. 

“It’s smut!” He grabbed another and another down off the shelves. Tossing each aside after he’d read a few words. “They’re all smut!” He exclaimed, still going. “More smut!” He stood back from the shelves and spun on the spot, looking with new eyes on the rows and rows of books. “It’s all smut!” He gasped. Remus snorted, and Sirius turned to face him. 

“Come on, Sirius, try it. I bet you’ll like it.” Remus purred. And for the first time in millennia, the Angel was tempted by the Demon. 

His feet moved him forward of their own accord. He watched as his hand raised and touched the spine of one of the books. His fingers wrapped around it, and he began to remove it from the shelf, but Remus jumped up and yanked him away. 

“No, no. Not that one. Your eyes will melt in their sockets if you read that one. Er, try this.” The Demon reached up, revealing a strip of tanned skin between his knitted jumper and black trousers. Sirius swallowed. What was happening to him? Remus placed a thin paperback book in Sirius’s hand, and they returned to their seats. 

Sirius flipped the book open and began to read. A strange, tingly feeling in his abdomen startled him when he read a description of a man walking across a beach. It almost felt as though butterflies were happily flapping inside his stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant. Sirius could feel that this was the start of something different. He didn’t know what yet, but he was sure it wouldn’t be long before he found out. 

The Demon watched him closely as Sirius devoured the pages, a half smile tugging at his lips as he poured another cup of tea.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar au #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #omg remus #angel sirius #demon remus #dont mess with demon remus #all the books are smut! #angel/demon au

[thedarkdisgrace]

The thread from twitter I did about my interpretations on Verlaine, rereading this some parts might sounds a little redundant but i think it gets the point across.

People have a lot of opinions on Verlaine but I think this one line in particular goes hard & does alot to explain his view of humanity as well as the conversation a the end of SB.

“Sometimes creating is far more sinister than killing.”

I think Verlaine views his creation as an ‘act of humanity’. But to normal people, an act of humanity means kindness, right? Showing compassion or empathy. But from Verlaine’s POV it is the *opposite* of that. Humanity is not kind nor compassionate. It’s dark, twisted, & selfish.

Humanity to Verlaine is *only* the darkest and worst parts of human nature because that’s all he ever knew. He was created with the sole purpose of being controlled & used to kill & destroy. That was his entire world until Rimbaud rescued him & gave him some control for the first time.

Verlaine despises how he was created, that he was created in the first place. In his mind, humans used their capacity to create to make something that only serves to destroy & also, cruelly, allowed that creation to suffer all alone. They let him suffer and never treated him as a human, just a tool. A weapon. So he came to resent humans & humanity itself.

To Verlaine, humanity represents everything sinister in the world. Not any of the good that, say, Chuuya sees. Rimbaud was an exception to this, however, & I believe it’s why Verlaine pushed Rimbaud away. Because his existence & treatment of Verlaine was challenging this world view. Then when Rimbaud sides against him when he wanted to take Chuuya to safety, that was the confirmation Verlaine needed that Rimbaud was just like the rest. Even if Verlaine knew deep down that wasn’t really true.

Humanity disgusts him because of the way he was created & his lack of real purpose. He couldn’t find a reason he *should* exist, given that the original purpose of his creation was sinister. Because of that I think he believes no good can come from humanity so he thinks of them as monsters.

It’s why he believes creating is more sinister than killing. Humanity created him out of selfishness & with no compassion what so ever. He resents his very existence & his loneliness. He believes someone would have to be sinister to create Verlaine as he is, completely alone, no real purpose, only to be used by others.

So he thinks of the people who made him (& by extension Chuuya) as the worst monsters, more monstrous than he could ever be. It’s this dark view of humanity that I believe leads to Verlaine to thinking of killing as a thrill to him & also a tool.

Nothing about humanity is salvageable to him, at least not until the end of SB. In his own words he’s “the soul of a man who couldn’t trust the world or its people like you do.” As he says to Chuuya at the end of the book when he comes to realize, through Chuuya, his view may be wrong/incomplete.

Verlaine was incapable of trusting that humans could be more, that they were more than their darkest parts. He wasn’t able to trust that darkness was only a singular part of humanity & that the good wasn’t only a mask they would hide their darkness with. Though some do hide behind masks of kindness, it’s not all of humanity. Genuine people do exist. Caring people do exist.

But to Verlaine, killing humans isn’t a monstrous act. It’s almost an act of mercy or even a punishment. But Verlaine is also just desperately lonely because of his loathing of humanity. How he separates himself from it. That’s why when he learns of Chuuya, someone that existed that he felt might share his pain & might actually understand his POV, all he wants to do is protect him. To bring him to his side so he doesn’t have to be so lonely anymore & he can still serve humanity the “justice” for lack of a better word he thinks they deserve through killing.

He wanted to protect Chuuya from humanity itself because to him, humanity is the villain. He believed everyone around Chuuya was only using him because to him that’s all humans do. Aside Rimbaud, who he ended up fighting, he never had anyone to show him other things humanity has to offer

To him all humans do is use & abused & are selfish & twisted. That’s why Verlaine doesn’t even think twice about killing the flags, for example. Surely they were just using Chuuya like everyone else. Humans are the monsters, not him & Chuuya, despite the purposes of their creation.

Now, in the end, Chuuya & Verlaine come to understand more of each others POVs. That’s why Verlaine taught Chuuya how to defeat him. Because even while Verlaine still doesn’t quite believe humanity has value, he sees Chuuya’s conviction in his belief that humanity *is*valuable. People can be worth it.

Chuuya knows humanity is more complex than Verlaine believes & despite the darkness that exists there *is* light too. Humans are more than their worst sides. Chuuya has always believed people were worth living for, that they were worth suffering for.

But he also knows he could have easily gone down the dark path Verlaine did. As Chuuya says “You rolled the dice and lost. It was a stroke of bad luck, and you rolled a one. But the pips came out different when I rolled. I was blessed with wonderful friends. That’s all.”

Verlaine, in the end, I believe, *wants* to believe in what Chuuya believes about the world. As Chuuya says to him:

“Besides, what you have isn’t just hatred. You don’t actually despise the world. That’s why you showed me that memory. You taught me how to defeat Guivre.”

Chuuya is his opposite essentially. Chuuya, even while suffering at the hand of the coldness and cruelty that humanity is capable of, can still see the good and light of human nature. Chuuya has always known there is more to humanity than cruelty & Verlaine never was able to see that before.

Chuuya contributes this essentially to always having friends, people he cared about around him. But Chuuya does *understand* why Verlaine is the way he is. Why Verlaine thinks the way he does & Chuuya, being who he is, essentially forgives him in the end. It’s why he’s able to have that “final” conversation with him.

Humanity, what it *means* to be human, is really the entire theme of Storm Bringer & everyone showcases us a different perspective of this. Chuuya, Adam & Verlaine (Dazai somewhat as well) as show us different aspects of humanity and ones struggles with it. Verlaine’s view is dark. It showcases the impact a *lack* of humanity being shown to others can have on us.

I am also not saying anything Verlaine did was alright or justifying what he did because of his broken view on life. What he tried to do by killing everyone Chuuya knew was wrong. But he *does care* about Chuuya. But he couldn’t express that in any healthy way. He didn’t know how, didn’t know it was wrong in the first place.

Anyway, this is just my interpretation of Verlaine as a character and everyone can have their own interpretations! These are just my thoughts. I hope they made sense, I’m not super sure I was able to articulate everything well. I think I I kinda rambled but oh well.

#bsd spoilers #bsd analysis #bsd stormbringer #paul verlaine #chuuya #bsd verlaine #chuuya nakahara #dazai #bsd #soukoku

[fitsofdespair]

i have hesitated to say anything before now. in part because i removed myself from fandom discourse and really from actively discussing iwtv a year ago. i consider it all a lose-lose situation.

but also because i’m generally of the opinion that black fans don’t need people to be their white saviors, least of all me. black people have never been saved by white people. they were never just given anything when it comes to strides in equality, they fought for it and still fight for it, against constant violent pushback every step of the way. only instead of the good ole’ days when racists just called those fighting for equality uppity, they’re now “bullies” for daring to call you out on your shit after the repeated condescension and the resulting harassment you’ve exhibited towards them.

in this day and age the word bully has zero meaning anymore. i mean come on, melania trump calls people mean about her husband bullies. elon musk thinks he’s being bullied by twitter users, though he clearly holds all the power and is absolutely the problem. its become a meaningless word that goliaths use to call davids because they won’t use the real word they actually want to say. some of these popular blogs are not being bullied, they’re being held accountable for their own actions.

it’s pretty disgusting the number of you who decided to identify strongly with these users that not only fail to question their own racial biases but have gone so far as to suggest black people don’t face racism anymore. this is so fucked. tbh it can be argued in many ways white people, especially in the deep south where i’m from, are inherently raised steeped in racism, even if its not direct. just because your family aren’t ostensibly racist doesn’t mean they didn’t bake their own little prejudices into your upbringing and being raised in your environment didn’t encourage them. even if you don’t see yourself as racist, you have to unlearn all this shit, even if it never once occurred to you that you are part of it. just cause you believe in equality and don’t hate people for their color or cultural background does not make you free of perpetuating microaggressions against them. this applies to fans across the world of course. (like for you white euro iwtv fans, you may say you have no problem with black people but i’ve heard some wild things some of yall have to say about the turks.)

i understand that probably half or more of you are not usamericans. but no matter what environment you live in, no matter where you were raised, there is no excuse for your behavior. just because YOU don’t see racism in your day to day life or are in the more likely situation, too blindly comfortable in your place in society to notice it right in front of your face, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist as a constant presence in other parts of the world or isn’t deeply ensconced in online rhetoric.

so for you white iwtv fans who can’t be fucked to mention let alone defend people you, in many cases once called friend, against the absolute horseshit your current comrades are spewing wrapped up in their nice safe cocoons of victimhood, i hope you do some serious soul searching to figure out if this is who you are, a person too cowardly to call out a friend because it might cost you their friendship. a person quick to condemn others on hearsay because you couldn’t be fucked to wonder am i on the right side of this? and if you do manage to get wise and change your mind, remember its not unforgivable to say, you know what? i was wrong. i wrote in an old post that the hallmark of being a functional adult is changing your views accordingly when you learn new information or even just ruminate on what you know (i myself was a little bitch about ep 5 when it first dropped until i had to sit down and ask myself why i was actually feeling some kind of way about it). dying on a hill is not all its cracked up to be. being told you’re wrong is not always a personal attack and its often an opportunity for improvement if you can be bothered to genuinely hear other people out. an alarming number from all walks of life never figure that out. for my part, i am still learning and hope i never stop learning.

while that sentiments all nice and gooey (i mean them, but i understand its still sacharine to put out there), i am still guilty for not having directly written anything about this until now. and thats on me and i earned any flack i get for that. again, i am more of the mindset that black people don’t need white spokespeople, but that doesn’t mean they'll mind allies. and as a sidebar, going out of your way to say you are rising “above the noise” or “ignoring the drama” is absolutely your right, but it does not make you superior. it just makes you complacent with the status quo. i mean as long as you get to squee!! about anything and everything who cares about other people, right?

#and to be clear since i think some people may be a bit confused: i’m admonishing user nalyra-dreaming and their followers #some people who reblogged seem to not understand that #iwtv #interview with the vampire #alex.txt

[justpoliteconversations]

Graveyard Waltz [Deity!Reader + Fallen!Time]

One deity's failure is another's champion, or something like that.

Reveling in the new smell of uncommon trash.

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Hylia's destined hero was small, even by the standards of his species. His hands were smooth with youth and a life of peace among the Kokiri, face still plush with baby fat, shoulders thin below a delicate neck.

Red. All the softness of childhood was bathed in the red of his lifeblood, still warm against his pale skin. His eyes open wide and frozen in childish horror, the realization of death's inevitability settled upon his features like the masks he so loves.

Hylia has always been cold to her champions, but never had she been so callous. To send a child so young is not new to her, but to cast him aside so readily. Your own divine sensibilities bristled, displeased at the thought.

It was your nature. To love and cherish that which has been discarded. You are the Deity of Passing after all, the one to comfort those who have been torn from the world of the living. Be them saint, child or sinner, you accept them all.

The power of Hylia's favor has long gone stale on this one's young body, her grace long left him even before Death had laid its hands upon him.

In the distance, 6 sages cast their power over the entity known as Ganon (an unnatural creature, far removed from the cycle of death and passing), sealing him away in the Sacred Realm. It is sacrilegious, to cast such a creature into the Goddess' cradle. But what else can they do.

A dead hero, an unawoken princess, an abandoned world. What else can mortals do against the might of a being whom even the Goddess herself had failed to strike down.

You pay the happenings of the living world no mind, for that is not your duty. It lies instead in this fallen hero, this child of the forest, still clinging to his mortal body with childish determination. Still so desperate to live, despite the fear festering within his heart.

The strength of mortal spirits. How you adore the bright spark of firelight in the vast stretch of eternity, fluttering like ambers in the night.

"Little one." You call to him, sweetly, as you have always called to the ones taken too young. "You need not fear, for pain will not find you here. You are safe."

"No!" A young voice raises in defiance, a single blue eye peeking out from within the still body bathed in the cooling red of blood. It is a small spirit, barely big enough to fill the body it once resided in. Nothing like his predecessors, who possessed souls so strong and unyielding you'd had to call upon your divine might to take them across the dead realms.

The sight of him, so small but possessing a spirit so potent, was enough to pull at the reigns of your instincts. The will to take this young soul as your own, to call upon your right to choose a champion.

"Link, child of the forest. It is your time to pass on from this plain of existence. I will guide you, and across the realms of the dead, you will find peace." You coaxed, maintaining careful distance from the young, belligerent soul.

The small soul glares at you, still hiding from your gentle, patient gaze. You are tempted to step closer, to take the lost being in your arms and comfort him, but you hold back. Faded though it may be, the remnants of Hylia's power still lingers on the boy, ready to lash out at the insult.

She has ever been a jealous goddess. That she would withdraw her favor from her own chosen, before even the inevitability of death, is incomprehensible to you.

She had clung to the Hero of Skies for years after he'd passed, until Death itself had come to reap him from her arms. She'd latched with divine fiery to the Hero of Man and Minish with steadfast defiance, until the influence of Death's touch had severed the bond between them.

Yet she would leave this one to perish, deprived of her favor and the Sword of Legend that was her gift to those who possessed it. To not even fight for his life as she had for those before, leaving him to face the burdens of passing alone.

Abandoned. Forgotten. Even by the sages who spared not a glance for the broken body laying at thier feet. Still clinging futilely to life, staring down a messenger of death with the will to live pulsing through his diminutive spiritual form.

It was too pathetic. Not even the weeping hearts of poets could capture the pain that seared through you at this tragety.

You kneeled down beside the frightened soul, quietly waiting.

Your decision was made. Hylia be damned for her callousness, but you were willing to fight for this one's soul if she chose to return to this place.

Hours passed, days. The sages had long left, taking the young body with them. The soul it once housed had been left behind, bound to the place in which he'd died.

He'd cried and raged as they'd taken his body, small hands grasping at the limp flesh with desperate strength. Though it had meant nothing against the influence of the living. The dead were not meant to transverse the realms of flesh and blood, after all.

He'd stared to you with fear then, a bone deep grief at the inevitability of death. Not much different to his final expression, faced against forces he did not understand nor could he defeat. Helplessness brought to his feet by a destiny that'd long abandoned him.

You'd waited. Until his fear turned to confusion. Till confusion turned to apprehension. Until apprehension turned to boredom. And in that boredom, the child came forth.

"I'm not going to die yet!" He proclaimed quite suddenly many weeks later, standing before you with feet apart and hands on his hips. You merely nodded at that, and he faulted, not expecting such easy acceptance.

"Good!" He pushed on regardless, though his voice was shaken. "So you should return me to my body!"

You shook your head, and for the first time in weeks, spoke. "It is not within my power to return souls to departed flesh."

His lips pulled downwards, looking annoyed. You knew though, by the wavering of his soul, that he was scared of what that meant. That he understood to some extent, even if he did not.

"Then, what do we do?" He asked, and you ached at the unsaid admission. A lost child, torn from everything he'd ever known and seeking guidance in a world that was suddenly so big and so unknown.

Guidance he'd been denied once before. The absence of which had brought him here, at your side, seeking that guidance from a messenger of the dead.

You gave it to him, because you had already decided.

"I will bestow upon you my favor. Should you accept, you will become my champion and I will grant you a body of my own divine essence."

He blinked, unnecessarily, then frowned. "But I'm Hylia's champion." He said simply, not quite denying, but bordering on incredulous.

You stared at him, taking the measure of his soul. He knew, but he needed it said. Even if he'd known for some time, the mortal heart is stubborn and defiant.

Sometimes you have to break it honestly for it to heal.

"She abandoned you. Long before you passed from the living world." You didn't bother to soften your words, wouldn't give him the chance to hide from the truth any longer. No now. Not ever again.

Lies are for the living. Neither of you have that luxury anymore. Not you, and now, not him either.

Your champion.

He didn't fight as you moved closer, he didn't fight as you reached down to cup his small face in your hands. He didn't shed a single tear, just met your gaze with steely determination. That fighter's spirit shining though, hardened by the harshness of a spoken truth.

"Okay." He said, and it echoed within the furthest reaches of his heart, like fire burning away the stagnant rot. "I will be your hero."

You smiled. The fires of divinity burst forth from your hands and cast him aflame, burning away the golden light of Hylia and pouring forth the somber gray of your essence. Like the dim light of an overcast day, like fog rolling over the land.

He didn't shy away, didn't avert his eyes. Just stared up at you with acceptance. Then the flames reached his eyes, cast away the veil of mortality upon them, and the light of divine clarity entered them. He beheld you for the first time as you were, and his spirit burned too with understanding.

'Do you see me, my Champion.' You spoke, not with your lips, but with the pulsing of your essence running through his veins.

He nodded, entranced by your soft, divine light. So different from Hylia's wrathful gold, gentle like shade upon the eyes. Sweet and cool. Accepting of all. Rejecting none.

'Then go forth, my Champion.' You whispered into his heart, your hands upon his narrow shoulders. 'Carry my will with you, always. Bring back the lost souls tainted by Ganon's wrathful malice. Slay them with righteous fiery.'

You placed you forehead to his, and he reached out, grabbed your face with devoted care.

'Bring them home to me.'

"I will not fail you." He vowed, never breaking your gaze as he gave his first solemn promise. "I will liberate my brothers and sisters from the bondage of hatred. I will bring them back to your grace."

'Then go. Fear not the inevitability of Death's touch. For I shall be there beside it, to guide you across the realms one final time.'

He nodded, and you kissed his forehead. Sealing the promise between you, the black symbol of deliverance blooming upon his brow.

'Now live free of divine burden. For you are not alone.'

He closed his eyes. The world disappears around him. Your touch turning inward, settling like warm coals into his heart.

You were gone, but you were not. You'd spoken truth. He would never be alone again.

Suddenly, the warmth of sun is upon his face, the soft give of grass and wet soil beneath his feet the sweetest of homecomings. Fresh, cool air enters his lungs, heavy with the promise of early spring.

He opens his eyes, and below him lies a grassland as far as the eye can see. And within it, trailing great lines within the tall grass, 9 men.

'Your brothers.' He felt your whisper, pushing him forward. 'Go to them. For they are yours still, even if they are not yet mine.'

And he did. Walking into an uncertain future, with you in his heart and his brothers by his side.

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

#linked universe x reader #fallen!time #linked universe #no baby left behind

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 4: Want to Talk About It?

Joel attends your mother's funeral. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 3, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Death. Mention of suicide. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 4.5K

A/N: Anna is vaguely described. Not mentioned in this chapter BUT Anna is adopted (this will be explicitly in the text later) and has no blood relation to Goldie.

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

November 14, 2010

“You sure we should really be here?” Tommy asked, looking over at Joel. 

“Course we should be here,” Joel replied, glancing at him and drying his sweaty palm on his black jeans. “We knew ‘er, too. Wouldn’t just be here to support… we’d be here anyway is what I’m saying.” 

“Right,” Tommy nodded. “OK.” 

The two of them were quiet, tucked away at the back of the funeral parlor. It wasn’t too packed with people, maybe two or three dozen, who were milling around, lining up to go look at your mom’s body. Joel couldn’t bring himself to do that part of it. He’d looked at his dad as he lay cold and still and now he had a hard time picturing him alive. He didn’t want to do that again. 

“She’s gonna be here, right?” Tommy whispered. “I mean… Rhode Island is far and she hasn’t been back since, right?” 

“It’s her mom” Joel whispered back. “Course she’ll be here.” 

He looked back over his shoulder anyway. He wasn’t nearly as confident as he sounded. 

Joel hoped you’d be here. It made sense that you would be. He hadn’t seen you in years. It had been so long he’d started to forget what you sounded like. It was like one day, just after prom, you decided he wasn’t a part of your life anymore and that was that. A switch he didn’t know existed had flipped and his whole life turned upside down with it. 

He almost hadn’t known your mother died. Your fucking mother, the woman who fed him dinner more times than he could count, who called him Joely, who tugged on the ends of his curls when his hair got long and told him to not be shy, to take what he wanted from her kitchen because her home was his home, too. She’d died and he almost hadn’t even heard about it. He wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for a text from your sister. 

Hey Joel, it’s Anna. She wouldn’t want me to tell you this but I think that’s bullshit. Our mom died a few days ago, the funeral is Sunday. Thought you might want to know. Hope you’re doing OK <;3 

It sent him reeling more than anything else related to you had in so long. How could he not have known? That something so big could happen to you and he was just living his life as though things were normal? That he wasn’t helping you through it? He should be helping you through it. 

But it hurt in other ways, too. It made him realize that, really, he was nothing to you. He wasn’t even your fucking Facebook friend. If something happened to you across the country, if you were in a car accident or you needed your appendix out, no one would tell him. He’d never know about it. You could die and it would be a normal day for him because he was nothing to you and no one would tell him that the most important person in the world was gone. 

Before too long, people started finding their seats and Joel fought to not turn around and watch the doors, looking for you. But he still glanced back when you did come in, trailing behind a small cluster of people that looked vaguely familiar. He realized he probably met them at some family event or another, at a birthday party or BBQ because, for three years, you were only ever apart when you had to be. 

And then there you were. You were wearing a black dress with black tights and black high heels and your eyes were red but your face was firm. There was a man beside you, one whose arm you clutched tight and Joel resisted the urge to glare at him. You didn’t even glance at Joel.

Anna came in behind you. She didn’t bother with the pretense of pretending not to cry, little trails of mascara running down her cheeks. But she smiled tightly at Joel and mouthed “hi” and he gave her a sad smile in return. 

Joel watched as you, Anna and that fucking man settled into the front row, his arm going around your shoulders and tugging you against his side. Joel barely listened to the officiant at first, too busy focusing on you. You kept turning your head to look up at the man next to you and at one point he leaned over and kissed your temple and whispered in your ear. Joel ground his teeth. 

But it was easy to pay attention when you got up to give your eulogy. You pulled your gold notebook out of your bag and carried it up to the podium. Your eyes were still red - he could see that, even from the back of the room - and your shoulders were hunched as you arranged the notebook in front of you. But you took a deep, shaky breath and looked up, back straightening and chin jutting out in defiance, jaw set tight. 

“If I had to find one word to summarize my mother, it would be try,” you said. “She was made up of try, I think. She was always trying to make things better for my sister and I, always trying to build the life she wanted… I guess, in the end, trying just became too much for her…” 

Your voice never wavered. It was stronger than Joel remembered but the tone and cadence were so familiar, so like home. Your eyes were red but you didn’t cry. You just stood there, fingers tight on your notebook that you only ever glanced down at, anyway. 

Joel wanted to get up and hug you. You looked like you needed a hug. More than a hug. You looked like you needed someone to carry you for a while, like you needed someone to take you by the shoulders, look you in the eye and say “It’s OK. I’ll take it from here. Rest.” You needed it so much that Joel started to stand up, instinctively, when you finished your speech and headed back to your seat but the man you came in with met you near the podium, putting his arm around you and kissing the top of your head. Joel sat back down. 

“She did good,” Tommy whispered as Joel stared straight ahead. For the first time, your eyes met his. 

“Yeah,” Joel said, not looking away. “She did.” 

After the service, there was a receiving line and Joel held Tommy back. He wondered if, maybe, he could get you alone that way. But that fucking guy was on you like glue, one of his hands on the small of your back he entire time. He was constantly directing you, constantly nudging you where he wanted you to be, adjusting you to stand how he wanted you to stand. Joel wanted to fucking punch him. 

“Thank you for coming,” Anna smiled a little at him, her blue eyes lacking their usual spark. “I know it’s been a while but… well, Mom just loved you.” 

Joel’s throat got tight. 

“I loved her, too,” he said. “She was a great lady. Really.” 

“Yeah,” Anna said, her voice wet as she looked back toward the casket. “Yeah, she was.” 

Joel glanced at you, your fingers in a tight fist around the man’s shirt, your lips at his ear as he frowned a little. Anna looked back at him and followed his eyes. 

“Don’t get me started,” she said, her voice low. “Mom wasn’t huge on him…” 

Joel shook hands quickly with one of your aunts and then he was in front of you. He glanced over at the man and realized he recognized him. The man had to be twice your age, hair going gray and crows feet around his eyes. His chest got tight. 

“Joel,” you said, one arm crossed over the front of yourself, clutching onto your opposite elbow. “Good of you to come.”

“Course,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to shake your hand or not. What did you do with the person who was once your best friend, the person you lost your virginity to, when you hadn’t spoken in years? “Always loved your mom. She was always nicer to me than I deserved.” 

You huffed at that and the man pressed a little closer to you, his hand firmly planted on your lower back. You stood up straighter before you looked toward Tommy and your face softened a little. “Good to see you Tommy. How’s school going?”

“OK,” he shrugged. “I’m passing. Missed you.” 

You smiled ever so slightly. 

“Missed you, too.” 

“You could come visit, you know,” Tommy said. 

“Tommy,” Joel hissed and he just looked up at him. 

“What! She could.” 

“It’s not a great time for me to be leaving school,” you said. “I’ve got classes all year and writing intensives all summer… I’m not sure when I’ll be back again.” 

“Not even to see Anna?” Joel frowned. 

“Anna can always come visit us,” the man at your back said. “Sorry to cut the reunion short but we should keep things moving…” 

“We’re last in line,” Tommy protested. 

“And the family needs to get to the reception,” the man said. “I’m sure you can share your thoughts there.” 

“Right,” Joel said, looking from the man to you. “Sure we can. C’mon Tommy.” 

“But…” 

“Let’s go,” Joel cut him off. “Don’t want to be rude.” 

Joel looked back over his shoulder to you when he made it to the doors, your head bowed and the man’s large hand at the nape of your neck. 

“Guy’s an asshole,” Tommy muttered as he climbed in Joel’s truck. 

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, grinding his teeth a little. “Goldie always had shit taste in men.” 

Joel felt like he deserved a goddamn medal for sitting there, watching you with that fucking guy, silent at a table with your family, family made up of Anna and people he didn’t know. Because, besides Anna, they weren’t your fucking family. He was. Him and Tommy. 

He kept watching for a moment to try to get you alone, some point where you were away from that man who kept fucking pawing at you and who looked like he was old enough to be your fucking father. He tried not to think about how shitty that was. To corner you at your mother’s funeral and force you to talk to him. But it was hard to really care. 

The time for etiquette was long passed. He missed you. He kept thinking that, eventually, the feeling would fade. That he’d wake up in the morning and think of something besides you. That he’d stop looking for signs of you everywhere and in everything. That, eventually, some day, you wouldn’t be the first person he thought of talking to when he had a shit day or when something good happened to him. He couldn’t keep going like this, going on without the answers he should have fucking marched up to you and demanded years ago. Joel wasn’t the type to think the world owed him things but fuck, didn’t you? Didn’t you owe him something? Didn’t being inseparable things whose roots and branches had become so intertwined that one couldn’t live without the other mean that you had to at least tell him before you cut yourself away? You certainly didn’t seem to think so. He disagreed.

And then you came home with that guy, that fucking guy, the one who couldn’t possibly be good enough for you and you let him touch you and hold you and control you during what Joel knew had to be one of the worst times of your life. Did that guy even know? Did he know that your mom took you prom dress shopping and adjusted the hemline herself at the sewing machine in your living room? Did he know how you carefully removed the screen of your bedroom window to climb out of it so your mom wouldn’t hear you open the front door when you left to lay in the bed of Joel’s truck and star gaze at the park? Did he know how sad and kind your mother’s face was when she told him that you’d left town, moved to Rhode Island months earlier than planned, when he came by your house a few days after prom to demand answers? 

Did you?

Eventually, you stood up and leaned down to whisper in the man’s ear and you left the room. The man watched you go and Joel waited for a moment before he followed you. The door you’d gone through led to a hall with bathrooms and an exit to the parking lot and he took a guess, hovering outside the ladies’ room door. He was right, and you nearly walked into him a minute later. 

“Shit,” you said, sniffling a little. “Sorry…” 

“S’OK,” he said quickly. “Thought I’d check on you. See if you wanted a drink.” 

“A drink?” you raised your eyebrows at him. He had the strangest urge to trace the arch of them with his thumb. 

“Yup,” he pulled his flask ever so slightly from his inside leather jacket pocket before tucking it away again. “Bullshit that the person who probably coordinated this whole thing can’t even fucking drink for it. Thought you could use one.” 

“Jesus, could I ever,” you said, looking around quickly. “C’mon.” 

You took his hand as though everything was normal and pulled him along behind you to the door, shoving it roughly open before stepping out into the cool November air. 

“Oh shit, one sec,” you said, hovering by the door for a moment, holding it open with one hand and balancing on one foot. Joel laughed. 

“What the fuck are you doin’ Goldie?” 

“Making sure we don’t get locked out,” you replied, pulling your heel off and putting your shoe between the door and the frame, closing the heavy metal door delicately to make sure it stayed propped open. You limped awkwardly for a few steps before Joel just shook his head and went to you, looping his arm around your waist and half carrying you to the little partial wall that separated the restaurant from the parking lot. He set you down there and watched as you rolled and turned your ankle for a moment before stretching your foot out to a point. “Never buy heels, Joel. They’re not worth the pain.” 

“Noted,” he smiled a little and pulled the flask out of his coat pocket before sitting beside you. He handed it to you first and you looked at it for a moment, smiling a little. 

“This is familiar,” you said, a hint of fondness in your voice. 

“Yeah but I bought the booze this time,” Joel said. You nodded slowly as you took a sip. You winced a little as it went down and handed it back to him. He looked at it for a moment, his finger tracing the neck of it. The metal shined a little, wet with you and the rum. He brought it to his lips, taking a drink. “So… how’re things?” 

“You mean besides the fact that I’m here instead of working on final projects because my mom decided to slit her wrists in the bathtub?” You asked, brows raised. “Just peachy.” 

“Sorry,” Joel flinched, handing you the flask again. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “That was a stupid question.” 

You shrugged. 

“And how are you?” You asked, pulling your arms in tight to yourself. “I know it’s… it’s been a while…” 

“Well, someone I know changed their damn phone number,” Joel said, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders. “But shit’s same as always. Or same as always for the last few years, anyway. Tommy is doing good in school right now. Got a job with some pretty steady work.” 

You frowned, tugging the coat a little tighter to yourself. Joel was reminded of when you’d borrow his letterman years ago, how the sleeves swallowed your fingers because his arms were long enough that they had to special order his size. You’d always looked so fragile there, in his coat. You’d always looked so protected there, too.

“Did you already get your associates?” You took drink and handed the flask back. 

“Nah,” he said, taking it. “Decided not to bother. What’s the point, just flunk out in a semester, maybe two. Figured I’d save myself a lot of grief and money and just cut to the chase, you know?” 

He took a drink.

“That’s bullshit,” you said, gaping at him. “Joel, come on, it’s just two years, you can…” 

“I can what?” He cut you off. “I can fuck around at community college, act like I was ever gonna amount to anything…” 

“Of course you’re going to amount to something,” you interrupted him this time. “You already amount to something and…” 

“I amount to something?” He asked, voice getting heated. “Really? Is that why you took off without a fuckin’ word? Just ditched me here, blocked me on fucking Facebook, changed your fuckin’ number? Because I amount to so damn much…” 

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what!” He was on his feet now and you flinched at his raised voice. “Don’t talk about it? Don’t point out the fucking obvious? Don’t actually hold you accountable for your shitty actions?” 

“My shitty actions?” You gaped at him before you laughed darkly. “Oh wow, that’s fucking rich coming from you…” 

“Yeah, yours!” He yelled. “Because I sure as shit don’t know what the fuck I did…” 

“Bullshit you don’t know what you did,” you snapped. “Come on, Joel, don’t pretend that you’re dumb. Don’t pretend that I’m dumb. We both know…” 

“I don’t know shit! I don’t know a fuckin’ thing when it comes to you, Goldie! I know you left! I know your mom wouldn’t give me your number! I know you apparently never even fucking thought about me…” 

“You don’t know a goddamn thing…” 

“I do know that you showed up here with that fucking guy!” He pressed on. “What the fuck is that? How old is he, hm?” 

“It’s not your fucking business!” 

“Should be someone’s fucking business!” He snapped. “Because he has to be, what, twice your age?” 

“So what if he is? I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want…” 

“An adult,” he laughed but there was no humor in it. “Adult, you can’t even buy your own fucking booze and you’re, what, fucking some 50-year-old man? What is he, your fucking professor, that it?” 

“He’s 40!” You snapped, on your feet, awkwardly off balance with your missing shoe. “And who cares how I met him, he thinks I’m smart! He wants to be around me, he looks out for me, he…” 

“He’s takin’ advantage of you is what he’s fuckin’ doing!” Joel’s chest was heaving. “Been watching him control you all goddamn day! You really think he cares about you? Knows you? You’re just gonna be one of many to him, Goldie, he probably does this with every pretty girl in his damn classes…” 

“Does he propose to them?” Your left hand flew in between you, palm facing you as you held it up. There was a large, solitary oval diamond on your ring finger. Joel felt sick. “I’m not just some girl to him, I’m not just another lay in a long line of lays. He loves me, he respects me and I love him and I don’t need your fucking judgement, Joel.” 

“Doll?” Joel’s head whipped around to see that fucking guy poking his head out of the door you’d propped open with your missing shoe. “Everything OK?” 

“Fine,” you smiled a little and shrugged out of Joel’s coat, handing it back to him. “Just needed some air.” 

“Folks are looking for you,” he said, looking over at Joel for a moment. “Should get back.” 

“Right,” you said, taking a deep breath for a moment before looking back at Joel. “Good to catch up, I guess. You really should think about getting your associates at least. It’d do you good.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond, limping awkwardly for the door before delicately putting your foot into the black pump as your fucking fiance held onto you. 

Joel gave himself a few minutes to calm down before going back inside and finding Tommy. 

He didn’t stay. 

Instead, he dropped Tommy at his mom’s house and headed to the bar near his apartment that he liked best. He played there sometimes, just him and his voice and his guitar, knowing full well that there’d never be a record label scout in the crowd but it felt good pretending. 

It was still early, the bar pretty dead, and he took a seat off to the side before ordering a Shiner. He sat there, grinding his teeth and trying not to think of you with him. It wasn’t even that he got to be with you all the time instead of Joel. If you didn’t want Joel, fine, he wasn’t going to force himself on you but fuck, couldn’t you see what was right in front of you? That you deserved better than that? 

“Hey.” 

Joel almost jumped at the sound of someone next to him. He turned to find a woman there, about the same age as him. She was beautiful, with dark skin and curly hair and eyes it would be very easy to get lost in if he could get lost in anything right then. 

“Hey,” he replied, looking back toward the bar and taking another sip of his beer. 

“Mind if I sit here?” She asked. 

Joel shrugged. 

“Thanks,” she said, climbing up on the stool next to him. “Don’t really feel like dealing with the attention I get when I sit by myself but I desperately needed a drink…” 

She leaned over the bar and flagged down the bartender before ordering a whiskey on the rocks. 

“That good a day?” Joel asked after a moment. 

“Something like that,” she sighed. Jimmy, the bartender, set her drink in front of her and she took a sip before sighing. “Looks like about the same for you.” 

“Yup,” he said. 

“Want to talk about it?” She asked after a moment. 

“Not really,” he replied. She nodded. “You?” 

“No,” she said. “I’m Ashley, by the way.” 

“Joel.” 

“Good to meet you, Joel,” she smiled a little. 

He sat there with her for a while. He liked her well enough, he supposed. She was nice and lightly funny in a way that didn’t cut him deep. But when she smiled, she smiled like you. Slow and easy at first and then spreading wide like your whole self was cracking open with it. Fuck, he’d always loved making you smile like that. He missed making you smile like that. 

So when he finished his beer and didn’t want to be away from that smile, not yet, he asked if she wanted to come back to his place. 

“Sure,” she smiled like you. “That’d be nice.” 

They skipped the pretense of it, not bothering to feel each other up on the couch or make a pot of coffee that would sit untouched until morning. Instead, they went straight to his bedroom, pawing at each other’s clothes and pulling their bodies free of their confines as quickly as possible. 

Joel kissed her deep and hard and desperate and she pressed her soft, plush body against his and it felt good, getting lost in another person like this. It seemed like the only time in his life that he wasn’t stuck living at least halfway in some other reality where things had turned out different was when he was inside someone else. He sought it out like an addict, always searching for that next high, anything that would put him far away from the low he lived in. But he was careful. Always used a condom, always got at least some feel for the woman he was fucking first so he felt like he could trust her. 

But he was reckless with Ashley. He needed to feel something else too bad to put much thought into any of it. He reached for his nightstand and fumbled in the top drawer, pulling the last condom from the box and making a mental note to buy more when he got paid next. He tore it with his teeth and realized too late that he’d caught more than just the foil pack when he did.

“Fuck,” he panted, already naked on top of her. “Do you have…” 

“No,” she said, all breathless and needy below him. “But it’s OK. I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I’m OK with it if you are.” 

He looked down at her in the darkness, the moonlight casting shadows over her face. But then she smiled at him, slow at first then all at once. Just like you. 

“Really,” she said. “It’s fine.” 

“Fuck it,” he said, lining himself up with her entrance, the soft, wet heat of her pulling him in. 

“That’s the idea,” she smiled and then gasped as he pushed into her, chasing that high with her body below him. 

He fucked into her until she came and then she pushed him on his back, fucking herself down on him and Joel looked up at her and got the sense that she was in this for the same reasons he was. That this had very little to do with him. 

“Gonna come,” he warned, his hands on her waist. “Should pull out…” 

“Don’t,” she panted. “About to come again, fuck, just… just let me…” 

Her hands spread wide on his chest and she rode him harder, faster before pushing him in deep and coming around him, the pulsing of her walls setting off his orgasm, only aware enough to care for half a second before it hit that he shouldn’t be coming inside a total fucking stranger. 

She collapsed on top of him and he held her for a moment, not able to shake the feeling that he’d just made a monumental mistake. It reminded him of the morning after prom, the morning after the last time he came inside someone without protection. How afraid he’d been that he’d ruined things for you, that he’d gotten you pregnant and destroyed your life. But he hadn’t. At least, not that he knew of. He just lost you instead.

Ashley left not long after, just a quick “Thanks, Joel. That was fun.” after he gave her a glass of water. They swapped phone numbers but, in the moment, it seemed like pretense. This was what you did after a one night stand to pretend like it wasn’t a one night stand. It felt better if you could lie to yourself and say that every random fuck was just the start of a relationship that didn’t pan out. He didn’t plan to call her. He didn’t expect to hear from her again. 

He was wrong. 

Next Chapter

A/N: We all know what happened there with Ashley, right?

OK, cool.

Hope you all enjoyed this little glimpse at the last time Joel and Goldie saw each other before they reunited at the same bar where Joel picked up Sarah's mom 12 years earlier! These two, they kill me, I swear.

Thanks so much for reading the menace that is high school best friend!Joel. I'm in love with him, I fear. I hope you are, too.

Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

[yuri-is-online]

Jade would be VERY pleased about finally having another club member. I would be happy to listen to him info dump while we look at mushrooms and neat nature stuff.

I let this sit in my ask box for too long but I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while and then harveston had to go and drop that one line validating my delusions and you've given me an excuse to post it ha

notes: they/them used for Yuu, violence against animals (a bear), swearing at animals (the same bear), Yuu is unnaturally strong (enough to fight a bear), Yuu is implied to have grown up in a forest/woodsy environment, Jade typical blackmail. Other more serious fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Once upon a time, back when you first arrived in this world, you had been unsure how to feel about NRC. Castles existed back home, sure, but ones like this belonged firmly in illustrations or video games; it felt a but nauseating to walk through your wildest dreams brought to life, even if it was exciting sometimes. It was little wonder to you then that the idea of a Mountain Lover's Club was so appealing.

"Did you hike a lot back home?" Trey has that strange smile on his face that suggests you have made him tense somehow.

"Yes. I practically grew up in the woods." The flow of wind through the branches, the smell of fresh rain on the decomposing earth below, all of it wrapped you in a familiar sense of serenity even if the tree line was completely foreign to you. What are men to rocks and mountains after all? You could make yourself right at home here-

"I still don't think you should join." Trey says with all the air of a man who is certainly not telling you something, but the surprising harsh nod of agreement Riddle gives before injecting himself into the conversation convinces you more than whatever Trey had in mind likely could.

"I'm not entirely certain what they do," Riddle has never forbid you from participating in things since you and his dorm-mates brought him back to his senses," but if you want to hike it might be safer if you did it by yourself, assuming you let one of us know when you are going and when you expect to be back. It wouldn't do to have something that brings you so much joy used against you prefect, none of us want that." But he has always expressed concern when he thinks things to be unsafe, and in this case his argument was something you found yourself agreeing with. Hiking is best done at your own pace anyway, why get a club full of self-centered assholes involved in your me time? Though you did wish now they had been a bit more... specific with their concerns. Maybe outlined some of the club's scheduling, but then they would have needed to ask him and in so doing betrayed your interest.

Which would have been much less embarrassing than how Jade actually found out. Because of course he did, was there ever any doubt he would? ~~~~ There is a creek not far up the mountain path behind your dorm you like to rest at when coming back from your adventures. It's a good place to check over the photos on your camera and enjoy the last few rays of sunlight before returning to whatever mess Grim had made in Ramshackle searching for where you had moved all the tuna cans. Sometimes he joined you, and the two of you would have a little picnic up the path a bit further, but that day had not been one of those days. Nor had the day you met this particular nemesis who is staring you down from just across the creek with such a judgmental glance you would think this was a Sunday brunch and not an afternoon meander through the forest.

"The fuck do you want bitch?" You snarl and the bear indignantly sniffs as if to imply she's better than you. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't realize it was my fault your face is so fucking crooked, thought you were just born that way." She huffs again, making a big show of turning her back on you as you rush to get your equipment off and tucked safely out of reach before the skankiest grizzly you've ever met whips around and charges you shrieking something about "how dare you steal her man!!!!" and blah blah blah "I'll show you, you good for nothing hussy!!!!" as if you could actually understand her and this wasn't a three act play you insisted on writing yourself. You weren't even sure this bear was a girl if you stopped to think about it in between punches, not that you really cared. She huffs and makes a valiant attempt to pin you as you snarl and flash your teeth and beat her right back into the creek laughing at what sounds like pathetic winging about "kids these days!!!" and how rude you are for-

A startled noise pauses your match, as you both turn, harsh glares towards a break in the thicket where a very out of place, very surprised looking man stands, hand infuriatingly poised casually at his chin. His infuriating smirk doesn't unfurl until you growl, deep and low reverberating through your opponent just enough that she decides to leave for the day while you are preoccupied.

"Oya, this is a surprise." Jade doesn't move and you stay firm in the creek, body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he decides to move just a bit closer. "If you were that desperate for a sparring partner, I'm sure Floyd would have obliged, animal abuse is not exactly legal you know?"

"What the fuck are you doing here." You spit before you exit the creek, a flash of something darting through Jade's eyes as his gaze darts between you and your pack on the ground.

"Me? I should be asking that of you. The Mountain Lover's Club had to go through quite an ordeal to get permission to leave the school grounds unsupervised..." His teeth begin to show as you crash down from your high, you hadn't actually thought of whether or not you would need to talk to someone other than a friend about where you were going... surely Riddle would have mentioned something if you did? Or did he not think to ask since he wasn't the adventurous sort? "I can't imagine how the Headmage would react to know his ward had been sneaking out to terrorize the local wildlife."

"Hey Brenda started it!" You snap and Jade looks briefly towards the treeline where a very indignant bear is pursing her lips and inspecting her claws, the very picture of innocence if he does say so himself. "She stole my sandwich while I was taking pictures of the sunset!"

"Maybe you should have had someone there to hold it for you." He laughs, finally moving from his spot towards you and your pack, eyes gleaming with familiarity as he looks over your things. "Perhaps, someone who would be willing to... forget about what he just saw if they accompanied him next time?" It's a threat using what gives you joy against you certainly, and you huff indignantly at it but don't deny his request. Jade is an eel of his word, and his joy at doubling the Mountain Lover's Club membership cannot be contained as he ushers you the rest of the way down the mountain, eager to plan your first expedition together.

Not that he intends to ever delete the pictures he took. Your angry face is just too cute.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #<3 asks #jade leech x yuu #jade: why yes my lockscreen is my partner fighting a bear #what do you mean yours can't do that? skill issue :/ #idk this sucks just take it i needed to warm up before working on my longer stuff

[hadeantaiga]

Hey, I have a question and I was wondering if you could help because it’s really been confusing me lately. If not, for any reason at all, you’d rather not I totally understand. You can just delete the ask.

With a lot of pro-ship arguments I see the phrase it’s “just fiction” and idea that fiction can’t harm anyone. However propaganda is still obviously dangerous and representation is important. I don’t know how exactly the rules are different for these things and I’d really appreciate any thoughts you had on the topic, if you have any. I might be missing some obvious part to this, my brain tends to do that

So it's not that the rules are different, it's that the entire context is different, including the intent, impact and scope.

I used to deal with this mental conflict as well, as a young person. I was raised republican, and one of their big tactics is oversimplifying things. So you learn "violence is bad", and then you see BLM protestors and the January 6th rioters, and the simplified world view says "if you think the BLM thugs are justified, then so were the January 6th patriots - they both rioted, they both fought for their rights against the establishment".

Now obviously, those two situations are absolutely not equivalent when you think about them for longer than a millisecond, but the simplified world view does not want you to think. In the simplified mindset, "destroying property" is always wrong, no matter the reason why. So if you are OK with it in one situation, you cannot disagree in another and vice versa. And that is the mindset Antis have when it comes to fanfic: if propaganda is bad and can negatively influence people, if giant blockbuster movies, famous novels, and popular TV shows can negatively influence stereotypes about people and cause other harm, then it is equally wrong to write about icky kinks on Ao3.

The thing is though, these are not at all equivalent situations. Propaganda is created with the explicit intent to influence people's opinions about a subject area. The scope and impact of famous authors and directors is way, way bigger than a fan author on Ao3 - and big-name folks like that do actually have to deal with the impact of their work. Spielberg regrets the negative impact Jaws had on sharks, for instance.

A fanfic you write for yourself and post on Ao3 for a niche audience of fans is going to get a couple thousand hits, at best. It's very unlikely to ever escape the awareness of people in your fandom. And especially if you have tagged it correctly, the only people who are going to read it in the first place are people who are already into that kink, or who are open to it. It is never going to influence culture at large. My kinky fanfic is not going to have the same cultural impact as Steven Spielberg's Jaws did in 1975. And no, my fanfic is not going to "normalize rape culture".

Any work of fiction can have unintended impacts. This is not a logical justification to not create art. "Problematic art" not only deserves to exist, it needs to exist. If you don't agree with that, then you might as well be on the side of the folks in red states across this nation who are banning books in schools, forcibly rewriting history to erase slavery from the USA's past, and thinking they can get rid of "problematic media" they claim is "grooming their children".

#fandom #fanfic #fiction #freedom of speech

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Phantom of Pabu - Part 2

Summary: After being rescued from the Empire, Crosshair spends his days miserably existing on Pabu. Haunted by the past, he's slowly drowning in his thoughts, until he spots you. You pique his interest from the start, a person who might just be more broken than he is.

Pairing: Crosshair x reader

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, rehashing of things that happened in the last chapter, mentions of a suicide attempt, nightmares, sleepwalking, pining, Crosshair is in love but completely oblivious, blasters, emotions, brief non-descriptive gore, Crosshair and his savior complex, misunderstandings

A/N: Here's part 2. It's slightly less heavy than the last part, but it's still covers some intense emotions. As with the previous chapter, please heed the warnings.

< Previous | Next > | MASTERLIST

The air ripples with warmth, the breeze doing little to cool his skin. 

Sand shifts under his legs as he stretches them out, joins popping in protest of being forced into one position for too long. He’s damp from sea water and sweat, the body pressed against him offering no relief from the already sweltering rays of the sun. 

He would never dare move, nor would he complain. 

You’ve finally succumbed to sleep, back pressed against his chest as he gently cradles you. The warm sun and the quiet flowing of the waves back and forth on the beach has lulled you into a peaceful slumber. He knew as soon as your head dropped to the side, resting against his jaw that you had lost the battle against the exhaustion plaguing your body. 

His fingers trail the smooth skin of your arm, a ghost of a touch to avoid disturbing you. Sleep is a rare occurrence so to have it come naturally was a blessing. He would sit until his back ached, until his joints creaked in protest, until his muscles shook with fatigue. He would not wake you, no matter how uncomfortable he became. 

Even if he had to remain on the beach until the sun dropped below the horizon and the stars revealed themselves. He would wrap himself around you, share his warmth as the air cooled in the absence of the sun. He would sit until the sky lightened with the coming sunrise, as if he was standing vigil to assure your body received the rest it so desperately needed. 

You breathe out a sigh in your sleep, shuffling to adjust yourself before you settle, chest rising and falling evenly with your breaths. He resists the urge to kiss the top of your head, to press his nose into your hair and breathe in the soft scent of the shampoo you favored. He could get lost in you oh so easily. 

He wants to. 

***

Crosshair wakes with a sigh, eyes squinting against the oppressive sunlight shining in his window. He hauls his body up, sitting on the edge of his bed. His blankets are strewn across the bed, the byproduct of his tossing and turning late into the night. His dreams have taken a bizarre turn, though he can hardly complain as the number of nightmares have been reduced. He no longer feels the panic, sees the horrors of the past every time he closes his eyes. 

Sometimes he sees you.

Your face, those tired eyes, the pull of your lips upward into what could have been a smile  when you’d spoken to Omega. You’ve infiltrated his mind, commandeered his dreams, just as much as you’ve invaded his life in the real world. 

He runs a hand over his head, over the short curls regrowing. He’s given up shaving his head after a thought provoking conversation with Hunter. He rises from the bed, stretching his limbs. It’s early, his nightly stroll not lasting quite as long as usual last night. Perhaps he was succumbing to exhaustion as well. 

He slips out of his door, grabbing a cup of caf from the kitchen. Tech is missing, having left last night to visit Phee. It’s perfect timing, allowing him a chance to make a house call without the threat of her being there as well. He knows his sudden appearance would raise questions, and she would be incessant until she got her answers. 

He won’t force you to face the interrogation Phee would likely force you into, should she get the feeling something was occurring between the two of you.

His steps are purposeful as he makes his way down the street, the glare on his face enough to keep most inhabitants at a distance as he prefers. His destination is your small home, not a great distance from the one he shares with his brothers, but far enough he has time to think of what he’s going to say. 

He hasn’t seen you since the morning after that night. It’s only been three days, and Phee had mentioned seeing you every day during her invasion of their space to see Tech. He had given the others a brief explanation of your sudden appearance, but Hunter was the only one that knew the entire truth of what happened that night, and he had been sworn to secrecy. Crosshair hadn’t seen you during his nightly strolls, and even though your lights were still on every hour of the day, he hadn’t noticed much movement in the windows. He hoped it was because you were sleeping, but he knew better than to be hopeful of such a miracle. 

He’s not entirely sure why he’s felt the need to visit you today. Fear stirs within his gut, not unlike the feelings he’d had carrying you back to his home that night. What if he hadn’t gone for a walk? What if he had been too late? What if he hadn’t been close and instead heard the thump of your body as it landed a hundred feet below?  

He shakes the thoughts from his mind, focusing his attention on your home as it comes into view. He slows his pace as he spots you on the porch, sitting in your usual place with a cup of what he assumes is caf in your hands. 

He hopes it’s caf. 

You look up as his shadow falls over you, squinting in the bright morning light up at him. “Hello, Crosshair.” You say, shielding your eyes so you can see him better. “You’re growing your hair out.” 

“Yes.” He says slowly, all the thoughts of what he was going to say having fled his mind, leaving him blank. 

You stare up at him for a moment. “It looks good. I like it.” You take a sip of your drink, in lighter spirits this morning than you have been previously. You don’t look any less exhausted, but you certainly look less sickly. You look more alive than you have in a while. “Would you like some caf?” 

“Yes.” He says again, suddenly feeling foolish at his loss for words. 

“Man of many words this morning.” You say, pushing yourself up to stand. “Come on in.” 

He follows you through the door into your little home. It’s cleaner than the last time he’d been inside. The trash has been cleared from the floor as well as the plates and cutlery. The blankets and clothes have been piled in a corner, and the floors have been swept. He’s unsure if you remember him entering your house that night, so he refrains from making any mention of your improved living conditions. 

You pour him a cup of caf in a clean looking cup, meaning you had also washed the dishes that had been left lying around. You pass him the cup before taking a seat at your dining table. It’s much smaller than the one in his home, but then again, you didn’t need as much space as they did. He follows you, sitting in the seat across from you. 

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you did for me that night.” You say, staring at him. It takes him by surprise. He was used to you avoiding eye contact, doing everything within your power to avoid looking at him or at anyone. “I literally owe you my life.”

The words twist something deep within him. Far too many times over the last year he’s been the one responsible for ending others' lives. He’s never been thanked for saving someone’s life before. He had, though. If he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t grabbed you, you would be in a far worse state if you had even survived the fall in the first place. He’s not sure how he should be feeling. 

“I don’t even know how I could begin to repay you.” You shrug.

“Come over later.” He’s saying it before he even thinks, before he can catch his tongue. 

You seem as taken aback as he feels for saying it aloud. Your eyes have widened, mouth partly open in preparation for whatever you had been planning to say next. 

“Omega hasn’t stopped talking about you.” He continues, seeking any excuse he can think of. It’s not entirely a lie. The kid hasn’t stopped bringing you up since you left that morning. Perhaps in the strange way she seemed to, she understood the pain that you wore on your sleeve.

"Okay. I guess I could manage that. For Omega." You say, the corner of your mouth lifting. "Should I bring anything?"

He shakes his head. "No." Just yourself in one piece. He can't bring himself to speak it aloud, as if saying it might manifest a tragedy. “Not unless you’d like to.” 

You nod slowly. “Alright.” 

He drains the rest of his caf, ignoring the burn as it goes down before he stands. “I should get back.” 

You stand as well, nodding. “Okay. I’ll see you later, then?” 

There’s a knowing glint in your eye as you stare at him. You have to know he stopped by to check on you. You have to know he’s inviting you only to see you, to have an excuse to watch you, to make sure you’re alright. To make sure you don’t do anything stupid while he’s not there.

He nods, leaving your home. There’s a strange tingling in his fingers as he walks the short distance back to his own home. His stomach is fluttering as he pictures your face and that look you’d given him. It’s not nerves. He so rarely feels nervous. Is he sick? It would be very unlikely. Tech had imbued them with the knowledge of their heightened immune systems many times. 

He tries to shake off the feeling, but it only continues to grow as he anticipates your arrival at his home. 

***

Hunter is staring at him. He can feel the questioning gaze of his brother as he sits on the opposite end of the couch. His leg is bouncing again. No matter how hard he tries to prevent it, he cannot stop the nervous jitters that have settled into his limbs. 

It has been four hours since he left your home. Time has slowed, dragging on infinitely as he awaits your appearance. He wonders if you’ve convinced yourself not to come, or if perhaps you’ve relapsed in some way, the madness he knows lies under the surface has returned, driving you into an inebriated state. 

Many things could have transpired in the walk between your houses. Perhaps he should have offered to walk with you, gone back to your home to ensure you made it safely. It was utterly ridiculous to think anyone on Pabu posed a threat to you or your safety. He was more concerned with you and your own actions. 

He’s decided he’s going to get up and walk to your home to ensure you’re alright and nothing has happened when the knock sounds on the door. Omega is up and running before any of them can react, halfway there by the time Crosshair’s heart has slowed to a semi-normal rate. 

The tension eases in his shoulders as she shouts your name, pulling you inside. Crosshair is silently grateful for Omega’s excitement at your arrival. It only helps reaffirm his reasoning for inviting you. Omega was quite taken with you, and had spent the last few days asking Hunter when you were coming over again. 

Omega all but pulls you to the couch, and you greet everyone with a “hello” and a small wave. She pulls you down on the couch next to her, sitting you next to him. You turn to look at him, giving him a small smile. It’s the most genuine smile he’s seen since he first met you, though it still doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Hello.” You say quietly, giving him a small smile of his own before your attention is drawn away by Omega. 

Crosshair only feels slightly guilty for unintentionally forcing you at Omega’s mercy. 

So the next knock on the door isn’t someone coming to tell him there was an accident. 

The thought of losing you is terrifying. It could happen so easily, so quickly, and he had witnessed the proof of that. He’s not going to risk it. Not anymore. 

“Hunter picked a holofilm for us to watch.” Omega says, tossing a blanket over her lap and yours. 

Hunter had watched the film the previous night after Omega went to bed to ensure it was appropriate. 

Crosshair doesn’t focus much on the holofilm. His gaze is drawn to you more often than not, watching you and your reactions, the expressions on your face when you think no one is looking. You look so calm, the normal squaring of your shoulders gone, the tension in your face relaxed. 

He likes seeing you like this, at ease with the world even if it’s just for a moment. He wishes he could keep you like this forever, so relaxed, so at ease. He knows as soon as you return home, the nightmares will start again. The risk of a relapse will increase dramatically. 

Omega convinces you to stay after the first holofilm is over, keeping you through a second. The others come and go, but Hunter and Crosshair remain on the couch with the two of you. She keeps you through dinner, then for a third holofilm before Hunter finally calls it quits. 

You stretch your limbs, letting out a yawn. Crosshair is tempted to invite you to stay, tempted to offer up his bed in hopes you might remain in this relaxed state and get some peaceful sleep. He knows you will refuse, not wanting to infringe anymore than you likely feel like you have. He knows Hunter would offer no complaints, except that he might find it hard to sleep with someone new in the house, but Crosshair would prefer you get a chance to sleep over his brother. 

“I should get home.” You say, rising from the couch. “Thank you for inviting me. This was nice, spending time with others.” 

Crosshair rises from the couch, his joints aching in protest of being forced in the same position for too long. “I will walk you home.” 

“Want to make sure I don’t get lost?” You joke, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

It’s quiet as you walk with him back to your home. Once again Crosshair finds the silence comfortable, not forced. It's a relief after having conversation forced on him and being subjected to others’ incessant needs to talk. He could sit in silence with you for hours and he would never grow tired of it. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You say, slowing to a stop in front of your porch. You turn to look up at him, face shining in the light from the lamps on the street. You look more alive in their soft glow than you had that first night he saw you. He wants to ask you about it, but that would mean having to admit he had been following you. He’s still not sure how you will react to his confession. “It was nice spending time with other people.” 

He nods slowly. “You don’t have to wait for an invitation.” He finds himself saying. It’s true, none of his brothers would mind if you stopped by, and Omega would be thrilled if you popped in unexpectedly. 

You give him another small smile. He’s finding he likes the look of you wearing a smile. It’s far preferable to the sad, lost look you usually wore. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You step up onto the porch, still watching him as you approach the door. “Goodnight, Crosshair.” 

He waits until after you’ve stepped inside, after the door has slid closed, after the lights have turned on and he’s watched your form pass in the window before he turns, making his way down the street. He’s committed your smile to memory, even if it’s only a half smile. It’s more than he’s seen from you in the entirety of your residence on Pabu. The image of the phantom in his mind is slowly melting away, the image of your smile taking its place. 

***

The next time he sees you, it feels a bit like deja vu. 

You’re on the landing platform once more, speaking with Phee. You look far less desperate than you had the last time he’d seen you in this particular situation, but he can’t help the stirring in his stomach as he watches you hand over a bag of credits. It’s Hunter calling his name that keeps him from storming over there and confronting Phee. 

It’s been plaguing his mind since that night, the anger at Phee for enabling your drinking. He knows you could likely get alcohol from anywhere on the island. There were certainly other inhabitants that had some that you could pawn drinks from, but Phee has been the one supplying you. Enabling your addiction. 

He thought you were improving. He thought things may have been looking up. He knows you’re still not sleeping as much as you should, he knows you’re still haunted by the past, but he had hoped at least the drinking would come to an end. Or, at least lessen from what it had been. 

Has your improvement been a facade? An attempt to keep him at a distance? Were your smiles nothing more than props to hide the damage that was still being wrought beneath the surface?

Had you done it on purpose? 

He has a need to confront you, to demand answers. He wants to know what goes on in your head. He’s seen over the wall and glimpsed the detriment behind it. He wants to make it to the other side, be thrown into your suffering, if only to know so he can truly help you. 

There is no healing for him. He is a lost cause. 

You, however, are not. Not to him. He had destroyed lives. You had your life destroyed. He can still fix you. He knows he can. 

***

He needs to see you. No matter how tired he feels after a long supply run, he needs to see you. He needs to know just how far you have fallen back into your own ways. Would that image he had of you and your smile be wiped away once more and replaced with the old image of the phantom that haunted the streets of Pabu? Or would he find an entirely new kind of monster? 

He doesn’t think much of it when he hears the knock on the door as he changes clothes. It wasn’t unusual for visitors to appear after their supply runs. Inhabitants offering their thanks for picking up items for them, offering things in repayment, or simply asking after news from the rest of the galaxy. Things were bleak, with the Empire expanding its control further and further, but still people asked. They wanted to know. They were hopeful. 

He recognized the gratingly happy tone of Phee, an annoyed groan rumbling through his chest. If he leaves while she’s here, she’ll start wondering, start asking questions. He desperately needs to see you, however. He needs to make sure you’re safe. 

He needs to make sure you survived his absence. 

He pauses in pulling on his shirt when he hears a second voice, the unmistakable quiet tone and soft spoken words that you used when you were nervous. He quickly finishes dressing before stepping out of his room. He needs to see you to ensure he’s not hearing the ghost of your voice, or perhaps hallucinating. 

No, you’re very real standing in his kitchen. 

“I wanted to make you something special, as a thank you for how kind you’ve been.” You’re saying as you stir something in a pot. “And I know how tired you must be after traveling.” 

“Thank you.” Hunter says. “That’s kind of you.” 

“What is it?” Wrecker asks, stepping up closer to smell the stew. 

“It’s a Devothian recipe.” You say, Echo grabbing bowls out of the cupboard. “It’s a stew that’s served during celebrations and holidays. It’s not an exact recreation since some of the ingredients were native to Devoth, but I gave a list to Phee and she did a good job finding replacements.” 

Your words give Crosshair pause. Was that what you were discussing with Phee on the landing platform? Was he mistaken in his assumptions that you had returned to your previous vice? 

“Happy to do it, sweetcheeks.” Phee says, grabbing a bowl. 

It’s silent around the table as they all eat. It’s a rare occurrence that there’s not some noise, especially with eight bodies around the table. The stew is good. It’s delicious. Crosshair cannot blame the fact he lived off tasteless rations most of his life for his opinion. He’s had real food since his rescue, but none of it had compared to this. He can only imagine what the stew with the complete ingredients tastes like, if this is only a recreation with what was available. 

The thought makes him a bit sad. He had lost his home when Kamino was destroyed, but Kamino had hardly been a home. They had been tortured, experimented on, treated like nothing more than livestock to be sent out to war where they were likely to die. He had never truly had a place he considered home, outside of the Marauder. He can’t imagine the pain of losing a home, a place that was supposed to be safe. To be torn from that and then forced to sift through the few remnants left behind by a war you had no part in...he can understand the pain, the fear. The thought history might repeat itself and you’ll find yourself in a similar position once again. 

Wrecker lets out a satisfied groan, leaning back in his seat. “That was fantastic!” 

“It’s so good!” Omega says, drinking the rest of the broth in her bowl.

You smile sheepishly. “Thank you. I thought having a little piece of home might be nice, and I wanted to share it.” 

“We’re glad you did.” Hunter says. “No offense Echo, but I haven’t tasted anything that good in...well, ever.” 

“None taken.” Echo says. “That was delicious.” 

Crosshair fights the smile threatening to spread across his lips as you get shy from their praise. 

“I’m always happy to help out, since I keep finding myself here.” You say bashfully, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

“You’re always welcome, whenever you’d like.” Hunter says. 

Crosshair is silently pleased with the invitation. Perhaps he’ll be seeing more of you, now that Hunter’s also given the approval of your presence in their home. He doubts Omega will let you stay away for long, something he’s also secretly grateful for. He can at least use the kid as an excuse. 

He walks you home after dark once more, Omega having convinced you to stay after dinner. Tech and Phee had left, meaning he was in the clear to walk you home without worrying about drawing Phee’s curiosity. You walk in silence once again, Crosshair finding the silence more meaningful than anything he could try to say. It speaks to how comfortable he feels with you, how much he likes being with you. 

“Thanks for walking me home. Again.” You say once you reach your doorstep. “I’ll see you soon, most likely.” 

He nods, the corner of his lips tugging up. “Most likely.” 

“Goodnight, Crosshair.” You say, giving him a small smile before you disappear back into your house. 

He stands there for a few moments, watching the lights turn on, and your figure move around your house. He wonders what you’re doing, what your nightly routine looks like, if you have one. He wonders if you’ll sleep, if you’ll find any rest, or if those nightmares will return once more and plague you through the night. He wishes he could get such an intimate look into your life, more than he’s already seen. He wants to see the normal, the mundane, the unconscious parts of your life that are second nature. 

He can’t keep the thoughts of what that might look like from invading his brain as he returns back to his home. 

***

Crosshair does see more of you as the weeks continue. He checks on you often, under the guise of inviting you over to visit. You become a staple in the house, not just Omega enjoying your presence. You regularly get roped into assisting Echo in the kitchen, even teaching him new techniques and recipes. 

You liked to cook. You hadn’t really gotten a chance to since your home was destroyed. Being alone meant you had no one to cook for, and with your chronic exhaustion, you didn’t often get chances to cook. Crosshair can see just how much you enjoy it as you come to find a rhythm around them. 

You’ve joined them this evening for another holofilm, a common reason you graced their home aside from excuses to cook. It’s late, later than you usually stay, but Omega had insisted on a rather long holofilm. The kid herself is asleep, tucked comfortably in Hunter’s lap. You’ve drifted off miraculously, head drooping until it fell against his shoulder. He’d frozen in place, barely breathing for a beat as he waited for you to wake back up, but you slept soundly. 

Hunter takes Omega to bed, disappearing into his own room. Crosshair stays where he is, not wanting to disturb you. He’d sit on this couch all night in this position if it means you get some sleep. He’d stay awake, guarding you from your nightmares and thoughts if it means you finally get to rest, even just for a while. 

You stay asleep until the credits are rolling, when you wake suddenly, inhaling sharply as you sit up. “Sorry.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should probably get back home before I get any more tired.” 

“It’s late.” Crosshair says. “Sleep here tonight.” 

“I don’t want to put you out.” You murmur. 

“Never.” He says. “You need to rest.” 

You hum, still half asleep. He makes sure you’re seated upright before he stands. He takes your hands, gently easing you up to standing. You yawn, rubbing your eyes as you sway slightly on your feet. He guides you back to his room, pulling the covers back before helping you in. You don’t put up a fight, not entirely awake still, he thinks. 

Good. Maybe you’ll get some rest tonight. 

He pulls the covers up to your shoulder, your eyes already closed by the time he exits his room. He grabs a spare blanket before settling on the couch. It’s just long enough for him to lay down, not any more uncomfortable than the beds the GAR had supplied. It takes him a while to drift off to sleep, your face invading his thoughts every time he closes his eyes. 

It feels strange to be thinking of you while you’re in a different room, instead of a different house. It feels almost wrong, like you might be able to somehow see his thoughts at this proximity. 

He drifts off into a light sleep, the image of your face imprinted in his mind. 

He doesn’t sleep long. 

He feels the disturbance before he’s truly awake, hand closing around the blaster slipped under his pillow. His hand closes around it as he sits up, eyes squinting in the dark. There’s a figure hovering over him, almost close enough to be touching the couch with their legs. He blinks away the sleep in his brain, picking out your face in the minimal light coming in through the window. 

He says your name quietly, brows furrowing as he stares at you. Your gaze isn’t on him, instead focused off in the kitchen. He glances in that direction, half expecting someone, or something, to be standing there, but there’s no one. 

He turns back to you, slipping his blaster back under the pillow. His hand reaches out to touch your arm, fingers just grazing your skin. You blink, letting out a gasp before you’re stumbling back a couple steps. His hand closes around your arm instinctively, keeping you from falling backwards. 

You’re breathing heavily, staring down at him with wide eyes. “Crosshair?” You seem equally as confused as he is. “Oh, kriff.” You breathe, drawing your arm from his hold.

He lets you go, swinging his legs off the couch. “Are you alright?” 

You nod, rubbing your face with your hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” You let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I-I didn’t think...I must have been sleeping really hard.” 

“Sit.” He says, and you do as you're told, dropping onto the couch as you stare at him with wide eyes. “Care to explain?” 

“I sleepwalk sometimes.” You say quickly, as if you had been waiting for him to ask. You’d likely have told him anyway. “I either can’t sleep, or I sleep too deeply and wind up halfway across the island. It’s happened a few times since I arrived. One night I woke up on the street.” You shake your head. “That night was weird because I could swear someone else was out there with me.” 

So that’s what that had been. You had been sleepwalking the night he followed you. That explained the phantom-like way you seemed to float along the street, and the startled look on your face when you’d finally turned around. Your subconscious mind had recognized his presence and had pulled you from sleep. 

He’s tempted to tell you, tempted to reveal your instincts had been correct and someone had been following you. Someone had been with you. He’s afraid of scaring you away. He’s finally gotten you close, finally gotten your trust. He can’t ruin that now. Pushing you away, even unintentionally, could be a risk. You could revert back to those ugly habits that were a threat to you and your survival. 

He can’t risk that. 

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I really am sorry. I can’t control it. It just...happens. Sometimes...sometimes I act out my nightmares. I think my body tries to escape the horrors in my head and I wind up outside somehow.” 

“Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.” He says, cutting off your rambling. 

“Sorry.” You say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You should go back to bed.” 

“I’m not sure I’ll sleep again tonight.” You say. “Not after this.” 

He hums, watching you for a moment before he grabs the datapad, pulling up holovids on the screen. He likely won’t sleep either, not after that startling disturbance. Not with the worry that you might fall asleep and sleepwalk into someone else’s room, someone with not as sharp a gaze. Someone who might shoot first out of instinct. 

Perhaps having you stay was a risk after all.

***

Sleep begins to evade him once more. The nightmares return, the endless images of the horrors he’s endured. Gone is your face, gone is the peace he had been feeling. He continues to walk, not out of routine but out of necessity. The need to shake off the cold, the wet, the screams, the visions of things he’s done, things he’s witnessed, things he wasn’t able to stop, things he wasn’t able to prevent. 

He finds you one night during his walks, late in the evening. The stars are out, the moon casting a cold glow across the water. You’re seated on the edge of a wall, legs dangling over the side. The horrifying memory of you leaning over the side, body preparing to fling itself over the side flashing through his mind. He picks up his pace, his steps echoing in the quiet of the night. 

You turn to look at him as he approaches, squinting in the darkness before he’s close enough for you to see. You relax a bit, hands dropping to curl around the edge of the wall. “Crosshair.” 

“What are you doing?” He asks, attempting to keep the panic he’s feeling from his voice but he sounds hurried, frantic almost. His eyes glance down the other side of the wall, down to the houses below. The fall won’t kill you, not unless you land on your head. It would hurt though, and you would need immediate medical care. 

“I can’t sleep.” You say, either not noticing or choosing to ignore his nervous demeanor. 

You do look tired, more tired than you have lately. The dark, swollen circles are back. Your face looks pallored in the moonlight, thinner than it has been looking recently. The nightmares are plaguing you again, he thinks. He wonders what they are. The droid army? The pirates? Both? 

You huff out a laugh, turning your gaze back to the sea in the distance. “They’re back again, those thoughts. The droids breaking in, the pirates. There’s nothing I can do. I have to let it happen.” 

He leans against the wall, his gaze even with yours. “Can you shoot?” 

You blink at him. “What?” 

“Can you shoot a blaster?” He repeats the question more clearly. 

You shake your head. “Never needed to.” 

His mind reels. You’re far more vulnerable than he thought. He had overlooked the fact you had no protection aside from the fact you were alone. Of course, had you had a blaster that night, things may have ended worse. Though with your new sobriety, perhaps he could help you feel a little safer. 

“Meet me on the North side of the island tomorrow, near the beach.” He says. “After lunch.” 

You frown at his words. The North side of the island has yet to be rebuilt after the tsunami that had wiped out the lower levels. The South side was in the process of being rebuilt, but the North side was still rubble and devastation. Many of the inhabitants spent their time after lunch lazing around and napping. It was the perfect place, and the perfect time for what he had planned. 

“Okay.” You say quietly. You were so trusting of him, or perhaps you were so desperate you were willing to do anything with a promise of possibly helping you. 

Crosshair hopes this will help. He hopes he’s not making a big mistake. 

***

He’s almost surprised to see you sitting on a rock as he approaches the beach. He had thought maybe you’d forget, or you’d talk yourself out of coming. You look up as he approaches, the look on your face softening just a bit as you see him before it falls into a frown. 

“What’s that?” You ask, noticing the crate in his hands. 

He sets his weapons kit on the rock next to you, opening it up. They kept most of their weapons on the Marauder now, only a blaster and Hunter’s knives in the house for emergencies. They have yet to use them, and he’s missed using his rifle, utilizing his skills. 

Your eyes widen a bit as you stare down at his rifle. “Oh.” You say simply, putting two and two together. 

He grabs the targets, moving away from you to set them up closer than he normally would. He’s going to teach you to fire a blaster, not become a sharpshooter. He simply wants you to know how to protect yourself should you ever need to. He draws one of their spare blasters from his holster, a smaller one that would be most comfortable for you. 

He shows you the blaster, how to take it apart, where the safety is, before he moves onto how to hold it. You’re nervous, he can tell just by the squaring of your shoulders, the tenseness in them as you hold the weapon. There’s a subtle shake to your hands as you lift it for the first time, pointing it at one of the targets. 

You’ll miss far to the right if you fire like that, a small smile forming on his face. Shooting had come natural to him and his brothers after extensive training, the first time they’d held blasters had felt like they’d always been there. It had been second nature to him and his brothers. He’s never taught a nat-born to fire before. 

“Relax.” He says, putting his hands on your shoulders. You tense more under his touch, muscles tightening in response. 

He wonders how long it’s been since you had any sort of physical contact that wasn’t necessary. His brothers were incessant with their physical affection, Wrecker especially. Hunter had held him more than once as his nightmares pulled him from sleep, threatening to swallow him whole. 

Your body slowly begins to relax under his touch, the tension in your shoulders easing until they’ve relaxed. He fixes the position of your arms, aiming your body so you’ll hit the target. 

He takes a step back, taking one last glance at your posture. “Breathe out, and squeeze the trigger.” 

You stand there for a moment, almost frozen in time before you fire, the recoil sending you back a step in surprise. You hit the edge of the target, not a bullseye but still a hit. “I hit it!” You say, looking at him wide eyed with a smile on your face. 

He can’t help the amused look that crosses his face. “Not bad.” He helps you back into position, checking your grip on the blaster. “For beginners luck.” 

You scoff. “Maybe I’m just a natural.” 

He rolls his eyes, stepping back. “Keep practicing.” 

You continue firing, hitting various places on the target, and occasionally missing. He makes small adjustments, but overall you’re not as bad as he expected. He pulls his rifle from his kit, missing the feeling of having her in his hands. He holds her for a moment, watching you shoot before he steps up next to you, firing three times in quick succession. He hits each target dead center. He still hasn’t lost his touch. 

He turns to face you, your mouth open as you stare at him. “Well that’s just showing off.” You huff. 

“I have far more practice than you.” He says. “This used to be my job.” 

“I can’t even imagine what it was like.” You say. “You must have seen things like I did all the time.” 

“Not really.” He says, putting his rifle back in the case. “Devoth was one of the worst tragedies of the war. Our squad went on more...specialized missions. We were rarely in the heat of big battles. Even other clones that saw bigger battles didn’t see things like Devoth.” 

You step closer to him, holding the blaster in your hands still. “Well, maybe I don’t feel so bad about having nightmares.” 

He turns to face you, resisting the urge to stare at you in disbelief. “You shouldn’t. We were trained for war from the moment we were old enough to walk.  We were designed to be the most efficient we possibly could on the battlefield. Everything we did was meant to prepare us for battle. Still, even we get nightmares. You were a civilian, dragged into a war you had no part of. Your planet was destroyed and you survived by a miracle. I would be more concerned if you weren’t having nightmares.” 

You stare at him for an uncomfortable length of time. He wishes he could see inside your head, follow the path of your thoughts, just see any hint as to what you’re thinking. He wants to know you inside and out, he wants to see exactly what makes you...you. 

“I think that’s the most words you’ve ever said to me at one time.” You finally say, a grin spreading across your face. 

His eyes narrow as he snaps his weapons kit closed. You like to joke, and he hates that it doesn’t annoy him. It’s amusing, such a contrast to the pain that resides within you. Perhaps that was your coping mechanism, the way you hid the pain from those that sought to unwrap the carefully placed barriers. 

“Here.” You hold out the blaster. 

“Keep it.” He says, tucking his weapons kit under his arm.

“What?” You blink at him in confusion, still holding the blaster out. 

“Keep it.” He repeats. 

You blink at him again before your hand slowly lowers to your side. 

“Just don’t go shooting anyone in your sleep.” 

***

The pattern of your continued presence at their house continues as the weeks pass. You’re at their door regularly at varying times of the day, for varying reasons. You’ve begun to stay the night more and more. Often you were there so late you wound up staying, Crosshair offering up his bed every time, though you didn’t always sleep. More often than not the two of you sat awake on the couch, sitting in silence or quietly watching holovids. 

It’s after one of your overnight stays that Omega gets the idea. You’ve been spending so much time at their house, they should just make a room for you. They have a spare closet they don’t keep much in, thanks to most of their belongings remaining on the Marauder. It wouldn’t be hard to turn into a makeshift room for the nights you stayed too late to safely walk home. 

The nights that were becoming more and more frequent. 

They do just that, Crosshair putting the furniture together while Omega decorates. She wanted it to be comfortable, like a home away from home. 

Crosshair is going to owe her a sizable debt by the time she’s old enough to understand just how much she’s been helping him. 

He feels strangely excited to reveal their creation to you. He can hardly wait until your next visit. He wants to know what your reaction will be, how you’ll respond to such a bold move, a step outside your comfort zone. He’s thrilled at the prospect of having an excuse to keep you close, to be able to watch you and ensure you’re safe and you haven’t fallen back on your old ways. 

You’ve improved exponentially with your integration into their lives. He knows it has to do with the fact you’re no longer alone. Daytime didn’t make one immune to those thoughts, and he knows isolation, even unintentional as yours was, would only make it worse. That was why Hunter insisted on his frequent socialization, even though he’d rather do many uncomfortable things than spend time in a group of people. 

Your presence in the house has also taken the attention off him a bit. Though the others had kept the fact they knew about you and your nightmares a secret, that didn’t stop them from worrying. They’ve come to care about you, almost as much as he has. He’s glad to have a bit of space to breathe, even if it came at your expense. 

You arrive the next day late in the afternoon, looking no less well rested than before. Sometimes you look more alive, like life has been breathed back into you. Other times you’re a mirror of the ghost he saw that first night he followed you. He can tell when you’ve been sleeping and when you haven’t. 

His blaster had helped when he first gave it to you. You came looking more well rested than usual. It hadn’t lasted long, however, and you began to degrade back into the ghost once more. He continued training you to use it, your shots becoming more and more accurate. You didn’t need to be a sharpshooter, but the more accurate you were, the easier he could sleep at night knowing you could take care of yourself in a bind. 

Not that you were in any danger on Pabu. If you believed you could fight, though, you may stand a better chance of getting some rest. Perhaps the nightmares might finally be put to an end. 

Hunter lets you in, Crosshair noticing the way your feet seem to drag a bit as you walk. Your shoulders are slumped, exhaustion weighing heavily on you today. He’s glad they built you a room. Perhaps tonight you can get some decent sleep. 

Omega greets you with a shout of your name as she always does, slinging her arms around you. She nearly knocks you off your feet, your reflexes delayed by your exhaustion. 

Crosshair is tempted to put you to bed immediately. 

“We have a surprise to show you.” Omega says, taking your hand. 

“Oh?” You lift a brow, glancing between him and the kid. 

“Come on.” Omega says, dragging you down the hall towards Crosshair’s room. 

It was an added bonus that the closet was right next to his room. 

Omega opens the door, leading you inside. “We made you your own room.” 

You enter slowly, looking around. It’s a small space, but with it simply being for you to sleep in, you didn’t need much. Omega had picked the string lights herself, giving the room a soft glow. 

“I had the idea, and I decorated.” Omega says as you look around the room, tears shining in your eyes. “Crosshair put the furniture together. We wanted you to have somewhere comfortable to sleep when you stay over. This way you won’t have to keep stealing Crosshair’s bed.”

You wipe a tear as it falls, still looking around the room. “This...this is too much, I don’t-” 

“You’re part of our family now.” Omega says, taking your hand. “You need your own space so you won’t have to sleep in Crosshair’s stinky sheets.” 

“My sheets do not smell.” Crosshair says, mildly offended. He changes them religiously. 

“It’s perfect.” You say, pulling Omega into a hug. “Thank you. Both of you.” You release Omega, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I guess this means I’m staying tonight, huh?” 

“Only if you want to.” Omega says. 

“Well, I don’t want to put this hard work to waste.” 

Omega cheers, pulling you from the room so she can subject you to whatever activity she had planned for you to do. 

***

The night ends as it usually does, with you and Crosshair on the couch, watching a holofilm. Hunter had gotten up to take Omega to bed, and you were half asleep wrapped in a blanket, laid out on the couch. Crosshair had gotten up to use the fresher, stepping away for only a moment.

Hunter’s the closest when it happens, having turned off the screen as the credits rolled in the movie. Crosshair was just entering the room, his sharp eyes the only reason he caught what happened. 

You begin violently tossing and turning, your body flailing, flipping off the side of the couch. Hunter is there before Crosshair can reach you, putting a hand on your shoulder to stop you from getting up, from trying to run, from doing something that might hurt you or someone else in your confusion. 

“It’s alright.” He speaks quietly. “You’re safe here.” 

Tears are trailing down your cheeks, breaths coming in gasps as you stare up at him. Crosshair moves closer, hearing your stuttering inhale as your body fights to regulate itself. 

“Easy.” Hunter says, rubbing your back. 

You take a couple deep breaths, pressing your palms into your eyes. Crosshair’s never seen you wake from a nightmare. Not the immediate reactions right after. He’s seen you after sleepwalking, he’s seen you drunk, he’s seen you after a decent rest. How broken you look, how scared, how shattered you seem sitting on the living room floor makes his heart ache for you. 

“You’re alright. Nothing’s coming through that door. Not on our watch.” Hunter says. 

You don’t question why or how he knows, perhaps because you’re not entirely aware still. Hunter shifts to the side, allowing Crosshair space to kneel in front of you. You stare up at him with such sad eyes, such a broken gaze. He wishes he could find all the pieces and glue you back together, if only to ease the ache he knows you have to feel. He had been lucky, having others there to piece him back together, even if there were still pieces missing. 

You’ve been broken for so long, he’s not entirely sure you have any pieces left. All of those have been shattered as well. Crosshair is determined, though. Even if he has to go shard by shard, he will put together as many of those pieces as he can. Until his fingers bleed and he’s sticky with glue, he’s going to put you back together. 

***

You’re reclined on the couch in your usual spot. It’s close to dinner, everyone in limbo as they wait for Tech and Phee to arrive. Phee had left a few days ago on a treasure hunt, and was supposed to be returning today. Tech had gone to greet her, everyone else anxiously awaiting the stories she was no doubt going to have to share. 

The door slides open, Omega running to greet Tech and Phee. Omega loved Phee’s stories and never grew tired of them, even the ones she could probably tell just as well as her. Phee greets Omega, setting her bag down before making a beeline for you on the couch. 

“I’ve got some good news, sweetcheeks.” Phee says, dropping a datapad in your lap, startling you. “I was doing some digging, and I overheard some news. Devoth is rebuilding.” 

You blink at the datapad, brain trying to catch up to the sudden arrival and news. “What?” 

“Some survivors have been working to rebuild the capital city for the last two years. They’re welcoming anyone who wants to relocate or help, but they’re especially looking for natives to return, if there’s any out there.” Phee pats your shoulder. “Thought you might like to know.” 

You stare at the datapad in your lap still in shock. Crosshair feels his entire body beginning to tense, his heart pounding in his chest. Survivors on Devoth were trying to rebuild. You could go home. You could return to the planet you knew, the place you knew. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be closer to home than you’ve been in almost two years. Perhaps the nightmares could finally be put to an end, you could finally heal, finally get back to that person he saw sitting in the sun all those months ago. 

Would you want to return?

Something twists deep within Crosshair’s stomach as he sees the tears in your eyes. You’re gazing at the datapad longingly, at the photos of your home being rebuilt. You could go home. You could be happy again. It’s right at your fingertips. Phee would take you without hesitation. You could pack a bag and leave tonight. 

He’d never see you again. 

He feels sick to his stomach. His hands are shaking as he slips out of the room silently, making for his bedroom. Tears fill his vision, devastation bubbling over, threatening to fill the place behind his walls that had been slowly rebuilding. The relief, the happiness he’s felt since you came into his life has been shattered. It’s all over. His chance at something more than what he was made for, his chance at a life he didn’t deserve, gone. It was taken from him just as quickly as so many other things had. His free will, his brothers, Mayday. They had all slipped through his fingers like the sand on the beach. 

You’re going to slip through his fingers too. 

There was never a chance. He was foolish to even think it, to think you might be happy here. To think he might be enough to make you happy. 

His door opens and he can’t turn around. He doesn’t need to. There was only one person that would so willingly encroach his sacred space, who would confront him so bravely in such a state. 

Hunter’s hands are turning him, his body folding, sinking, crumbling. Hunter catches him, wrapping his arms around him like he did that first night after his rescue, when Crosshair had done nothing but cry and babble unintelligible apologies. 

Perhaps he had been the statue all along, slowly crumbling. He had been the phantom, wandering with nothing but an impossible hope. 

Taglist:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @anxiouspineapple99 @clonemedickix @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @blueink-bluesoul @starrylothcat @523rdrebel

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #x reader

[acetone4veins]

Mean Girls + Quotes Part 2

Find part 1 here

More quotes that remind me of mean girls characters and their various relationships :)

Regina

"i became bitter and untouchable. i craved affection but even the mere thought of someone caring made my stomach turn."

unknown

"i have survived everything but i fear that i cannot survive myself."

Cynthia Chapman

"was i raised without love? or was i born unlovable?"

unknown

"am i lonely because no one cares, or am i lonely because i'm not strong enough to let anyone get close enough to care?"

Rob Hill Sr.

"of course i look angry all the time. my entire life i've been fighting a war. i am soaked in pain and sadness. the irony however, is that i'm not actually angry, i'm trying to learn how to be happy. and that in itself is a war."

unknown

Cady

"i thought - i want to go home. i want to be in a place that feels like home. where that was, i did not know."

Katie Kitamura

"i understood myself only after i destroyed myself. and only in the process of fixing myself did i know who i really was."

Sade Andria Zabala

“do you ever wonder where you took a wrong turn? where your life became the exact opposite of what you wanted it to be?”

unknown

"i have always tried to make a home for myself, but i have not felt at home in myself."

Jeanette Winterson

Janis

"of course i'm angry. do you have any idea how many times someone should have helped me?"

unknown

"hurt an artist and you'll see masterpieces of what you've done."

unknown

"i don't feel guilt at being unsociable, though i may sometimes regret it because my loneliness is painful."

Susan Sontag

Gretchen

"what a sick little head, your love always turns into obsession."

unknown

"i don't think people love me. they love versions of me i have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. the easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love."

unknown

“i only know how to exist when i’m wanted.”

Mary Lambert

"i don't want to beg. i know you can feel it, my longing, the aching, my need for love. i don't want to beg. but oh god - oh god, please. please. love me. love me."

unknown

"for once i need to choose myself, or else i'm going to lose myself."

Veronika Jensen

Karen

“i believe in some blending of hope and sunshine sweetening the worst lots. i believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. i believe while i tremble; i trust while i weep.”

Charlotte Brontë

Regina and Janis

"longing, how soft a word for such a ravenous feeling. how we hunger in silence."

Pavana

"dig your teeth into me. come on, i dare you. take a bite. open me up; raw and candy floss pink on the inside. make it hurt. i figure, you're going to hurt me one way or another. might as well be with your mouth."

Ashe Vernon

"i don't know what to do without you, i don't know where to put my hands."

unknown

"you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love."

Franz Kafka

"i love you and i always will and i am sorry. what a useless word."

Ernest Hemingway

Regina and Cady

"i love you. i love you unconditionally. i loved you even in my ignorance. i loved you when i didn't even know. i just love you."

unknown

"and on some days, i wish our paths had never crossed because you don't know how heartbreaking it is to know that someone like you exists in this world and i cannot have you."

unknown

“i must have you exclusively, fiercely, possessively.”

Henry Miller

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do."

William C. Hannan

“fuck my pride. fuck everything. i’m so desperately hungry for you.”

Henry Miller

Gretchen and Karen

"the way our fingers intertwine feels so natural and right; as if our hands hold memories of meeting in a thousand other lifetimes."

John Mark Green

"when i think of life, i think of you. when i think of love, i think of you. safe to say that i really like thinking about life with you."

unknown

"come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can't just stand on it."

Dino Ahmetovic

Regina and Gretchen

"i suffer in my loving, and you know it."

Willa Cather

"i loved you to the point of ruin. i loved you until my lungs were filled with ash."

Tina Tran

#managed to make this shorter than part 1 #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls musical #regina george #cady heron #janis imi'ike #janis sarkisian #janis ian #regina x janis #renee rapp #cadina #rejanis #reneé rapp #fetchen #regina x cady #karen x gretchen #gretchen wieners #karen shetty #karen smith #regina x gretchen

[yesimwriting]

Spiderverse huh 👀 how uh

How do you feel about spider-punk 👁️👁️

a/n ohhh he's so boyfriend idc, but i feel like in an accidental way?? like his official stance would be something like 'defined relationships mainly exist in order to further consumerism and marriage is just a way for the government to be more involved in daily lives, etc'

and he'd probably also say he doesn't like consistency so he doesn't believe in dating, but the second he has a crush on someone he's so done for,, like if anyone asks about the person he likes he'll be like wdym??? we're literally married? but to the actual person he'd do nice things but pretend it has nothing to do with them lmao

i feel like he'd be so supportive too, like you could do anything and he'd be like wow, amazing, show stopping, what a way to fight against the establishment!!

anyways here's a little blurb bc i love him (in this one, the reader works in the news world, nothing too specific, just that they have a camera and a reason to go out of their way to risk their safety to take pictures of an active villain attack/crime)

warnings: me writing a character for the first time (so potentially a little ooc), a person that knows nothing about british people writing a british character, mutually pining besties

----

The whole thing had been an abrupt burst of chaos, and what no one ever talks about when it comes to any type of sudden disaster is the aftermath. Adrenaline starts to dwindle and you're forced to take in and process what happened.

You force yourself to breathe slowly as you examine your surroundings. The building across the street from you has sustained some major damage, but everything else still seems stable. Everyone you can see looks like they're safe and in the distance you can hear sirens. First responders are already making their way to the scene. That's a good sign, yet you can't bring yourself to feel relieved.

Not until a familiar blur of motion catches the corner of your eye. You step back, furthering yourself from the edge of the rooftop to give him some space. Knowing that he's okay enough to be swinging like that eases that tension in your chest. A fact he can never know because of how you ended up on this rooftop. So instead of smiling and greeting him the way you normally would, you cross your arms and keep your expression steady.

"Everythin' alright up here?" He keeps his tone casual, a subtle reminder that your best friend isn't your best friend right now.

You tilt your head, giving him a pointed look. You want to be as mad as you were at first, but seeing that he's uninjured always makes you lose any edge. He doesn't look like he's been hit or injured and he's standing in a way that doesn't favor a particular side of his body more than the other. He is, however, making a point of keeping an arm behind his back. Because he doesn't seem to be in any notable pain, you decide that your questions should wait until later, when you're somewhere where you can be concerned openly.

"Everything was alright on the ground." You lift the camera that's hanging from the strap around your neck. "...When I was doing my job."

He takes a step towards you, angling his head downwards and lowering his voice like someone might hear you even though you're stories above the people attempting to get through the aftermath of the incident. "You got plenty of photos before...I checked."

The last part is tacked on almost sheepishly, like there's something embarrassing about the admission. It takes you a second to get why. You didn't see him before he swung onto the scene, all business and not in the mood to even hear your justification for staying close to the action. That means your abrupt kidnapping relocation wasn't as sudden and unreasonable to him. He didn't just pluck you from the ground and place you on a rooftop he deemed safe enough at the first sign of increasing trouble. He had trusted you to take care of yourself until things escalated.

You fight to not soften. "Still." Tilting your chin up in an attempt to appear stern, you speak slowly. "You could've asked."

He sighs, shaking his head. "You would've said no."

"Yeah, and I would've been entitled to," you mumble, arms finally relaxing. "But...thanks." The second he pulled you away, the wall to the building you were standing closest to crumbled. Maybe you should give Hobie some credit for that.

"Y'know there was a barricade, and the authorities were saying somethin' about no press."

Ah. You knew he'd bring it up eventually. "I um--didn't notice."

He takes a step forward. "Didn't notice?"

"No, I was...busy."

"Doin' what?" He angles his head to one side and you're struck with the feeling that he finds this a lot more entertaining than you want him to.

You sigh. "Sneaking in through the back alley."

He lets out a breath that's suspiciously close to a laugh. You can picture his smile. "Atta girl, ignoring the regulations of a bureaucratic system that wants to keep the truth from the people."

A part of you is pleasantly surprised that he didn't take the opportunity to poke fun at what could be interpreted as a bit of hypocrisy. From time to time you like to gently remind him that nothing bad will happen if he doesn't go out of his way to break a rule because sometimes it's risky, especially with a secret identity. His response is always something along the lines of where's the fun in that?

"So I should have stayed down there?"

He pauses, not liking the turn this conversation is taking. Of course you can handle yourself and a bit of justified rebellion would never cause you any harm, but he can't exactly Spider-Man to the best of his ability with you there. It makes his attention drift back to you, to make sure you're okay. Was stranding you on a roof top the best solution? Maybe not, but you're stubborn and he had to act quickly. Besides, you never take these news reporting spats too seriously.

The corner of your mouth turns up, happy that you're winning this one. "You're sending mixed messages."

"You know how I feel about consistency."

You're about to say something else, a half thought out joke that never gets to develop because a nerve-inducing shout steals the moment. Your head snaps forward and so does Hobie's. "You're gonna have to..."

"Yep." He's approaching the edge the roof, but before he can leap off and into action, he turns. "Oh--before I forget--"

Hobie extends the arm that was tucked behind his back. He's holding something shielded by slightly crumpled, waxy paper. After a second, you realize the mesh of colors peaking out from it are flowers. Some of the stems making up the outer part of the arrangement are slightly bend and a few of the longer pieces have lost their petals. That does nothing to take away from how delicate they look. Your eyes grow wide at the gesture.

you reach out for them almost dumbly, "You got me these?"

He lets you take the bouquet, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his suit. "I uh--yeah." You grin as he clears his throat. "Snagged 'em from that soulless, corporate shop that drove out the last of the good ones. Thought they earned a bit of trouble and these reminded me of you."

Aw. He makes it so hard to be mad at him over abandoning you on a random roof when he does things like this. You look down at the flowers, smoothing out the edges of the paper they're wrapped in.

"They're a little outta shape, I co--"

"No," you shake your head, pulling the flowers towards you defensively, like he was trying to snatch them away, "They're mine and I love them, back off."

He holds his hands up in defense, "Alright, love, no one's taking 'em."

Your smile grows even fonder. "Good."

Another concerning yell reaches the two of you. "Gotta go."

"Wait!" He turns his head, but keeps moving towards the edge. "How am I supposed to get down? You webbed the door shut."

"I did do that," he pauses, but another loud yell echoes around the two of you before he can do anything. "I'll come back!"

"Don't--!" It is so hard to not call out his name sometimes.

He jumps, swinging away, "I'll make it up to you!"

You roll your eyes, adjusting your hold on the flowers. "Yeah," you mumble, knowing there's no way he can still hear you, "You better."

It doesn’t matter anyways, he always does.

----

a/n this was really fun to write! so if you like this and want more spider punk or spiderverse from me, feel free to send an ask

#hobie brown x reaer #hobie brown x you #bobie x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #hobie brown drabble #spiderverse #spiderverse x reader

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Reader

Part Three - Pop’s Approval

Posted: 13/03/23 Edited: 19/07/23

Throwing the bags in the boot and hopping onto the passenger seat next to your chauffeur, Rachel smiled as she pulled away from the stadium with her hand on your thigh giving you butterflies. Linking your fingers in hers you bought her hand up to your mouth to kiss it “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever felt yknow” you bravely admitted to your crush, “me too..” she said thoughtfully, eyes never faltering from the road. “You literally won the Euros last year!” you exclaimed, “never underestimate the power of an orgasm (y/n/n)” she laughed. You turned the radio on and S Club 7 started to play which made you look at her, judging her for the choice in pre game music. “What?! You love it!” her voice higher than usual. “Yeah I can’t deny I was a huge S Club fan when I was younger” you admitted, looking at the back of the CD case that was bringing back memories. “How old are you?” she asked worryingly, realising she has no idea who she just slept with. “30, don’t panic hun” you laughed. “Oh thank god” she sighed, relieved that she can continue whatever this is with you. Secretly you’d already fallen hard for her and knew whatever happens next could break your heart into a million pieces but you didn’t want to miss your chance with her by sharing your true feelings. You’d known about her a lot longer than she’s known you existed. You’ve read her Wikipedia and scrolled her Instagram for hours and hours - you can’t tell her that though as she might get the ick. You told yourself to enjoy your time together for what it was and not to get ahead of yourself. You’ve just had the girl of your dreams wrapped around you in the Wembley showers and now she’s taking you to dinner! It’s hard to believe this has happened and you’re still expecting to wake up at any moment.

“What you thinking about?” Rachel quizzed as you stumbled to not tell her the truth. “How out of 90,000 people you gave your shirt to me?” your quick thinking saved you. “You threw the ball to me in the first half remember, I couldn’t stop thinking about you for the rest of the game, you made me want to do better and work harder, I scored because I was trying to impress you” she said quietly and a little embarrassed at how keen she was coming across. “You score in nearly every game you play Rachel” you said raising an eyebrow, not fully believing her. “This was different, I knew in my heart I had to talk to you at the end and giving you my shirt was Millie’s idea, I was praying you wouldn’t have left before I got to you” giggling at her admission and asking what she would of done if you had; she said she probably would have gone full on stalker mode and scoured Instagram until she found you. Which made you realise this was never a one time hook up for her, she hoped you’d still be there after the game, she worked harder to impress you, you don’t do those things for a one night stand… do you? Maybe she feels the same way you do.. That this thing we have, for some reason or another feels bigger than us, even though you only met a few hours ago.

Realising it was quiet you asked her what she was thinking about. Rachel paused in thought for a second before responding shyly “I feel like that was more than just sex, it felt like what making love would feel like”. Your heart skipped a beat as you smiled at her “I feel the same way… that definitely was more than just sex, it was passion and desire and otherworldly!” you exclaimed “that’s the word, otherworldly! Just out of this world mind blowing passion. I’ve never felt that way before, I could never figure out what was wrong with me, I could never seem to finish with anyone so I just became dominant and lied that I prefer giving than taking so I’d make them finish and then they’re too exhausted to even try with me.” Rachel shocked herself with how open and honest she was being with you, “that’s actually really quite sad Rachy” you pawed, feeling sorry for the blonde that nobody had been able to figure her out sexually. “Aww, when people call me Rachy it just makes me want to melt!” she swooned. “But that’s why it felt like more than just sex, you turned my dominance around and enabled me to feel submissive but safe at the same time, like I wanted to give my whole body to you. I’ve never felt so safe with someone when being intimate before and I can’t stop thinking about it” she reminisced with her breath getting flustered again. “I could tell in your eyes that it wasn’t just lust, the look in your eyes made me fall for you in that moment. Especially how you acted after, that was just pure kindness and I need some of that in my life, someone to look after me. You just made me feel so safe” she repeated.

“Well that was honestly the most intimate experience I’ve ever had. Your face makes me feel so happy inside, I just want to stare into your eyes all night” you admitted as she pulled up outside the restaurant. “Stay with me tonight?” she asked turning her body to face you. “Bet nobody says no to that!” you remarked cheekily as you caught her staring at you jokingly fed up of that famous line of yours. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. It’s got to be an early one cause you have training tomorrow, what time is it?” “Why do I keep forgetting about training? It’s 10am” as she typed a reminder into her phone. “Because your whole brain has me on your mind right now, there’s no room for anything else” you winked at her. “Okay this meal will have to be quick then so I can get ready for tomorrow and get enough sleep” she said opening her door “I don’t have to stay if you think I’ll be a distraction” you offered hoping she wouldn’t take you up on it. “Err, I don’t think so love! I’m not ready to let you go yet, come on” she confirmed hopping out of the car. You quickly text your friends saying you won’t be coming home tonight with a winky face.

Rachel opened your door for you to jump out and as you walked towards the restaurant, she took your hand in hers which made you feel those butterflies again. Once inside a waiter came straight over asking if Rachel wanted her usual table, she must be a regular. The waiter lead you upstairs, then up more stairs to a platform which was like a treehouse with just one table lit by candlelight with a giant window that lead out on to a balcony. It was stunning but you couldn’t help but think that this was set up for whoever she brings in. Nevertheless, Rachel pulled your chair out for you and asked for the wine list. “I have to make a confession, I don’t drink wine, whiskey or nothing” Rachel raised her eyebrows seemingly impressed with your answer and asked for a JD and a Diet Coke for her. It was honestly such a turn on how she guessed your fave whiskey and didn’t order alcohol herself - driving and training tomorrow wouldn’t have been a good look.

Rachel held out her hands across the table for you to place yours in; this was the most romantic setting you’ve ever seen and just made your feelings stronger for her. She told you how she always came here with her family but when she started getting recognised people would interrupt their dinner to ask for photos. She felt bad saying no but she also didn’t like her family time being interrupted seeing as she didn’t get to see them very often, especially being away in Houston for so long. So she worked with the owner to build this little treehouse style area out of the way; they could continue coming and nobody would know they were there. This washed away your fears of thinking the table was ready for any girl she bought home each night. “Me and Millie come here often when I miss my dad, we sit looking at the stars and talk to him, he loved her, she’s the best friend I’ve ever had”. You smiled thinking of all the YouTube and TikTok videos you’ve watched of them together. “You two are bestie goals, everyone wishes they had a friendship like you two” squeezing her hands between yours, “she’s been with me through everything, she makes me feel strong and brave, I love her so much” the grin on her face only getting bigger when talking about her best friend, “that’s clear to see by everyone, the whole world knows you as Millie and Rachel, you’re never just Millie or just Rachel… like Dick and Dom or Ant and Dec” “Yeah she can be Dick!” she snorted making you both laugh.

When your drinks came Rachel asked if you wanted to go out on the balcony with her; she instinctively wrapped her coat around your shoulders and took your drinks outside. Being so far off the ground you felt like your could grab a pocketful of stars. In awe at the sight until Rachel took you on under her arm. “Which one’s dad?” you asked quietly, not knowing if she’d want to share something so personal but she took no time before answering, “all of them, he’s all around me, he is every star in the sky. I thought he’d want to meet you” she smiled as that caught you off guard, looking at her with admiration and touching your hand to your heart. “What’s his name?” “Martyn, pops, papa bear” leaning her head on your shoulder, it only felt right to introduce yourself seeing as she’d purposely bought you here. “Hi Martyn!” raising your glass to the sky, “I’m (y/n). I met your daughter today” placing your arm around her back “I just want to say how utterly besotted I am with her already. She won against USA today, scored as well! I think this makes England world champions now?” you chuckled while your eyes flickered onto your lady for the night. “Thanks for raising such an amazing, kind and beautiful woman, I’ll do my best to make her happy as long as she’ll let me” lowering your arm and taking a sip of your whiskey which seemed extra strong and made you screw your face up. Rachel laughed and wrapped her arms tightly around your waist “utterly besotted?” she asked looking up at you, tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her face as you reiterated - “utterly. besotted. yes” gazing into her beautiful blue eyes and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Is that alright?” Rachel rested her head on your chest and nodded, squeezing you tighter before reaching up to kiss you. The kiss was gentle and loving and made you feel warm and fuzzy. “I can’t stop smiling” you admitted “me neither” she replied between kisses. You now had confirmation, even if neither of you have said it, you knew this was the start of something special.

Your meals arrived, you left a nice tip then headed out. Rachel drove back to her house with her hand quite high up on your thigh which turned you on as she knew you weren’t wearing any underwear. You looked at your phone to see a whole bunch of messages from your friends asking what’s been happening, it was too much to explain by text so you made them wait for updates. Pulling into the driveway, Rachel got the bags out and opened your door again before ushering you into the house. It was warm and cozy but you couldn’t help thinking how lonely it would be to live somewhere by yourself. At this point it was 8pm, Rachel put the kettle on and you reminded her to pack her bags for tomorrow which she did while you made the teas. She then gave you a tour of the house and settled on the sofa with your drinks happily in the silence, soaking up the eventful day. 6 hours ago you were merely watching your favourite team play at Wembley and 6 hours later you’ve made love to your favourite player, met her dad and now sitting in her lounge preparing to go to bed with her. What a crazy wild ride today has been, but you couldn’t be happier.

“I hope you have PJs for me to wear!” She smiled, leading you upstairs to her closet to give you options, you said you’d rather just a big T-shirt and some dry pants. She dug out her ‘Nike Home’ T-shirt from the Euro win for you to put on and found some comfy underwear for you then snuggled up in bed together with the rest of your tea. “Let me take a photo of us, the first night together” could she be anymore cute?! You have to admit the photo was super adorable, “you’ll have to send that to me so my friends believe me” you joked. She shared it, you sent it to your friends and she sent it to Millie - we both know you can’t keep your besties out of the loop. They all replied immediately - yours were freaking out, this was a big deal after all, Millie was more subtle with “you two suit each other soooo much, cuties 💙” then a follow up of “don’t be late tomorrow! 10am remember!” You set alarms for 8am and snuggled down to sleep. You found it hard to drift off at first as you didn’t want to snore or get in an ugly position that made her want to run a mile, that was until you felt her lips touch your forehead and instantly felt safe and sleepy.

Part Four - Part of the Team

#lionesses #rachel daly #rachel daly x reader #millie bright #woso masterlist #woso x reader

[astorytotellyourfriends]

maybe one day, we'll trade places

since ao3 is still under attack i thought maybe i'd share the first ~600 words of a fic i started back in march and i've been working on in fits and starts ever since. i have no idea when i'll finish it but this is possibly the closest i'll ever get to writing something in s4 canon so... enjoy!

The sky looks the same. That's the first thing that comes to mind when Eddie opens his eyes and the world comes into focus once more. It's dark and hazy; ripples of lightning crack across his vision, rolling thunder echoing after every one.

It's still the Upside-Down. At least, that's what it seems like.

Eddie starts to sit up, expecting unbelievable pain to shoot throughout his body the moment he moves, but it never comes. He grabs at his clothing, finding the holes that the demobats tore through the fabric to get to him - to his flesh and organs - but he finds no wounds. No blood.

Nothing makes any sense. Eddie thought there couldn't possibly be a way for life to make even less sense than it did a few days ago when Chrissy levitated up to his ceiling and cracked like a glowstick in front of his very eyes, but maybe he was wrong.

Or maybe this isn't life anymore. Maybe it's death.

Eddie swallows hard as he draws in a deep breath. His lungs still work, as far as he can tell. He presses his hand against his chest and feels his heartbeat racing. How can he be alive and dead at the same time?

If he's here - wherever here is - then where's everyone else? He looks around and finds nothing but a wasteland. There's no trace of his trailer, no trace of Hawkins at all. It's all gone.

Did they win? Did the others defeat Vecna? Is Eddie stuck in some sort of purgatory as penance for not doing enough when he was alive? For running away when—

He shuts his eyes and draws his knees to his chest, holding them tightly as he shakes. He tried to do the right thing. He tried to help, he tried to make things right, he tried. If he couldn't bring Chrissy back, the least he could do was sacrifice himself so that the others had a fucking chance.

But maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe they're all stuck in the same sort of place he is. If they are, all Eddie can do is hope they're not alone.

When Eddie finally deigns to lift his head, to open his eyes again and look around once more, he sees a shape in the distance. He squints, unable to make it out from so far away. He pulls himself up from the ground and glances around as though there might be someone watching him from afar.

But there's nowhere for anyone to hide. If there were anyone around, Eddie would see them. He's alone and he knows it.

With a slow breath, Eddie starts walking towards the shape in the distance. For a while, it doesn't seem like it's getting any closer. He walks and walks, expecting for something to change. Something to happen.

Time passes, or at least he thinks it does. Does time even exist in this place? If this is purgatory then wouldn't it be everlasting? He checks his watch but the electronic face is blank, only adding to his frustration and leading him to rip it from his wrist and toss it aside.

Eddie stops short after his watch hits the ground. It clatters and then vanishes before his eyes, only to reappear on his wrist a moment later.

"Okay," he says aloud, hardly even noticing the crack in his voice as he twists his arm around. The watch remains right where it was before he took it off, and Eddie chalks it up to more Upside-Down fuckery he wasn't aware of before.

It doesn't settle the part of himself that keeps wondering am I dead, but Eddie's fairly certain that there's little that could at this point. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter. He doesn't see a way out of here.

#hellcheer #eddissy #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic

[bullet-prooflove]

Hourglass: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc @sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @@mandy426 @al-lethan thiashazzywriting @kmc1989

Companion piece to Flight Deck

You can remember the exact moment you fell in love Harm. It was six am on a Tuesday and the two of you were standing at the railing near the back of the aircraft carrier watching the sunrise in the distance, trying to catch your breath. He’d run you ragged that morning, changing up the route a little, throwing in an obstacle or two.

I like to keep things interesting, he’d told you and you could certainly testify to that.

You’d spent three months in his company and you’d told that man things you haven’t spoken about in years. He’d unlocked the parts of you that had shut down after your marriage to Robbie, ignited things inside of you, you didn’t even know existed.

He’s laughing at something you’ve said when he tilts his head towards you. His t-shirt clings to his firm, broad chest, pulling taunt over his shoulders. His navy blue shorts cover his powerful, muscular thighs as you imagine getting on your knees and drawing them down his hips. His flock of dark hair wavers in the breeze as he looks at you, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Your breath catches in your throat and something blossoms deep down in your chest.

He’s a handsome man, you’re not the only one that thinks so. You see the looks some of the other women give him, the way their gazes stray across his form. You’ve been loved by attractive men before, you married one. It doesn’t mean anything.

Harm though, he’s different. You can see it in the way he listens to people, the way he talks to them. There’s an intimacy in the conversations you have, each one is give and take, a mutual sharing of information. There’s no judgement, no recrimination, just understanding. That’s what makes you fall in love with Harmon Rabb,  his compassion, his empathy.

The hourglass runs out before you can decide what to do about it.

One minute you’re the agent afloat, the next you’re being reassigned to New Orleans to investigate the murder of  NCIS Agent Christopher LeSalle because you have connections in that world. Your replacement is already on route. Your tenure on the USS Allegiance is over.

It’s that moment just before you step onto the flight deck to catch your chopper that you realise there’s a chance that he might feel the same way. He gives you that resigned smile, his palms coming to rest on your shoulders, squeezing lightly and you realise for the first time in five years you don’t want to leave. You’re not talking about the ship, you’re talking about him.

It’s the thought of not seeing him again that drives you. Never in a million years did you think you’d put your heart on the line but you do, because there is just something about Captain Harmon Rabb you can’t shake.

“Come visit me.” You request, your palms coming to rest on his chest. “The next time you have leave, come to New Orleans…”

You trail off then because you start to second guess yourself. You can’t hope that this man feels the same way that you do, you’re asking too much for something that a flirtation at best.

“New Orleans in the Spring could be fun,” He murmurs surprising you, his thumb chases over the line of your jaw as the edges of his mouth tip up into a smile.

You kiss him then and the feel of his lips pressing against yours, it’s better than you ever could have dreamed. Your fingers tangle in his hair drawing him closer and he moans into your mouth.

It’s the crackle of the radio that breaks you apart. It’s clear in that moment that he doesn’t want to let you go, you feel that reluctance acutely as you draw away, your hands still clasped in his.

“Stay safe.” He says softly before releasing you.

“Always Captain.” You murmur before issuing him a salute. “I’ll see you in the spring.”

Love Harm? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#harm rabb x reader #harmon rabb x you #harm rabb x you #harm rabb #harmon rabb x reader #harmon rabb #harmon rabb jr #harmon rabb jr x you #ncis los angeles #jag series #harmon rabb jr x reader #ncis la