#and yet I know in my soul that the meat that pilots my body

[nightmareworks]

hi i have been Cooking lancer fic

Once again, we meet Union Auxiliary Pilot, (28th Voidcombat Division, Mercenary Wing Bravo,) ["Kingfishers",] Callsign- VI The Lovers. We meet Miss Allison Wax (she/her) [Her Body, a borrowed face]

And her Loverboy (he/him) [Stone Butch Death Machine]

(both art gotten from @skycrimedraws who NAILS IT EVERY TIME BABY)

"Hey boss man," The words fell out of her lips, halfway through (the next words were a question) when her CO interrupts with "I told you not to call me that." She stops. (She doesn't flinch, its not flinching.) [She kind of just needs to run through some maybes.] For just that moment, there's no one in the body in front of the CO. And then she starts again, words coming back out. "Alright, alright. CO, what's the job you got lined up for me and my Loverboy?" The CO gestured to the spare chair with a file, and Allison picked her way across the floor. (She walked on the tips of her toes, even in the sneakers.) [She walked with a gait to big for her body, like her legs were blades.] {She's En Pointe} She pulled out the chair and sat, crossing a leg across her lap and looking at the CO through her bangs. "The next mission shouldn't be for a while yet, Miss Wax." The CO's voice was always even, collected. That's why they were the CO. That's why they wore Union Grays and Allison wore what she always did. (Just put clothes on Her body) [What kind of clothes did She wear before Allison?] A thought dismissed with the disappointment of nearlight engines. "Really now, CO? How long are you gonna keep me up? More time in medbay?" The CO shakes their head, opening files, going through them. The work seems endless, running a Merc Lance. (But what's Alllison gotta worry about work?) [Gets to wound up, being in a ship conapt too long without her Loverboy.]

"So is it more time with the headmeds?" The CO looks up from the papers and gives that kind of pained smile as Allison snatches a file off the table to read. (One of the ones with the Mission Seal on it.) [Can't read Unionite Legalese for shit.] "No, Miss Wax, you're scheduled for wind-down, but you don't need to go see one of the after-action therapists- unless you feel the need of course." So she started paging through the mission file, going over the after action reports compiled from her Loverboy (From his eye, from his soul.) [The stars are beautiful at 2,000 kmph.] "So there's really no jobs, CO? Not even basic patrols? I get bored when I'm stuck down too long." The CO holds out their hand, and she returns the file. (She likes to feel like she earns her keep.) [That's just polite, for all the things Union offers.] "Miss Wax," the CO begins "I understand that talented pilots get odd without flight." That's the thing about Grays- they're willing to work with you more than they aren't. (Its not that Allison thought they were pushovers.) [Just the most reasonable kind of people, mostly.] I can organize testflights for you, if you see that there isn't more work for the technicians." There's what she wants to hear (But not quite).

"Work's good for me, CO. You wouldn't let a butterfly starve in a jar, would you?" The CO folds the file closed. (Her file.) [The one that says "Obvious signs of long-term Chronos exposure."] Doctors let you read files out this way. Its nice to know they care, at least. CO gives their answer. "Miss Wax, war's a failure and you're a contingency. Glory only comes with time. Take your mech out, call it a patrol if that helps, but my job is to make sure the mercenaries stay healthy and stay flying." There's more, Allison knows there's more, and she stops a moment. For that split second, she's not in Her body. Allison is watching Her sit there, in the chair, in Allison's clothes, across from the CO. (The look on their face is kind of worried.) [People still caught in their meat don't like being reminded of it's hold on them.] Allison picks a maybe, a series of words that seem right, and then the moment is over, and she's back in Her body. "So where are we headed, CO? You can at least let me prepare for the future."

"We're headed to Dawnline, Miss Wax. There'll be work aplenty for you in the Long Rim and beyond."

======

The cavalry technician looked up at the frame he was gonna work on. It was a custom job, one of the Lancers that the Aux had brought onboard when coming out of the Range. Long haul ships for Union do that sometimes, guard presence in exchange for amnesty and escape. Good people get trapped places. He just wasn't sure whoever flew this thing was the best kinda people. "Beautiful damn monster you are." The mechtech murmured under his breath, looking through a sheaf of printouts. Specs for the machine in front of him, an IPS-N Frame the pilot apparently fit together herself. He didn't, really trust the speed listed under its maximum output. That kind of speed would make someone grayout (The speed at which the blood of a human body begins to pool in the limbs, causing the pilot to lose consciousness). Redout even. [The point of g-force at which the brain is starved of blood, and dies.]

He looked up again at the machine and saw it was staring back at him, great singular eye tracking along its axis, to cast its baleful red upon him. He noted it, and looked back to his notes. Looking for if this thing had a casket it in, a C/C programmed to play tricks. The normal shit pilots pull on their technicians. He came up around the great black thing in its bay, and stared it in the eye from the gantry. It stared back, body making the clittering hiss of a mech at rest. (Mechanized Cavalry frames that are in regular usage are rarely quite things.) Coolant pumped through the entire frame, keeping the coldcore under wraps until it really needed to go. Fusion engines, power-reroutes designed along the Albatross style… where the verniers and thrusters aren't shaped for an RPV. (Remote Pilot Vehicles aren't uncommonly retrofitted for pilot use, he notes under his breath) [Under that red eye.] He eyes them again, as the giant thing keeps staring. There isn't any record of a computer smart enough to do anything of worth on this machine.

It was strictly Turning-Compliant, according to the CO's paperwork. That left the damages to repair. Bits of slagged armor along the leg-blades and shoulder plating. Nothing a few hours work with the rigs wouldn't fix. The mechtech flicked a few switches and brought the frame up to the light, to the arms that pulled and printed in smooth motions as his fingers danced across the keys. It was slower going than he thought. And the mech was making a noise. It was keening, a clatter-chatter at once both rumbling low and piercingly high. Something was wrong with the feedback from the mech-harness, reporting simple and blunt legionspace attacks. Best the cavalry technician could manage was to remove the offending plates before the assembly limbs gave up and stalled. That's when a hand touched his shoulder, and a voice rang in his ear. "My Loverboy doesn't know you, mechtech, but I do. Gimmie a minute to settle him down and you can get back to work."

The girl walks past him then, almost teeter-tottering as she glides across the floor on the tips of her shoes. She moves her legs wrong, picking her way as much as stepping. The cavalry tech looks at the mech's legs and puts together the kind of pilot he's dealing with. The kind that have gone in a direction past human, hunting for something else. (He'd never really known someone in full body prosthesis) [Was rare, in his neck of the galaxy.] She moves like her mech even as she steps off the gantry and onto its chest, placing hands against the grinning skull. Ever since she came in, the eye's been locked onto her alone. He worries and wonders what kind of monster he's got to work on now.

===

He screams for her, against the void, he tears away from the cling-gravity of the UNS-CV Paris (Like the commune, she offers) [Like lights, the therapist offers back.] But the past doesn't matter when the future is laid out in the bleeding world of 2000 kmph. She was safe from everything, safe from Gravity itself as she lay coiled in her Loverboy's guts, aching through Chronos haze and picking his flight path for him as a beautiful dance. She wanted him to run through his paces, and he was eager to please. To show her what he could do. How he was built for her. Like a butterfly flitting across a windless sky, like a shark dancing through a school of fish- Loverboy puts on a show for his girl.

She's spinning him a dance, putting the engine to its test. Her Loverboy screams for his girl as he dances, frame keening against the speed and void. (Allison watches Her legs twist against the seat.) [That's how she knew the engine was art] {State-of-the-art affection} She doesn't like to think about home. Not home anymore, and not worth thinking about. More Gravity shorn free from her under the speed. So what's it worth if its pulled away so easily? Home wasn't ever home, no matter how much anyone told Allison it was. What's where you're born compared to where you'll be? (What's the flesh you were born in but another place to be trapped in?) Allison feels her brain reel as Loverboy spins in a piroutte ascending. It doesn't spin in place, but it recognizes the forces working upon it as her Loverboy pulls into a rise. (The snap from horizontal to vertical would snap necks.) [But when you don't have Gravity, moving is easier.]

Verniers howl with force as Allison considers Her. (And the changes Allison had made to Her.) [Would She mind? Would She understand?] There are protective tendons, built from the same kind of whipcord steel that run through Loverboy. There are stabilization systems built into her braincase, that absorb and disperse the shock of sudden shifts of g-force. There's a dozen, a hundred little aftermarket touches to Her body that Allison has made. (But is it really that bad, when the body is aftermarket?) [When the body wasn't built for you.] Allison still watches Her, curled as Allison left Her. (Back curved gentle. Arms on knees, resting eyes against forearm.) [The clunky implants hooking Her to Loverboy peek their tubes from beneath Her shirt] She was still perfect. Still beautiful. Everything Allison had wanted to be back then. There She was, with Allison's brain in Her body, Allison's Loverboy hooked through feeds to Her back.

Allison reached in the stopped little flaring moments between directing Loverboy through his dance. They were all the same moment. Allison reached out, and cradled Her face, and said Her name. Something Allison couldn't ever know. (How was she supposed find Her? Long way from Ketherese.) [From everything from that life.] Everything but her Loverboy. He counts the micromovements of her eyes. His own whirrs and focuses, keening as the scopes hone in on a target and his body twists with his girl's desire. He counts the times she stops existing as a presence registered at the controls. He rolls over and considers in his clicking thoughts the ways he loves her. His adoration burns in him as retros flare and he lands blades first, touching against an asteroid with the grace of a butterfly upon a blossom. His thoughts turn and his computers chitter and churn. His whitewash tanks purge into rawmat resivors and a new batch is rapidly encoded, new chains of acids and code written by mute-drive, a silent organ buried deep in his frame, coiled round and through his girl.

The Hyperkinesis Module develops a novel admixture of nanites and adrenaline and feeds through the connection to Allison, filling her endocrine system with a soothing electricity synchronized to readouts and full reports of engine efficiencies, micrometeor grazes, and heat venting. (His body hisses for her, waste gas for heat disperial in null atmosphere environments) [He bares his heart to her, reactor dropping as he stretches against the asteroid.] Allison leans forward, the Chronos uptake stretching from her back and into the cockpit's back wall. (Little tubes running up to her spine and kidneys) [One of the other aftermarket touches to Her body.] Allison's face reaches through the holoscreen outputs of Loverboy's eye. She kisses the armored outer hull of her cockpit. (She stands to her toes.) And her Loverboy gently touches off the asteroid, into the void, gently floating in the empty place beyond Gravity.

Allison lowers her oxygen uptake, and rides the Chronos her Loverboy made for her. (She dreams like an editor.) [Looking at scenes and picking them.] A wash along the nervous system, stuttering climbing up her spinal column and into the brainstem. She dreams of Ketherese, and what was left behind. Consider the Gravity that's been shed. (In the embrace of her Loverboy.) [Memories are the only thing you can't shed.] Her grandfather's dirt is far from everything she'll ever see again. No one will see the frontiers she sees. (Allison will see things even She'll never see.) [Or maybe they'll see the same stars some day.] {Face-to-borrowed-face.}

No one she had ever known would see what she sees, know what she knows. (She'd shed them, like her old body.) [Like Gravity.]

#lancer oc #lancer rpg #lancer #Allison & Loverboy #they! are! deeply! in! Love! #also allison talks like a freak when she isn't in her own head #kinda love that for her #spacenoids man they're weird

[priestessofspiders]

Ambulatory Flesh

A lot of your quirkier “I fucking love science” types will joke about us human beings as consisting of an intelligent organism, the brain, piloting around the body like some sort of fleshy mech suit. They’ll say that all this clumsy flesh is just a casing for the real life form within, the “man behind the curtain” so to speak. Rykors and kaldanes, y’know? But that’s all bullshit. It’s just a modern retelling of Cartesian dualism, an attempt at devising a secular conception of a soul. There is no meaningful distinction between some abstract, pseudoplatonic “mind” and the sweating, reeking hulks that are our bodies. We’re all just meat in the end, and no amount of philosophizing will ever truly be able to hide this fact.

It all started at a Japanese restaurant. I don’t remember the name of the place, it was a group excursion with friends and I didn’t get to pick where we went. Well, I say friends, but in all truth I don’t think I can even recall the names of the people I went with either, our only real point of connection was through my (former) friend Ted. Most people, I think, don’t actually have the energy to go out and make connections with other human beings, other ambulatory sacks of meat and bone. They get nervous, or overthink things, or are bad at managing time, et cetera, et cetera, an endless parade of excuses to avoid having to deal with the mortifying ordeal of being known. Ted, however, seemed to be able to ingratiate himself with nearly anyone imaginable. I have no idea how he maintained the intricate web of friendships and acquaintances that he possessed, and whenever I spent time with him he seemed to be introducing me to some new person he only met a week ago yet already knows their entire life story. I’d long since come to expect that whenever he asked to hang out, I wouldn’t be the only one attending.

I never really liked Ted much if you couldn’t already tell. He talked too much and too loudly, and never knew when to let a joke die. If there was a contest for beating dead horses, Ted would have won gold medal every time. But, he did possess some sort of natural charisma which caused folks to gravitate towards him, and I never was especially good at making friends, so whenever he sent out an invitation for his little get-togethers I would tag along out of the nagging fear that unless I spent time socializing on a semi-regular basis people might think I was a bit strange. Anything to keep up appearances, after all.

But, that’s not important. I’m rambling, trying to avoid getting to the point of what happened. It feels like maybe if I don’t think about it, if I don’t remember that night at the restaurant, it will have never happened, that maybe if I just go to bed I’ll wake up and everything will be normal again.

Ted was laughing slightly too loud at a joke that one of his new friends had said, and I could feel the prickle of second-hand embarrassment as I watched one of the other guests at the restaurant glance over to our table with a look of slightly detached judgment. My humiliation was cut short, however, when the waiter finally brought around our platter of food.

After a cringe inducing “arigato” escaped from Ted’s beaming, incredibly white mouth, we began divvying up the dishes to their corresponding diners. Usually I was somewhat cowardly when it came to ordering from restaurants, sticking to the beaten path with regards to what foodstuffs I felt comfortable ingesting, but for some Godforsaken reason on that particular day I had decided to be adventurous. I had ordered the sashimi. The plate full of raw fish was placed in front of me, and I gazed upon it with a sort of dull fascination.

I wasn’t disgusted, you must understand, I’m not some squeamish idiot who didn’t know that the raw fish I’d ordered would, indeed, be raw fish, but there was just something so simple about it, so… pure. No other ingredients, no fancy cooking techniques, just clean, uncooked fish, sliced into appealing portions and served with a side of soy sauce. I snapped the binding of the cheap wooden chopsticks before using them to pick up a piece gently, inspecting the sliced tuna for a few seconds as though I were observing some sort of laboratory specimen.

Ted peered up at me from his bowl of ramen with what I assume was meant as a look of encouragement. “Go on Delilah, are you gonna eat it or just look at it?” he asked, playfully.

I was about to respond when the tuna suddenly twitched on the end of my chopsticks. I’m not ashamed to admit that I shrieked as I pulled my hand away in alarm, causing the blob of fish to hit my plate with a meaty smack. Frankly under the circumstances I think it was a perfectly reasonable response.

All eyes turned towards me, and all I could do was point down at my plate, where the dismembered cut of fish was clumsily, blindly undulating towards me, like a slug having an epileptic fit. I was trapped in a booth seat, stuck between two strangers and unable to get out as this limbless blob of disembodied piscine tissue just kept twitching and spasming.

I wasn’t afraid for my life, I think. I don’t believe that I thought I was in any immediate danger, it’s not like the sashimi would be able to do anything. It had no teeth to bite with, no claws with which to cut me. What bothered me was simply that it was moving, and that it should not have been able to move. We don’t expect something which we are going to put into our mouths to still be twitching when we do so. The thought that I had very nearly been about to take a bite made me want to vomit.

Fortunately, my cry of terror had alerted one of the waiters, who, upon noticing the mobile meat, swiftly took the platter away while the rest of Ted’s friends tried their best to calm me down. The man himself, however, was too busy laughing to be of any assistance. He was still guffawing when I managed to extricate myself from the table and make my way back to my car. The moron never did know when to stop turning everything into a goddamn joke.

Now of course after I got home and calmed down a bit with the assistance of some Smirnoff, I took the time to look up what happened on the internet. A quick Google search confirmed that yes, sometimes, very rarely, raw meat can still move around a bit. Something to do with stored energy in the muscles, the cells not being quite yet dead. Fish seem to be particularly susceptible, but it appeared that all sorts of animals did something of a postmortem jig now and again. One particularly nauseating video showed the plucked, headless carcass of a chicken, spasming as though trying to escape as it lay atop a pile of its immobile comrades.

Now, knowing something is natural doesn’t necessarily make it stop being horrific. Understanding how static electricity functions doesn’t make a lightning strike any less shocking, if you’ll pardon the pun. But, at the very least, I was comforted by the knowledge that what I experienced was simply some sort of biological fuckup rather than a sign of the supernatural. At least, that’s what I thought at the time, anyway.

I remember the night after my first experience I had a particularly vivid nightmare. I was standing in the foyer of the Japanese restaurant, and it seemed very busy. A waiter ushered me over to a table, where a number of other people were already seated, including Ted who was guffawing loudly. Laying on the table was a blandly attractive naked woman, her body covered in sushi.

I never really understood the appeal of eating the sushi off of someone’s body, to be entirely honest, even accounting for my own heterosexuality. It’s not as though I’d want to eat off of a handsome man either. There’s something odd, the reduction of a human being into little more than a sexualized table. I mean it’s objectifying, obviously, but I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it? Regardless, I could feel my dream self’s skin crawl as I sat down in my appointed place, knowing that something horrible was about to happen.

As I watched, all of the little slices of fish began to wriggle free from their seaweed binding, squirming and twitching off of the beds of white rice. The woman on the table opened her mouth as the dozens of chunks of ambulatory flesh moved up towards her face. They began to crawl inside, stuffing her open mouth until she couldn’t breath, her face turning blue, but she just kept staying perfectly still, even as her exposed chest heaved up and down, desperately trying to get air into her blocked windpipe. All around me the other guests started to giggle and snicker at the sight, their mirth increasing in intensity as the woman slowly suffocated. When she finally stopped breathing entirely, the whole crowd was engaged in uproarious, hysterical laughter. After a few seconds, the corpse began to twitch and writhe in the same way the dead fish had, its glassy, blank eyes staring out from its lifeless face into nothing. I woke up sobbing.

It was a few weeks before I had my next encounter with unnaturally moving meat. In the intervening time I tried very hard to forget the whole matter, though I did make an effort to avoid Ted, social conformity be damned. Whenever I thought about his stupid laugh it made me feel sick all over again. As a matter of fact I spent a lot of time avoiding everyone, really. I prefer solitude, especially when after I’ve undergone something upsetting. It may seem silly that I’d go to all this fuss over a single piece of twitching sashimi, but I’ve always been fairly sensitive, and something about the whole concept of dead tissue still being able to move bothered me beyond belief. Maybe I just watched too many zombie films when I was a kid or something, who knows?

In any event, the second time happened at a company barbecue. Mandatory attendance, of course, it was that sort of a workplace, all focused on teamwork and working together “not just as a business, but as a family.” I don’t exactly know why I needed to be so focused on forming a bond with my coworkers when my own position as a data entry clerk left me working in blissful isolation for most of the time, but I imagine the overpaid men in suits who arranged these corporate equivalents of elementary school pizza parties instead of just giving out raises probably didn’t understand the concept of introversion. Anything to force employees back to the office after years of working from home, I suppose.

Fortunately I didn’t need to drive to the event, as it was just held in the parking lot during lunch hour, which I ordinarily spend sitting in my car curled up with a book (I could never stand the constant chatter of my coworkers in the break room). Like most corporate teamwork building events, it was simultaneously deeply awkward and a little bit sad. A few grills were set up with some bored looking catering staff cooking up burgers and steaks, while the halting half-laughter and polite tones of corporate enforced camaraderie emanated from the office drones clad in blandly professional outfits as they sat at the various card tables set up under white plastic tents.

I held out a paper plate like a priest soliciting donations from his congregation, and one of the underpaid pitmasters plopped a well-done steak onto it. I slathered it with a generous helping of barbecue sauce and then sat as far away from everyone else as I possibly could. Just because the powers that be could force me into attending this little gathering didn’t mean they could make me talk to anyone.

I sat glumly, stewing in my own petulance (I’m nothing if not self-aware) as I cut a piece off of my steak and popped it into my mouth without really looking at what I was doing. The texture was… off, somehow, and the flavor was unusual. I looked down at the steak to see that beneath the crispy, almost burnt exterior, the meat was quite rare, undercooked even, and was leaking blood onto my paper plate. It was thick too, not the watered down juices from a rare steak, but sticky, opaque, red as a bullfighter’s cape. Then, the hunk of charred flesh lunged towards me.

I don’t mean it twitched, I don’t mean it crawled, the thing leapt like a goddamned jackrabbit right at me. I fell backward in the cheap plastic folding chair, banging the back of my head against the concrete in the process which caused my vision to be filled with stars. I could feel the sticky, greasy piece of meat slithering across my chest, moving towards my open mouth, and I screamed in terror and pain. I could feel it pulsing as though it had a heartbeat, and the warmth from the grill made it feel sickeningly close to body heat.

It was only a few seconds before some of my coworkers rushed over to help, but it felt like an agonizingly long time as I lay there in pain, the quivering hunk of burnt flesh squirming closer to my face. Finally, someone helped me to my feet, and as though shy in the presence of other people, the steak seemingly lost its capacity for movement, falling to the ground with a wet splat.

Everyone wanted to know what happened, they kept asking me over and over again:

“Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you hurt?”

The whole time I couldn’t focus on what they were saying for long enough to give a satisfying answer, I’d just see their red, fleshy tongues flapping in their mouths and feel sick all over again, feeling painfully aware of the blood that the steak had leaked all over my dress. They’re all just mounds of walking, talking, meat, covered in a thin layer of greasy, stinking skin and wrapped up in cloth to hide the truth of what they are. What we all are.

I managed to eventually stammer out some sort of excuse that my manager accepted as reason for me to take the rest of the day off, and I drove home after I calmed down enough to feel safe at the wheel. I didn’t tell anyone about the moving steak. I knew they wouldn’t believe me. It’s not like anyone else saw it that time.

When I got home I threw out all the meat in my refrigerator. Starving children in the third world be damned, I wasn’t going to risk having the fucking bologna try and smother me in my sleep. Call me paranoid if you want, but after what I’ve been through, I feel pretty goddamn vindicated. It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you after all.

See, it didn’t stop with the steak. Even after I cut all meat out of my diet (I pretended it was a health thing), I still wasn’t free from dead flesh moving. It was little things at first. Dead flies on the windowsill twitching tiny legs previously held stiff with rigor mortis. Soggy worms that were still just moments before struggling to escape their watery tombs as I pass them by on the rain-soaked sidewalk. Hell, maybe it had been going on a while even before the sashimi incident and I just never noticed. But once I had an eye for it, it seemed to happen everywhere.

I knew it wasn’t natural. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, dozens and dozens of times afterwards over and over until you feel like clawing your fucking eyes out rather than see another roadkill squirrel try to drag itself across the pavement towards you is a sign that God just hates you. I can’t even walk into grocery stores anymore, I have to get everything by delivery, because if I even get within a hundred yards of the meat department I might see the sausages and chicken breasts and steaks and pork chops and dozens of other plastic wrapped corpses gently flopping and spasming and twitching, trying desperately to break free of their refrigerated prisons to get towards me. I know I’m not just going crazy. Usually, nobody notices, the meat quieting as soon as anyone else is around, but not always. I remember once watching a young girl start crying as she saw a T-bone steak crawling like an inchworm behind the glass case of the meat counter. She asked her mother why it wasn’t dead. Meat asking the meat it budded off from why the meat which should be still is moving.

Who are you supposed to talk to about this sort of thing? Where were you supposed to go? It’s not like a shrink would do me any good as I am in no respect delusional, and I certainly was not going to try and seek out the assistance of a priest. If anything the moving meat has more firmly cemented my disenchantment with the prospect of divinity; any God that allows such violations of nature to exist is not one who is worthy of worship. I wasn’t going to beg on my hands and knees for the help of a deity who presides over a broken world.

So I just dealt with it. I kept away from grocery stores and supermarkets, I turned a blind eye to the twitching bugs and spasming roadkill, and I stuck to my new vegetarian diet. I also had to remove all the mirrors in my house. I couldn’t bear to look at my reflection anymore, to be reminded of the meat that is me. Every twitch of an eye, every deep breath, it all just felt like that same unnatural mobility of dead flesh. Go ahead and call it denial if you want, my disposal of the mirrors, but it gave me at least some peace of mind. Besides, I didn’t like looking at the bags under my eyes that I was getting from all the nightmares.

This continued for a while, my coping with the impossible by simply ignoring it. Maybe a month or two, though it is hard for me to remember exactly how long. Things weren’t perfect, I drank a lot and had a few breakdowns here and there, but who wouldn’t under the circumstances? My point is I was getting on with things, to the best of my ability, and not just crumbling from the pressure. I wasn’t going to be beaten by a bunch of lifeless tissue being puppeted around by some unknowable force. I’m stronger than that.

Then came my father’s sickness. It happens to everyone in the end, doesn’t it? Meat spoils, after all. I don’t remember all the details, the doctors used a lot of fancy sounding medical terminology for it, something about blood clots and brain damage, but what it all boiled down to is that the man who raised me was on his deathbed, unconscious and unresponsive.

I never knew my mother. She ran off at some point shortly after I was born, leaving daddy dearest to take care of me the best he could. And he did do his best, I’m sure of that now. He fucked up along the way, but everyone’s parents do. They’re not perfect. Nobody is perfect. We’re all just meat, after all.

I started spending a lot of time with my father. He spent so much of his life caring for me when I had just entered this world, I felt like it was only fair I was by his side as he left it. I wasn’t deluded into thinking that he’d get better, or even that he would be aware of my presence, but it felt right for me to be next to him. I didn’t want him to die alone.

I’d sit there by his side, reading from one of my books. Sometimes, if the mood struck me, I’d read aloud to him. There was never any recognition in his eyes, he’d just stare blankly at the ceiling, his rattling breathing providing a distant background hum, but I didn’t mind. If anything I kind of appreciated that he didn’t do much. I was so used to things that shouldn’t move moving that it almost felt like a relief to see something which should move remain more or less stationary.

Now, they didn’t have him hooked up to life support machines or anything like that, you must understand. Nothing to monitor his vital signs, no machine to keep his heart beating, he was just laying in bed under scratchy hospital blankets. My father wasn’t afraid of death, and had demanded that he not be resuscitated in the event of something like this happening to him. Better to die with dignity than be forced to live with the help of machines.

It was because of this lack of monitoring that I didn’t initially notice when he finally stopped breathing. I was just sitting there, reading, when all of a sudden I was struck by how quiet the hospital room was. I put down my book and looked over to the bed, and my father’s chest had ceased to rise and fall. He was gone, and I hadn’t even realized when it happened. I knew it was coming, but I wanted to be there for him, I wanted to hold his hand as he crossed that final threshold. That this was taken from me made me start to cry.

I grabbed hold of his hand, hoping to experience at least my father’s warmth for one last time before he went cold. There was still the faintest touch of heat in his calloused, old fingers, and the tears flowed freely down my face.

“I’m sorry”, I said as I squeezed his hand, “I’m so sorry dad.”

He squeezed back.

Gasping in surprise, I looked up, hoping against all hope to see my father’s smiling face as he woke up, as if from a long dream, miraculously alive and okay. But that isn’t what I saw. This isn’t that kind of story. This isn’t that sort of world.

The corpse that was my father began to twitch and spasm, writhing and squirming as if made of a hundred tiny pieces each trying to break free from the whole. What was once my father’s head rolled lazily to face me, doll eyes blankly staring forward as the lifeless thing wriggled towards me.

It was like watching an octopus move, each limb in possession of a mind of its own, its hand in a vice grip against mine. I tried to pull free but I couldn’t, it was grasping too tight. I screamed for help, calling for anybody to get this corpse, this meat, away from me. My cries were cut off as its other hand grasped my throat, bent awkwardly at an impossible angle as I heard its bones snap.

My vision faded to black, and the last thing I saw before I passed out was my father’s face, lifeless and dead, staring into nothing.

I lived, of course. I wouldn’t be sitting here typing this if I didn’t. Whatever unnatural force was animating the corpse, it didn’t stick around long enough to do any lasting damage beyond leaving some bruises on my neck. A nurse found me unconscious on the floor, my father’s body laying on top of me stiffly.

They didn’t even try to come up with a realistic explanation for what happened, they just said my injuries must have been self-inflicted during a “psychotic break brought about by the traumatic event”, because no doctor is going to believe a woman who says her dead father tried to strangle her to death. The most they humored me was admitting that it was possible that I witnessed some postmortem muscle spasms. Meat that didn’t know it was dead yet.

I’m working through it though. I’m facing my fears. That’s what you’re supposed to do as an adult right? You just sit down and deal with things, you don’t make a fuss about it. And so that’s what I’m doing, I’m handling all this with maturity and grace.

I’ve even started eating meat again.

Little pieces.

Nice, bite sized chunks.

I’ve almost gotten used to how it feels as it wriggles down my throat.

#horror fiction #horror story #horror #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creepypasta

[little-paper-man]

In light of me finishing up another chapter of There MUST be More, I, with my noodle brain, realized I should have just one post dedicated to it that I reblog instead of having several standalone posts whenever I update...

#hello void i have words #I like to believe Im quite smart #and yet I know in my soul that the meat that pilots my body #runs on dial-up internet #tmbm

[hotdamnhunnam]

Pacific Love

A/N: So this fic can be read as Part 2 to Pacific Rimjob, or as a standalone fic! This second part is based on the below request for some hot sex followed by comforting cockwarming with Raleigh, the fluffiest snuggliest version of Charlie 🥰

Pairing: Raleigh Becket x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, your pussy serving as a home for Raleigh’s cock Requests: Request from @wayward-avenging​ + a separate request from @rayslittlekitten​

Word Count: ~1.7k

“Still can’t believe you saved the motherfucking world.”

Your boyfriend sighs, with an exasperated blink of his blue eyes. Hates when you say it in that way, like he alone had saved the day. “We saved the world. Me and my girl.”

“You and the Gipsy Danger?” you reply, the name of his beloved Jaeger. The massive robot you two co-pilot together.

Raleigh heaves another sigh. He’s a fierce feminist, aware that women rarely get the recognition that they merit; the injustice of it makes him want to cry. That’s why he’s clearly so upset at your refusal to take credit.

Brushing a speck of dust off of the warm navy blue sweater he’s got on, you urge him not to sweat it. “Babe, I’m just pushing your buttons,” you admit, reaching to ruffle his blonde hair bright as spun gold and soft as cotton. At your touch you can already sense the energy inside him shifting. Letting go of his frustration as you gently fluff it out of him. “I know I had to carry all your problems, so it’s obvious that I’m the one who did the heavy lifting.”

He smiles as he melts into your hand then brings it down toward his lips so he can kiss it. “You know I’m glad the war is finished... but I gotta say I’m gonna miss it. Drifting.”

“Being in each other’s heads? Well, even better yet... we’ll always have our time together in each other’s beds.”

“That’s true,” he coos, stars in his baby blues. “I really like being inside of you.”

Who gave this full-grown man the right to be so fucking cute? It’s fucking rude. Your fingers wander toward his gorgeous golden mane again and comb tenderly through. “Of course you do. I like it too... and I love you.”

Throughout the war that you have somehow overcome, Drifting together had begun to feel like home. It felt like you belonged in his head even more than in your own. You were just better when you both were in that deep mind-melding zone. The two of you are more than just compatible; the bond you share is magical. It’s pure and powerful as hell.

And thankfully you know a way to bring that level of connection into the bedroom as well.

***************

Sex with Raleigh Fucking Becket... is a trip to heaven on a one-way ticket.

You still recall and probably won’t ever forget—back in the days before the two of you had met—what all the other women gossiping throughout the Shatterdome had said: how this new guy walking around the halls was tall and good-looking and no doubt even better-looking naked, but probably a dud in bed. A pretty slice of plain white bread.

While he may come off as a teddy bear, with his soft fluffy hair, and eyes so big and bright you never fail to melt beneath his stare... so wholesome it’s really not fair... the truth is, none of those bitches knew shit. 

They didn’t have a clue, just what Mr. Becket could do. Neither did you—until he claimed you as his girl and put you through it.

True, Raleigh insists on sex within a context of mutual understanding and respect. Prefers softcore. Prefers the passion to feel pure, to let your hearts and souls connect. 

But that won’t stop his big heroic dick from fucking like a monster once he knows that you are ready to get wrecked. And all the hardcore kinks of yours... he’s more than willing to explore. 

By now he’s got a kink himself for dirty talk, and roughing you up with his cock—spanking your ass while he slams your cunt from behind and constantly reminds you that you are his filthy fucking whore.

That’s what he does tonight, fucking you up just right. 

He takes more pleasure and more pride, in pounding into you and plunging deep inside, than any earth-shattering war he’ll ever fight.

And so do you—the slick walls of your pussy squeezing tight, around his huge shaft as he plows it through, splitting you open wide... his cock may be the Jaeger as you take it. But this love is meant for both of you to make it.

The bed beneath you creaks and rocks, as Raleigh keeps slapping your slutty ass and railing you with his colossal cock; this wouldn’t be the first time that the power of his thrusts managed to break it.

Having literally saved the world gives you the right to fuck so hard you’ll probably fucking shake it. Shake the whole damn world. The wholesome hero and his filthy whore, his dirty little girl.

Now the war is finally over maybe someday he can flood you with his cum without protection and pump you full of a little baby Becket...

But you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself yet. That’s for another night. Tonight you’re still on birth control as he fills up your hole and hammers you into the bed. Tonight is all about making your man’s cock feel at home inside your cunt so wet, so tight—letting him wreck it, now the two of you have conquered this long fight... and then indulging in a long night that he won’t ever forget.

Once his thick hot cum paints your pussy, so deliciously juicy, your sex and his pulsing in sync in perfect ecstasy... both of you take a breathless moment to recover from the climax so intense and clear the shooting stars spinning around your heads.

Your co-pilot’s full body weight collapses down on yours and crushes you into the bed, so you can feel the muscles of his abs and chest, slick with his sweat, against your back so firmly pressed. He knows just how much you love that—it’s the best, this sense of being so closely connected, after any round of sex you’ve had, completely covered by your lover as you sink into the mattress. Being beneath him in this way makes you feel safe and loved and so alive after your senses get fucked dead.

Raleigh softly tilts his face to kiss your cheek, filling you with the love that gives you endless strength yet makes you feel so weak. Somehow you manage now to speak, reminding him of that one thing that he had said.

“Do you still miss the Drift?”

His cock inside your core is still as massive, almost just as stiff. Meanwhile his loving mouth curves up into a smile as it shifts from your cheek down toward your parted lips to seal them with a kiss. “There’s not a thing I miss. Not when I’m with you just like this.”

As if you weren’t already you are now convinced: Raleigh Becket is honestly a motherfucking Disney prince.

You drown in kisses for a few seconds—or minutes, or hours for all that you know, given that your perception of time always blurs in the sheer bliss of afterglow. Each kiss is soft and sweet and sensual and slow. 

His meat at last begins to soften where it’s buried deep inside you. Pulling out to shift position, for a sleepy snuggle session, is what he’ll usually do.

... But you have something else in mind, which you don’t doubt will feel divine. The thought of it excites you and you know that it’ll be nice for Raleigh too.

“Why don’t you stay,” you softly say, just as he starts to pull away.

“...Stay?” he echoes as he keeps his body held against yours tightly.

“Inside of me,” you murmur quietly. “Isn’t that where you like to be?”

His fully drained dick answers with a twitch. Throbbing against your inner walls and scratching a new itch. He’s catching on to the idea that you want to serve him as his cockwarming bitch.

Though Raleigh hates the thought of using you like some kind of accessory... on some level he knows that isn’t how it has to be. It can be comforting and pleasing for the two of you both equally, to keep him in your pussy, buried deeply.

And as he answers your question it’s obvious that he’s aroused beyond belief. “It’s home for me. If I could I would be inside you permanently. Never leave.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the war is finally over...” you provocatively murmur. “So just go ahead and make yourself at home, soldier.”

You co-pilot lets out a growl of arousal and nuzzles your shoulder. “You sure?”

“Of fucking course. You know this pussy is all yours.”

“Mmm, that’s my perfect little whore,” he snarls, the words making your toes curl. “Who knew you’re such a dirty girl?”

“Um, you did, stupid.”

He masks his laughter and pretends to be insulted. “Now that’s no way to talk to the hero who just saved the world!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you playfully answer. “Remind me that you saved the world and that you own my body, sir.”

Raleigh’s half-hard dick pushes inside you deeper than it already is as his full weight keeps pressing you into the bed. “Mmm, as if you could ever forget...”

Indeed as if you ever could, when his cock owns you so fucking good. 

You spend all night impaled on his wood. Alternating between cozy cuddling, with butterfly kisses and fluffy hair ruffling... and crazy hard fucking, with him stuffing you so roughly that you’ll surely wake incapable of walking... then cuddling again as his cock slowly softens. Changing up your position every so often, but never once loosening your cunt’s tight hold of him—all the while Raleigh stays buried inside of you just as he should.

Whisper words of love, though words are never enough. You both already know it, and show it... melding into one and the same person, your two hearts as one, beating in unison, just as every fiber of your being and his come undone in complete perfect sync every time you get off.

The war has never felt farther behind you, than now when he’s deep inside you. This is home and there’s such peace, in each release. Such pure pacific love.

While the bond that you forged and explored in the Drift was a gift... one that Raleigh will miss.. nights like this—this feeling of sharing in such absolute bliss—even after the war is finished, love unlike war has no fucking limits. And that’s the true gift.

This is the gift that will keep on giving for as long as you live.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

Masterlist

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[starlightsearches]

His Pilot Ch. 5

Masterlist

Armitage Hux x Pilot! Reader (f)

Warnings: Language, angst.

AN: This one is a little short but I felt like this was a nice enough place to cut off. Chapter 6 will be out fairly soon since it's already half written!

I’ve been spying for the Resistance.

The air in your lungs solidifies, turning to ash as you freeze against him, like an animal in a trap. General Hux, a Resistance spy.

All those hours by his side, and you never knew—couldn’t read it in his palms when his hand rested in yours, or feel traces of it on his shoulders during any embrace. You couldn’t taste it, the lies on his lips when he held you in trembling hands and poured light into your empty and waiting soul.

How could he not tell you? How could you not know?

You’ve been blind. The answer comes as soon as you allow yourself to ask the question: Day. The general had always been so private about the purpose of these trips, and you’d ignored all the signs, too caught up in your own head to see what was right in front of you.

The general’s chest swells where you lay your cheek against it; he can’t stay still, his hands traveling over your arms with a feverish energy, his voice a low, urgent whisper.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. I’ve planned for this. We’ll return to the ship. You’ll tell the Supreme Leader that you have certain suspicions, and I’ll— and he’ll spare you, if you’re the one who tells him. You’ll be safe. It’s alright. You’ll be safe.”

Safe. The word disgusts you, and you force your way out of his arms, recoiling from him like you’ve been burned. Safe. Safe. Safe.

You’ve never wanted anything less.

And at such a steep cost. He’s offering you a half-life, one where he dies but takes more of you than you can live without. You won’t bear it. You need more time.

Forcing yourself out of his grasp, you search the cabin with frantic eyes and an unruly heartbeat—for what, you don’t know.

Until you see the blaster.

Someone must have forgotten about it. It might not even work, left behind after a mission as a defective piece of equipment, a bit of clutter for someone else to clean up, but you can’t worry about that right now.

The blaster rests heavily in your hand, the grip marks indented against your palm, the sharp edge of the trigger digging into the meat of your finger. You raise the weapon to eye level, focusing the sight on the center of the ship’s controls, willing your hand to stay still. You’ve never been that good of a shot, but there’s no way you can miss at such close range.

The control panel bursts into a shower of sparks, the blaster bolt peeling through the layers of wire and durasteel and machinery with ease, ripping apart what was whole and leaving a smoking cavern through the middle of it. The weapon falls as you move to shield your eyes, stepping back when the heat of it meets your skin. And then a different heat—Armitage’s hands at your waist, his arms encircling you, pulling you back from the ruined controls with enough desperation to pull you back in time.

You turn, read the dread in his eyes as he examines the panel’s mangled remains. He’s horrified.

“What did you just do?”

“If you contact the Order—if you give yourself up—I’ll tell them I knew. I’ll tell them I was part of it.” Your voice shakes as you cup his cheeks in your cold, aching hands. He looks at you, disbelief etched into every line and curve of his face, his long fingers encasing your wrists as he steps back, keeping you at a distance.

“Please—” he begs, softer now, “please don’t do this.”

His eyes shut tight to the world, breathing shallow and anguished, but he can’t stop it. Tears trail down his cheeks, gentle at first, then in a downpour. He thinks he’s saying goodbye.

You’re not ready for that.

What you have with him is new, and fragile, and . . . strange. It might not last. But you don’t want to go on without knowing. You want to see what grows from the seeds you have planted.

“We could run away.”

A sharp breath cuts through his chest as he drops his hands from your arms, folding in on himself, like the pain is eating him from the inside out; you take it as an opportunity to move closer. He has to feel it—your sincerity, the loyalty you have for him. It could be love. There’s no way to know just yet, but someday it could be love.

“We could. Together. The Resistance might help us, or we’ll . . . we’ll do something. Find somewhere to hide.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

There’s lifetimes of abandonment behind those words, a skepticism that runs through his core. His fingers shake against yours, hands stiff with cold, and you hold them tighter.

“Maybe not—” you press the tips of his fingers against your lips, taste the leftover rain, let your lips trail down until you can kiss the center of his palm, urging him closer with each soft touch, “ but I know what I can’t live with, and what I can’t live without.”

His shoulders fall, lips parted in a soft sigh, the hesitant expression he wears overtaken by the slightest ray of hope.“What will we do?”

“We’ll go back to Day.”

You’re not sure what he’ll say when Day yanks open the heavy door of his estate as you and the general shiver, dripping wet on his front step. The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, his eyes hard, the furrowed lines in his forehead much too deep for someone who smiles so freely.

He looks to the general, pursing his lips. “So, I assume you told her?”

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that.

Hux sighs, watching Day with a pained expression, but the man makes no move to let you in, cocking his brow and crossing his arms over his chest. The two men stay locked like this, staring each other down, until Day gestures, holding his hand out as if to say go on.

The general folds, sending an apologetic look your way before resting his arm gently over your shoulder, pulling you in against his side, and your cheeks flush with heat at the surprising intimacy of the gesture.

“Please, Day, we need your help.”

Day pauses, dark brows curving thoughtfully over bright amber eyes; then he grins, ferociously, yanking both of you in through the door.

“Thank the Maker, general. I was beginning to think you’d never come around.”

He steps aside to reveal Alida, already waiting for you with a fresh pile of towels and blankets. Before you can manage to voice your surprise, she’s forced a warm cup of caff into your numb hands, fussing about with a towel and piling blanket after blanket over your shoulders until the shivering stops.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Day approaches you quietly as soon as Alida moves on, holding your face in both his hands like he’s inspecting you for damage. You nod, the stiffness in your cheeks melting away under the warmth of his touch.

“I’m alright,” you assure him, and feel that same assurance lift a heavy weight off your chest.

“I don’t say this lightly, darling,” he whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “but you’re too good for him. You do know that, don’t you?”

Your eyes find Armitage in the dim light of the foyer. He’s holding his own cup of caff as Alida attempts to throw blankets over his shoulders, her arms too small to place them nicely, but he pays her little attention, scowling at the lack of distance between you and Day. Even in the darkness you can see his skin flush when you catch him staring, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

A smile that graces your lips, “I think you’re wrong.”

Hux is at your side again, trying to be subtle when he angles his body between yours and Day, “We need a plan, Day. We can’t stay on Arkanis for too long, the Order will come looking for us.”

“I’ll contact the Resistance and let them know you’re in need of protection, but it may take a few days for them to get back to me,” Day says, trying his best to conceal his grin, “but for now, you need to rest. Do you think you’re capable of that, general?”

“It’s just Hux, now, Day,” Armitage says, folding his hand into yours, looking down at you with too much affection, given the situation, “and I think I’ll manage.”

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[saii-the-idiot]

Helluva Boss/ Hazbin Hotel spoilers,,, again

Okokok so I have arranged this into a theory. Starting with what we know for sure. Imps can kill other imps in the wrath ring. The overlords can be killed, but only by special weapons. We don’t know enough about the other rings yet but assuming that because they’re also only populated by imps and other natural born hell creatures with no way for humans to access them, we’re going to say for the sake of this theory that they follow the same rule and that since pride is run by someone who isn’t native to hell it’s the only exception (Lucifer was cast out of heaven in the bible). The two possibilities right now are that either it’s possible for sinners to kill imps and they’re just unaware of it so the imps built their city farther away as a means of protection and they have a mutual trust to not kill each other while there, or the imps that visit the pride ring are immune to being killed by sinners and other imps alike. For the purposes of this theory, I’m going to set angel weapons and the special overlord killing guns like Striker has in episode 5 aside for a bit as they aren’t common enough to add anything important to the body of this theory.

Ok first off before I start digging into the actual meat of this I’d just like to say, I believe the annual purge is something that only happens in the pride ring. Judging by the fact that the imps can kill each other off in the other rings and that their population doesn’t grow nearly as fast, they don’t exactly need an annual purge. Also from what we’ve seen of the wrath ring, they have plenty of room for farms. Wrath at the very least isn’t packed full of citizens in huge dense cities needing to be purged every year, and again assuming the other rings operate in a somewhat similar way (as in they don’t have sinners constantly flowing in) it’s a personal theory of mine that the only ring with an annual purge is pride. 

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s look at our first possibility. That the imps are able to be killed by anyone, including sinners, in the pride ring. That the imps, in avoiding the murderous sinners, built their city far away to avoid any accidents. And that the imps have a mutual understanding not to kill each other. This possibility however is disproved by Helluva Boss episode 2; Loo Loo Land. I’m talking about the amount of people that survive the seemingly deadly theme park. Between the fires set by Blitzo in his battle against Robo Fizz, the deadly rides, and the assassins shown lurking around every corner, this isn’t exactly somewhere you would wanna take your kids for a fun day with the family. This is further supported by Loo Loo the mascot’s line “If y’all get hurt here, just try and sue us!” I know this seems like a bit of a reach considering it’s just one line, but Loo Loo did specifically say “get hurt” instead of “get killed”. While it’s easy enough to overlook if you’re not paying attention, in a series centered around death and the afterlife where every detail matters, I think it’s actually a clue as to the way death works in hell and what it means for the series. In the series in general imps and sinners alike are shown to survive really traumatic injuries in the pride ring without much more than a scratch or bruise to show for it. The exception in this episode is when Stolas turns someone into stone by just looking at them, but we’re not counting that as supporting evidence because he’s an extremely powerful overlord.

Another exception to this are Sir Pentious’s egg minions who are killed en masse in the turf war of the Hazbin Hotel pilot, but they don’t appear to be sinners or imps so we’re going to set them aside for now and theorize about them another time. The only ever confirmed deaths that take place in the pride ring are caused by overlords, and in a place literally crawling with murderous psychopaths this leads me to believe that regular imps and sinners are completely incapable of murder in the pride ring without angel weapons. The imps are also constantly exposed to the sinners, so surviving as a population for tens of thousands of years at least without any casualties at all is impossible. The imps are also violent beings by nature, the majority of which are completely unopposed to killing, so the chances of them living in harmony on the outskirts of the ring are next to zero. With all this, I think we can safely rule out this as a possibility for how the pride ring operates. This leads me to the next option. 

The other (more likely) possibility is that the pride ring is an immune zone to killing. First off, it wouldn’t make sense for the sinners to be able to kill one another and the imps here, as they wouldn’t get their eternal punishment that way. The purpose of hell is to punish sinners eternally, and if the sinner can just nope out whenever they want then it defeats the purpose entirely. Hell is also, you know, full of people that have committed horrifying acts in their lives. It’s full of every murderer, psychopath, and just all around asshole out there. This is the afterlife with no consequences and a lot of sinners would take advantage of this. There could and probably (knowing the demeanor of the sinners) would be imp hunting events set up by the unkillable human souls to prey on the In terms of the purpose of hell, the general immunity to harm displayed in this ring, and the way the ring has quarantined the sinners to only be able to live there, It’s my firm belief that imp or sinner you’re unable to die in the pride ring at the hands of anything other than an angel’s weapon. 

This would also make the pride ring a safe place for the imps to go to avoid being killed off by other imps. There is however a much darker side to this part of the theory. What if the pride ring isn’t this safe place that the imps are looking out for? Sure, some of them might be going there on purpose to try and make lives for themselves, but there’s also a possibility that imp city in the pride ring is a place for castaway and escaping imps to go if they can’t stay in their own rings. This would add to the overpopulation and increase their chances of being killed in the annual purge however. I feel like if imps are moving to the pride ring and it is a neutral zone they have nothing left to lose and are willing to accept the possibility of their deaths every year. It could also be a place for imps sent for execution/eternal punishment of their own to go, given that not a lot of people want to willingly move to the place with an annual purge. 

However, there is one thing that could potentially poke a massive hole in this theory, and that’s the official Hazbin Hotel comic “A Day In The After Life” in which we’re introduced to the concept of cannibals in the afterlife. In this comic, (for those who have no idea what I’m talking about) Alastor goes down to the part of town where the society of cannibals lives because he got word of a new butcher he hadn’t heard of before and wanted to try his products. Knowing this is a cannibal colony, they would have to be eating sinners and/or imps. You’re probably wondering “how could they be killing and eating each other if this is a safe zone?” but this also has a possible explanation. Angels are known to sometimes leave behind their weapons after the purge, as shown in the Hazbin Hotel pilot, so the butchers in the colony could have just picked up the weapons after a purge. This is further supported by Alastor hearing of a “new” butcher just after the last purge, meaning the butcher probably only got in business after getting his hands on an angel’s weapon. 

Another thing that could disprove this theory is the other official Hazbin Hotel comic “Chapter 1: Dirty Healings” In which Angel Dust kills several of Valentino’s “associates”. This is once again disproved by the fact that the angel weapons can be fashioned into guns, as shown in Helluva Boss episode 5. If Angel Dust had even one of those guns, he would easily be able to kill all the shark demons. (Don’t ask why Angel Dust can’t just kill Valentino if he has the gun(s), he’s extremely outnumbered and would be killed almost immediately if he did)

Another thing I was thinking about is because the imps can travel between rings, can they just go to a different ring for the purge? If so, then can all imps do this? But that’s yet another theory for another day.

These are all just theories of course, feel free to correct me if I got anything wrong. I’d like to see what y’alls opinions on this are. Watch a new episode come out and prove like,, all of this wrong. Sorry for this being so long and wordy lol

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #theory #helluva boss theory #hazbin hotel theory #i'm still going insane

[astral-orphan]

Cognitive Dissonance?

I read a theory/belief some new age spiritualists share that got my brain juices flowing. They like to see it as we are of two halves. Our ego is our baser self. I am concious, I am me! I am an individual. Our higher self is our subconcious, our more divine being. Our higher conciousness is trying to drive/steer our ego-driven selves in the right direction for our soul’s betterment. Towards our purpose in life. The higher conciousness isn’t in direct control, our ego is, it communicates via the subconciousness and trying to send messages to us via like deja vu, etc. This resonated with me, because I feel this way. Be it a side effect of us being plural/a system, or maybe for another, unbeknownst reason.

It’s that certain feeling when you dissociate, everyone dissociates at least a little bit. The common example is when you zone out while driving, yet get to your destination safely, but have little memory of being actively aware during the drive. It’s like that for us but more often. “Get in the giant robot Shinji!” It feels like we are struggling to drive this meat suit body, that will act on auto-pilot if we fail to concentrate and “drive” it. We don’t “switch” personalities very often, I (Roxas) am the ‘host’ and “drive” the most. But sometimes, when I focus, it feels almost like I am not the body itself, I am a seperate entity, giving directions to this autonomous, meat body who would act on baser impulse if not “driven” constantly. Ever catch yourself going into a room or just staring at the open fridge, with no recollection of why you went there? Almost like on instinct/autonomously. 

I don’t know if I am properly expressing/describing their beliefs about our ego and our higher selfs. We need to realize that we are all connected and reduce our egos, to be closer in touch to our higher selves, but I am not here to preach to anyone. We all walk different paths and that is the point. Perhaps another blog entry I will go into more spiritual stuff, as I am learning alot. But I feel like we drastically change in different stages of our lives, who we once were years ago, are dead. Totally different than who we now are, we are still constantly evolving and growing. And in some cases, unfortunately, de-evolving. Perhaps at the end of this life, we will hit the eject button and get to drive a whole new entity/body. Maybe, but in the meantime, we got to keep on trucking.

#dissociative identity disorder #actually dissociative #new age spirituality #ego death #spritualawakening #spiritual awakening #mental illness #blogs #blog

[mirahuyooo]

Set The Night Alight | pjm

Set The Night Alight

— Shining through the city with a little funk and soul, Park Jimin sets your night alight.

Word Count: 2,159 Contents: flUFF, a pinch of AnGST, having fun, y/n be stressin’ but still hustlin’, jimin be sweet af uwu, mention of Hobi, Yoongs, n Kookie, non-idol au, best friends to lovers! au Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

A/N: I planned on posting earlier but uhm... I didn’t eheh This one is heavily inspired by Dynamite! My sister got a great screenshot of Jimin so I made used it for an edit and write this little blurb skskksksks Hope you enjoyed!

[masterlist]

A grimace resurfaced on your face for the umpteenth time as you swerve away from yet another couple eating each other’s face before your very eyes. A frustrated huff left your lips at the inconvenience adding to the ever-growing misfortune you’ve had for the night. Just to your left earlier you had witnessed a crummy-looking drunk getting slapped by a woman for grinding on another girl.

You fled to a less distasteful area of the club, all by your lonesome. This has got to be the worst night out you’ve ever been to—and at the worst day of your life to date, too!

After waking up with nerves raging over test results in anticipation, you forced yourself to be ignorant of the looming sense of disaster you’ve felt since the night before. You wanted to start the day with a positive mental attitude—try to, at the very least. However, you were further tested.

When you arrived late to class after missing the bus, the professor looked at you with a disappointed stare that could rival that of your overbearing parents’. It was then announced to the class the news that you’ve been waiting for since you woke up. As it had turned out, you did fail the test. You didn’t cry, of course—even though part of you wanted to—but it definitely took a toll on you.  

For the rest of the day, anyone who would’ve laid eyes on you could sense the despair lingering in your aura. Your body sagged at the figurative weight you carried on you, as though you were Atlas holding the world on your very back. Your (e/c) eyes blinked as slowly as you responded to the world around you—your mind stuck in a haze that dipped your heart into more emotional baggage.  

Work came after class, as you, of course, had to support yourself for the goals and dreams you had in life. Alas, even the haven you found in the small diner was short-lived. Your ex-boyfriend enters the premises with his monthly new plaything, effectively souring your mood even more. Being the bastard that he is, he reveled at the contrast of your lives and though you didn’t bother to care about aspects, his general presence still irked you.  

“I thought I told you to get rid of that frown, hm?”

Pulled out of your stupor, you lightly jumped with a gasp as you were rendered startled and alarmed by the unannounced presence, until you realized that it was only Park Jimin—resident wild child, fellow diner worker, and best friend of six years. He had the audacity to giggle at your despair, while you recover from the slight scare with a hint of relief.

Your eyebrows furrowed with yet another frown. "I thought I told not to sneak up on me like that, hm?" You snippily countered, landing a smack on his arm to which he let out a yelp at.  

Still, Jimin grins brightly, a little woozy and clearly enjoying himself—a stark contrast to your still sober and still fuming state. He had two glasses of soju with him, setting them down before the two of you and leaning against the tall table on his elbows. "Come on, (Y/N). The night is young. We're young," he urges you, "You should really learn to loosen up."

If you had a dollar for every single time he's told you this phrase, you would have enough money to not be such a sour puss. It's not like you didn't have conception of fun. You, too, can be wild, go party, and dance the night away—albeit not as stunningly as your best friend—but with the fire in you that you're desperately trying to keep alive to spite the world, you found it difficult to easily do so.

Agitated, you ran your hands through the (h/c) hair that you've barely even brushed throughout the day. "A man almost vomited on me while I was out there," you cursed, not really at him, but it still stung nonetheless. You bring the bottle to your lips, wincing a bit at the taste but still gulping. Jimin does the same.

After a moment, you break the silence, fiddling with your fingers. You knew the irritable state you were in wasn’t easy on Jimin—or anyone else really. "I'm sorry, Chim," you sigh, "but you know I really can't be in the mood right now. We should’ve stuck with binging night."

Something about standing in the local pub right now made you feel out of place. Though you know you shouldn't be, you were irking to get going and do something else—something productive. Not that you would’ve been that productive with binging night, but at the very least you would’ve caught up on your current favorite series. Then, you would’ve had more time to do actual fruitful activities.  

You paused for a moment, frowning at your own way of thinking.

For the majority of your life, all you did was hustle. You were uptight, determined with proving yourself and the rest of those who've wronged you that you could be the thriving woman of your dreams, living the life goals you're working ends meat to achieve. The fire in you longed to see the people who abandoned you on their knees, kissing your feet at your success. And so, you move on after moping a little—this day will be yet another testament to such a fighting spirit.

At times you applauded your resilience. You were proud of the things you've managed to move yourself on from. Alas, this meant that you often starve yourself of care and leisure. Jimin knows this brilliant yet damning mindset of yours and constantly tries to ease you into the carefree lands of self-love.

When Jimin had offered you this night out after your shifts, you instantly rejected the offer, like you almost always do. He didn't like the way you held back on having fun, because you thought your mother would find out and her accusations of you going astray in life would spark into yet another rant of you wAsTinG yoUr PotEntiAL.

He does convince you somehow, thus this current situation. You were, however, beginning to regret going out instead of your tradition of breaking down in the confines of your apartment before switching yourself into an auto pilot mode where you work on projects and whatnot for God knows how long.

Your best friend, however, would never want you to feel such a way, especially if he could do something about it. He clapped his hands together. "Come on then," Jimin encourages, catching you off guard as he secured a hold on you by lacing your fingers together.

"What?"

The man before you downs a few swigs of the alcohol and smiles, eyes disappearing into crescents. "Let's go somewhere else," he tells you, matter-of-factly. "The night is young. There are lots of things to do."

You gawked at the sight before you as Jimin danced to the beat, his body moving effortlessly with the street dancer. Instinctively, you, yourself, were swaying to the beat. The crowd that had gathered around you had done the same.

Exiting the club, as it turned out, had been a notable move from the both of you, drastically mending your mood as your night was suddenly set alight by the bustling streets you wandered with your favorite person in the world. This predicament, however, landed before the two of you when you saw a performance going on. Jimin knew the performer—Hoseok, if you recalled correctly—and, in spite of not preparing beforehand, began dancing along to the music. He was doing brilliantly for someone who, about thirty minutes ago, was giggly from slight intoxication.

As the beat came to a drop and Jimin flips his body like it was nothing, cheers erupted from around you. Vigorously clapping along with the crowd, you couldn't care less if your cheeks were starting to hurt.

"Great work!" You beam at your best friend as he shyly walks back towards you with yet another charming grin that wills his eyes to close. "You've improved so much," you say, eliciting a blush from him. Both of you have aching cheeks now, but that didn't matter.

As the crowd began to disperse and he waved goodbye to his friend, Jimin offers an arm to you. “Let’s go?” he muses, still slightly out of breath.

“Go where?” you asked, but linking your arms together anyways.

Jimin says nothing, seemingly pleased with his plans. Butterflies ran amok within you, as his smile promises you more of these spontaneous adventures.  

As the night bled into later hours, the both of you sat in the very diner that you two worked at only hours earlier. Jungkook, who had gotten night shift this day, disappeared into the kitchen after getting your orders.

Feeling better than ever before, you allowed yourself to savor the serenity. Your hands drummed to the beat of the music flowing from the jukebox resting on one corner of the diner with your head swaying along too. Jimin, in front of you, was also lightly dancing in his seat.

Eventually, Jimin stands up to his feet, dancing as he reached out a hand. He comically wiggled his brows, inviting you to dance with him—and you let him.

There were no other customers in the diner, and Yoongi, who had manned the cashier, didn’t really care to be bothered about the shenanigans the two of you were up to. You let out a giggle as Jimin twirls you around.  

At this time, you took it to yourself to look at your best friend. As he often does, he had styled his brown hair back to expose his forehead, causing him to look attractive enough to fool anyone into thinking he's a reckless party animal when reality states that he's a soft gentleman at heart—and you support such a statement.

Park Jimin, with his massive golden heart, has stuck by your side far longer than anyone else in your life. In all of the years you’ve known him, he’s always been one to drop anything to help you with your plights. A sensation fluttered within you, rendering you frozen for a moment as you were confused by said feeling. Jimin, however, continues to goofily dance around you without a care in the world and elicits a snicker from you.

There was a whimsical sense in the air. Dynamite’s retro décor really had the ability to make you feel as though you had travelled back a few decades earlier. With Jimin’s own choice of outfit, the nostalgic effect multiplied tenfold. Could the butterflies in your belly be from the atmosphere of the moment?

“You look beautiful when you’re happy, y’know?”

Jimin’s words knock the air out of your lungs, sending you crashing back to reality. Before you, your best friend stood only a few inches away from your dancing dooming you into such a close position. Your heart once again picks up the pace.

You managed to let out a scoff but fail to counter his statement any further and simply shyly averted your gaze, leaning away to give the two of you some distance. To your shock, Jimin’s hands clutched yours in his hold, his eyes shining like diamonds as he stared into you.

“Chim—”

With the words you planned to say being stolen from you by the lips that captured yours, you couldn’t help but melt. As if on cue, the music’s beat picked up, encouraging your heartbeat to do the same. The emotions within you whirled wildly, setting your body on fire as Jimin pulls you closer. As you had felt his hold loosen, you took the chance to slide your hands up his shoulders and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost into a kiss you never thought to anticipate so much.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away for air, with Jimin grinning like the love-struck fool he was, while you were still in a haze from the kiss. You felt lips on your forehead as he soon pulled you in an embrace.

“(Y/N)?”

Your heart squealed at his voice, prompting you to hug him back tighter. “Hm?”

“I like you.”

With your head buried into his neck, your eyes fluttered to a close as his words bloom an ease in your heart—as if you had reached home after a long exhausting journey. There still existed a sense of surprise in you. You never expected to feel this way towards your best friend.  

Jimin, in spite of his worries from your silence, proceeds to murmur into your hair. “I want you to be happy,” he tells you, “I’d be happy if you let me be the one to make you smile.”

You pull away with a soft smile, eyes glistening with tears.

“You already are.”

#bts au #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff scenarios #bts fluff #BTS jimin #bts jimin imagines #bts park jimin #park jimin #park jimin imagines #park jimin x reader #park jimin fluff

[vikingsarememes]

His True Wife

                                               ↭    part one   ↭                                next part

Main Characters: Ivar the boneless, Reader.

Characters Mentioned: Freydis, Hvitserk 

Summary: you are Ivar’s second wife, the only problem is that no one knows about the two of you. 

Word Count:  1556

A/N: I’m trying something new which is to write an actual full-length story with chapters and all, this is basically the pilot, let me know if you want me to continue the story!

warnings: none

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You and Ivar were married in secret, shortly after he got married to Freydis, he found out about her treason, he also found out he had feelings for someone else, you, you were a friend of the Ragnarssons, a farmer, but not a shieldmaiden, they always teased you about it but you never cared, combat wasn’t what you were passionate about.

The two of you had the perfect relationship, behind all the anger Ivar showed, he was nothing but a sweet, scared, insecure man, who wanted to be loved, be held, be told that he’ll be alright, he wanted to feel wanted, he wanted to feel human, you gave him those feelings, while Freydis, she made him mad, she manipulated him the way she wanted, even a man like Ivar the boneless can be manipulated by a little smile, a few kisses here and there and sweet talks, you hated the woman, she never cared about him, not the way you did at least.

But Ivar swore that you are the one who has his heart, and when the time’s right, he’d make you his queen, you saw him, the real him, while Freydis used him, used his weaknesses to rule, it wasn’t fair, not for him, not for you.

Your husband sneaked into your hut, far away from the center, far away from the noises and knocked on the door, two times, that’s your code, you opened the door and greeted him with a hug and a kiss “my love! You’re back!” you exclaimed, closing the door after he limped inside, the chair was near the fire for him, a glass of mead on the table next to it, but on the left, near the fire to keep it warm, that’s how he liked it, you knew because you cared Freydis would never notice those small details about him.

“I’m finally home” he whispered at you and kissed you back, once again “come, sit with me, I missed you wife” he spoke as he made his way to the chair, sitting down, taking off his leg braces, with you he didn’t need them, he didn’t struggle to prove himself, he was safe and he knew it, that’s why he’d drop the crutches and the braces, that’s why he’d tell you if he’s hurt or sad, that’s why he’d open up to you, and only you.

You sat on his lap and cuddled his chest, he stroked your hair, so gentle, taking his time to treasure every moment “how’s your week been love?” you asked, he sighed and took a deep breath “you are married to a god now, I’m worshipped don’t you know?” he said, laughing at how ridiculous that sounded “I’ve heard stories about Ragnar being descendant of Odin” you shrugged, he shook his head no “Ragnar was nothing but a man, misfortuned man, who couldn’t love” 

“If you think so then why did you agree on being a god?” you looked at him, carefully studying his face, wanting to know whether you stepped out of your lines or not “because she told me I was special” he said, biting his bottom lip, he knew how you hated hearing about her, but he didn’t want to hide anything from you, “I tell you that all the time” you protested, pulling away from him a little bit “it’s different when you say it, you touch my heart makes me know that no matter where I go, I’m special to you and that all that matters, but when she does, she drives my soul mad, she makes me want to prove myself, I hate it” 

“No you don’t Ivar the boneless, don’t mock me for stupid” you demanded, upset “Y/N, please! I think you are a blessing of Freya! Don’t question how I feel about you!” He pleaded desperately “I don’t wish to hear about her” you huffed and he nodded, taking your hands into his, kissing them several times until you crack up a smile “I would do anything for you, and you know that, you are my wife and the love of my life, everyone else is here for a purpose, while you’re here because I love you” he whispered to you, and you sighed “alright, you’re forgiven” he picked the glass and sipped some mead, his free arm wrapped around your slender body, closing the distance between the two of you if it wasn’t for the fabrics.

“What about you? How’s your week?” He asked you rested your head on his chest “my goat, Thrys gave birth to three healthy babies, I named them Fry, Freder and Freyon after the gods, so they bless us with milk and meat! Hvitserk visited as well, he seemed troubled, look after him for me would you?” You looked at him when you said the last sentence, clearly, he wasn’t happy about it “he visits you a lot my brother, don’t you agree?” He said annoyedly “Ivar he’s my friend, he rescued me” you defended.

“Is he now? I wonder if he’s as friendly with you as I was? Or perhaps you enjoy his company for the things he does to you when I’m not around?” You looked at him with disbelief, you stood from his lap and looked at him “I cannot believe you! A week! I heard nothing from you for a week! And that’s how you treat me? With false accusations and disrespect? I’m going to bed. Husband” you growled and walked to your bed, closing the curtain that separated your sleeping area from the living room, you laid under the fur, angry, but mostly hurt of how the love of your life thinks of you.

You could hear Ivar grunting from his place, it didn’t take him long until he crawled to bed next to you, hugging you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder “you are right, I’m a poor excuse of a husband, and I didn’t mean to upset you, I can be a little skeptical about my brother’s intentions, being away from you makes me feel jealous, I don’t like sharing” he mumbled, you turned to look at him “I don’t like sharing too, but I’m doing it for you, that’s how much I love you, yet, you accuse me of having an affair with Hvitserk” you pouted.

“Y/N, please, I said my apologies, I’m only here for a short while and I need my wife, everyone else is angry at me, or trying to hurt me, please, take me to our world where nothing matters” you sighed and turned your body so now you’re facing him “come” you opened your arms and Ivar didn’t need to be told twice, he got under the covers and between your arms, you placed a kiss on his forehead “I wish things  were different, I wish our lives were different and we belonged to each other�� you whispered, he looked at you “we belong to each other” he corrected “perhaps it’s better like this, I feel something bad will happen, and perhaps because no one knows about us, you will survive it” 

His words made you frown, you rarely went to the town, not unless you have goods to sell and other to buy, your farm was filled with everything you need, and the Ragnarssons gave you few slaves to help you with the work, it only made you question how bad it is in Kattegat, and how much Ivar was hiding from you “you will too, right?” you asked, he shrugged “it doesn’t matter love” you sighed and buried your face in his chest as he stroked your hair “they hate me, they think I’m mad, I built walls to defend the city, I did everything to defend us, protect us, yet, they think I’m trying to isolate them, but if I can’t get their love, fear shall do it” he spoke, you knew this can’t be good.

“Ivar… what did you do to Thora?” you asked, remembering what Hvitserk said earlier, about him worrying for her safety “nothing, not as long as Hvitserk leaves Kattegat” he told you you frowned “leave? Ivar why are you sending him away?”, “Are you sad of his depart?” he looked at you, you were unable to believe that the two of you were back to the same point “of course I’m Ivar! We already talked about it!” you huffed, “he wants to kill me” your husband sighed.

“Not everyone wants to kill you Ivar” you protested “true, but Hvitserk does, and I want to be safe, I want to make sure that we are safe, I don’t wish him any harm, I just want him gone” he explained, you knew Ivar had already made up his mind “I don’t wish to speak about it any further if you please” he whispered as he held your body closer to him, you nodded, the two of you cuddled until you fell asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, Ivar was already gone, you hated it, you hated how he had to sneak in like a thief of the night and leave before everyone wakes up, you hated how he can’t spend more time with you, but the heart wants what it wants, and your heart wants Ivar the boneless, the son of Ragnar.

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Tags: (let me know if you want to be tagged for this story) @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg

Gif source: stolen from google images.

#vikings #vikings fanfiction #fanfic #ivar vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar the god #ivar ragnarsson #ragnarssons #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #freydis #his true wife fic #ivar x reader #ivar x you #reader #hvitserk x reader

[honestlywrites]

Clan of Three | Chapter Eight (Din Djarin x Mando!Reader)

Summary: After learning of your partner’s name, you find yourself feeling guilty for not being able to share the same trust and intimacy. As time goes on, you begin to realize the bubbling emotions that come to the surface, making you question your relationship even more. 

Clan of Three Masterlist

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The sound of the Razor Crest soaring through space at lightspeed feels endless, like a void swallowing you whole. The guilt of holding your partner’s name inside your brain and not returning the trust eats away at you, the silence reminding you of your faults. He let you in, showed you his family, and you did nothing to reciprocate the trust. But you did, you did trust him. Right?

Reliving the horrors of your past was jarring, to say the least. Yet, in a way, you felt free. The matronly figure of the Armorer comforted you and your thoughts, for her to be so welcoming was truly a gift. It was secure and safe, almost too much so. You have no doubts about the Mandalorians in the covert and their ability to defend themselves, but every time you dwell on the comfort of finding a family, your past one comes back to haunt you. The creaking of the pilot chair makes you jump in your seat as Din turns to you.

“You can go sleep, I’ll pilot the ship,” his voice is soft, almost as if he fears startling you. You ponder on his offer but quickly shake your head.

“I could not sleep if I wanted to,” you speak, your voice barely coming through the modulator of your helmet. There is a moment of silence before the man in front of you speaks again.

“Why?” This truly was the question. Why could you not forget the screams of your covert? Why could you not forget the image of your mother being ripped away from you? Why could you not forgive yourself for sins you did not commit?

“I apologize if I overstepped in our relationship, I just thought--”

“No, no. You’re fine,” you speak up and look to him, imagining his eyes through the darkness of his visor. “I should be the one apologizing.”

“You did nothing wrong. I don’t understand,” he turns to you fully, allowing the two of you to take in each other. You observe him wholly, taking his intimidating stance and his large stature. All of the bounties that the two of you hunted together came to fear the image of this armored Mandalorian with durasteel the color of blood, but when you truly look at him there is only one thing you see. A friend, maybe something even more. The two of you shared a creed, a culture that bound your souls forever. Truly, it was miraculous and hard to understand, but you had never felt so whole since your last covert.

“I had lost everything,” you mutter, fighting the wetness that threatens to gather in the pools of your eyes. “My covert, they were killed. Not only that but my buir.”

Your voice breaks. Nothing can stop the fat droplets of salty water that drip down your cheeks like streams gushing from the earth. 

“My mother was taken from me, the woman who raised me. I may not have been born a Mandalorian, but she might as well have birthed me herself. She found me when I was a child, left on the roads to be abandoned on the streets. She took me in, raised me as one of her own. I only know the way of the Mandalorians,” the tears flow freely down your cheeks, running down your neck into the fabric of your underclothing. “When this was taken away from me, I was lost and alone, clinging to the creed for comfort. We are warriors and so I took to protect the daughter of a king and queen. She was like my sister, but I had never felt more alone in my entire life. When you appeared that night, of course, I protected her. But I found myself wanting to find you, to know if I wasn’t alone. Now that you have allowed me into your covert, I find myself to be a coward for not even being able to share my name with you.”

Sobs shake your entire body and you wrap your arms around yourself, the whole truth crashing down like a wave threatening to drown you under the guilt. The tears blind you and your vision blurs, the light of space coming together in a mess of lines. Silence consumes the ship once more but you feel the hand of Din rest on your knee fondly, showing you comfort even while he remains silent. You do your best to blink all of the tears out of your eyes, wanting to look at your companion with a full vision. Removing your arms from around your body, you reach down and take his hand in yours, feeling the warmth of him coming off in waves. His hand is much larger than yours and you feel a fondness for the way that his entire being seems to wrap around you in a phantom blanket of understanding. Once the tears dry on your cheeks, the fatigue hits you quickly and soon your eyes droop closed, falling into the comfort of sleep.

This time, visions of your mother do not come. You are not haunted by your past and you are relieved to feel comforted by the gentle embrace of slumber. Your dreams are filled with memories of your life on Mandalore, running around with other younglings as you learn to shoot a bow for the first time and find that the task comes naturally to you. Smiling, you hug your buir as she praises you for shooting the bow accurately, and rewards you with an extra pastry during supper time. 

Waking up from your nap, you find yourself lying in the bed. Your limbs are slightly stiff from having your armor cling to your body for so long, but the thought of Din lifting you and carrying you to bed sets off warmth in your heart, a foreign feeling. Sitting up from the plush mattress, you notice the lack of movement from the ship and infer that you have reached your destination. For the first time in your life, the comfortable mattress was soothing rather than alarming, that you felt safe enough to not be on guard. You stand and walk out, finding that your partner is nowhere to be seen. Climbing down the stairs, the ramp is open and lets in a roll of cool air from the forest that you appear to be camping in. Your boots make a clunking noise as you descend the ramp and notice a small fire just outside the ramp with Din carefully tending to it.

“You’re awake,” he muses, looking up at you approaching him.

“Thank you for carrying me to the bed, it was much more comfortable than waking up with a stiff neck,” you state and smile, watching him nod in response. “Well, I’ll just wait on the ship for my dinner.”

“No!” Din’s sharp voice startles you slightly as you jump from the suddenness. “I mean, I enjoy your company, you can take it in when it’s done cooking.”

You slowly nod and take a seat next to him, watching the bright orange embers dance and light up the camp around you as the sun sets on the eastern horizon. The crackles and pops of the wood fill the air as you sit in comfortable silence.

 “I was a foundling too,” you turn your head in Din’s direction as he speaks, feeling the uncertainty of his words. “My mother and father were killed by droids and the Mandalorians saved me from the same fate.” His words are short and come out sharply but the willingness sits out in the open, an invitation to be vulnerable around him. He wears his battle-hardened demeanor on his sleeve, obviously closed off to the world after years of having to hunt bounties to help the covert thrive and to secure the sanctity of the creed, but his weariness of the world, of people, shows his fear of intimacy. The fire continues to crackle on, wanting you to continue the conversation. A stone of fear rolls in your stomach, but you shove it away and find words to say.

“We may have been trained together, then,” you state, thinking back to the times when you were free to roam without a helmet. These memories make you long to remove the purple durasteel, to simply be around other beings. This was not the way, though. 

“Perhaps,” he mumbles and uses a stick to turn over the meat that roasts at the side of the fire. Your partner portions out food on two large leaves that were native to the planet you were on. They served very well as plates and as the smell of the fresh food wafts into your helmet, you find your mouth begins to salivate as your stomach grumbles.

“Thank you,” you smile and gently pat the shoulder of Din, standing and walking back to the ship to enjoy your meals separately. In the low lighting of the bedroom, you finally take your helmet off and expose your face to the air around you. It is crisp and cold, filling your lungs and chilling your body only to energize it from the freshness of the oxygen. You eat quickly, humming in satisfaction from the sharp spices that hit your tongue. The planet you landed on must have some fresh spices and herbs because the meal dances on your tastebuds, exciting your senses for the first time in a while. Rations did get old quickly. A smile plays on your lips as you find yourself licking the leaf for the remaining food. Sometimes always eating alone yielded benefits that many did not entertain. 

Leaning against the frame of the bed, you find yourself getting lost in your thoughts. It was now a habit, for Din was rarely a talker. Perhaps this is why you find yourself thinking about him, trying to understand him through everything you could pick up. He did care about you, though. This much was obvious. From the way that he cared for you when the blaster tore into your skin from the trust that came with his name, he was letting you into his life. Months ago, he barely let you pilot the ship, but now there was something more than a simple friendship. Was this, no it could not be. Your heart pounds deeply in your chest and you pull your helmet on quickly to hide from the world. Warmth bubbles to your cheeks and the flushness of your skin was concealed by emotionless durasteel, at least this was what you hoped it did. Walking out of the room and down the ladder to the ramp, you pause for a moment before the fire comes into your vision.

“Are you done?’ you ask, even closing your eyes out of fear.

“Yes,” Din’s voice appears in front of you and you jump from the closeness of his presence, having snuck up on you when your eyes were closed. A soft chuckle escapes him and you playfully push his shoulder.

“Don’t do that, I was trying to be polite,” you growl at him, no menace in your words. He laughs once again, a full-bodied laugh that requires him to hold his stomach. You smile and shake your head, sighing as the fire slowly begins to die out.

“We must go out at night,” he states after recovering from his laughter, walking up to the weapons locker and opening it up to pick at his array of weaponry.

“Why?” you ask, grabbing your compound blaster and slinging it over your shoulder to hang comfortably. 

“This target is nocturnal and while it would be easier to strike while they sleep, I’m not that cruel,” he states and you shake your head, grabbing a small knife to strap to your thigh.

“You’re a bounty hunter, that’s pretty ruthless,” you muse and close the locker.

“So are you, but you’re the furthest from being heartless,” your breath catches in your throat at the comment and you flush, once again thanking the helmet for hiding your embarrassment from the world. 

“Let’s go,” you mumble shyly and begin to exit the ship. Din follows closely behind you, closing the ramp before the two of you embark on your journey to the small town. The stars shine brightly, lighting up the forest as they glitter above. Perhaps if you stared long enough, you could get lost in the array of lights, each signifying a star or a planet. Such small things reminded you of how vast the galaxy truly is. 

Just like your partner had said, the small town was booming with creatures that you were unfamiliar with. They did speak Basic though and were not afraid to voice their thoughts as the two of you marched through the town on a hunt to find the bounty. He is found playing Sabbac at the small cantina that sits in the middle of the town, gambling away all his money. This was the same action that caused him to gain a target on his back. He pushes all the credits into the center when you and Din enter the establishment, all eyes settling on the two of you. At this point, the attention does not bother you and you easily find your way to the bounty. 

“A female Mandalorian? Interesting,” the bounty mutters. He is not good-looking, at least to you, with his dry scaly skin and beady eyes. The man looks you up and down and the action itself violates you in a way that makes your body cringe.  Din quickly slams down the puck, the noise startling the man in his place. 

“We can bring you in warm, or we can bring you in cold,” Din’s voice is low, lower than usual, but you brush it aside and watch the bounty smile up at you.

“To be taken by such a full-bodied lady is a compliment in itself,” the man grins up at you and you shake your head, beginning to get the binders out when Din slams the head of the man into the table, effectively knocking him out. 

“Let’s go,” he grumbles, picking up the man and beginning his trek back to the ship. You grab the punk and follow behind quickly, hiding your amusement. While you may have been disgusted by the foreign man, the curiosity gets the best of you when you replay the events that occurred in the cantina. Perhaps Din was fatigued from the journey. After all, he did pilot the entire flight and probably lost his temper, yet another thought plays at the edge of your mind. 

The path back to the ship is quick and you follow behind your partner, you watch him walk up the ramp and slam the bounty into the carbon freezer, punching in the command to freeze the man. You pause behind him and watch, a frown settling in your forehead.

“Are you okay?” you ask, slowly walking up behind him. Din remains silent as he watches the man freeze in the metal.

“He was disrespectful toward you,” he turns to look at you and you smile, shaking your head.

“It’s not the first time a man has been rude to me,” you start and gently take Din’s hand in yours. “Besides, I can handle myself.”

You playfully tap the forehead of your helmet to his, watching him recoil from the harsh movement. Moving into the ship, you hang your weapon up on the wall beside the locker. 

“I’ll fly, you sound like you need a nap,” you turn back and shoot him a cheeky smile before crawling up the ladder into the cockpit. 

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #dyn jarren x reader #dyn jarren #baby yoda #kuiil #cara dune #greef karga #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars is the way

[pazvizslaplasmathrower]

Fallen Angel! Chapter 4

Poe Dameron x Reader (gender neutral)

Read here or on AO3 (the other chapters are her too btw)

Part 4: Captive (?)

A/N: I hope you enjoy!  As much as I would like to as an 18+ part of this story, I have no idea how to write sex scenes unless someone would like to collaborate. Let me know what you think or what suggestions you may have! I am also taking requests and questions about works!

*___*___*

“What do you have that for?” Claude asked, pulling back her curly mane.

“It's some metal from his ship.” You sighed. “I thought he might like a keepsake, this is the only decent piece I could find, the rest is just twisted junk.”

“What's your plan for the evening? You could stay at my place while the outsider is in your home. And of course Ravio is always welcome.”

“Thanks for the offer but I'd like to keep an eye on him as well as my house. He's not the sort that stays still very long...W-Which actually reminds me...”

“What?” Claude stopped, lightly gripping your shoulders. “I don't like it when you trail off like that. Kark! Just say it.”

“I never had a single vision this week, not even this kriffing month!” Clenching your jaw, you could see Claude's face start to fall. “He was able to make it here without exploding in the atmosphere.”

Your friend paused, looking away for a good moment to collect herself before gently patting your head. “It's not your fault, Y/N.”

“Yes it is. Since I started, we haven't missed a year, I guess I just got sloppy.”

“Are you joking? Please be joking. Stars, Y/N, something has to be wrong, because this would be the first year you've missed the Opening. Besides, you're the youngest yet, so one year won't hurt.”

Reluctantly, you nodded, not fully believing her. “You'll be okay letting the council know? Some of them were really looking forward to the freedom.”

Claude snorted. “The twenty-four hour freedom? I'd hardly call it that.”

“What was it like when you went?”

She set the pace, her long strides a feat to match. “Hm. I was so young I hardly remember much of what happened except for the visit to Coruscant. There were so many people, like everyone in the whole galaxy had come to this one planet!”

Rubbing your hands together, you wondered what it would be like to live in a place where the temperature was just slightly warm.

“I just wish she could've been smarter and flown us back as soon as the errands were taken care of. Guess that's why I select the pilots now...Hey, maybe try the temple. Maybe for once that old place will have some kriffing answers.”

The rest of your walk home was relatively quiet, though time spent with Claude did not always require action. Simply going about your business in the other's presence was peaceful. Memories of reading sacred texts, while Claude trained vigorously in the the woods made up a good portion of your childhood. Of course your master had made you hone your own offensive skills, but using weapons had never been a great talent of yours.

After bidding Claude a peaceful evening, you departed to your home, still wracking your brain for a civil approach. Opening the door, a wave of warmth washed all over, making shedding your coat all the more refreshing.

“Good boy,” You whispered to Ravio, thinking your guest was fast asleep. “Let's get something to eat, okay?”

“Can a guy get something to eat too?”

Startled, you jerked awkwardly. “Force! I thought you-You should be asleep!”

Poe Dameron smirked. “Kinda hard to get shut eye when you're running on empty.”

“Sorry...” You breathed, walking quickly into the small kitchen. “Do you have any restrictions?”

“Nah, guess I'm lucky. If I'm honest I'd eat a womprat at this point.”

At that you let out a small laugh, covering your face with one hand. Against better judgment, you stole a look at Poe to find his smile had widened, one brow raised.

“Heh, well you won't have to be doing that.”

Thankful to have a reason to look away, you turned to your conservator, gathering ingredients for a hearty stew. You meticulously selected the appropriate meats and vegetables, that would best promote a healthy recovery.

“Not that I don't love this place and the hospitality? Amazing. But, is there a port around these parts? A guy's got places to be y'know?”

“Oh. How soon do you need to leave?” Your hands worked the knife with haste.

“As soon as possible, I guess. I know I'm a little worse for wear, but it wouldn't be the first time flying like this.”

Sliding everything into one pot, you set it above the fire to cook naturally. To sate Poe's current hunger you picked up a clean Jorgan fruit slowly walking over, your throat feeling rather tight. Gratefully, he took the fruit, biting into it with gusto.

“Leaving,” You started, sitting cross-legged a good distance from the bed, “is rather complicated.”

Poe swallowed his last bite, narrowing his eyes at you. “What the hell does that mean?”

Next to you, the fire began to crack and pop, sending sparks flying.

“You...I...As far as I know, you won't be able to leave. Even if you tried.”

“This isn't funny. I have to leave this rock as soon as possible! I'm serious! This isn't funny!”

Such a reaction was expected, no sane person would be delighted to find that they had crash landed on a nearly deserted planet, unable to leave until the same time next year. As frustrated as you were, the next few words would have to be calm and reassuring, sweat was trickling down the poor man's forehead, trailing around the carefully placed bandages.

“There are no ports, no cities, or districts here. You're on Tython, the atmosphere only lets people lave once a year. Ships we do have, though if any of us were to pilot it out, it wouldn't make it into space before exploding into millions of pieces.”

“So you have ships then?” His eyes darted to the door every so often.

After a second, you nodded, very much disliking the hope that suddenly radiated from him.

“If I could just...Do you have communications? You have to have something!”

You shrugged. “Yeah. They're not much good.”

“Let me just try to get through to my friends! I can pay for a ship, no problem!”

Poe Dameron continued his spirited plan while you quietly slipped a datapad from a shelf.

“If it's the storm you're worried about, I'm not such a bad pilot, I should be able to make it out into space with hardly a scratch!” He paused. “Why aren't you saying anything? Y/N? C'mon you're scaring me.”

Still maintaining a polite distance, you sat next to him on the bed. “It's not the storms.” You pulled up a taped holovid from several years ago. “Someone thought as you do now. Except that he decided to string others along with him.”

Your heart twisting, you played the video, looking from the corner of your eye to gauge his reaction. Nearly everyone on Tython had lived to see this, save the babies and young children. And no one desired to recollect on the matter.

The sky had been a bright baby blue, gentle and brilliant all at once. The man had insisted on this journey, ignoring not only your master and Claude's sister, but his own parents. So sure of his mission, the youth decided to document his venture, a memory to be envied and cherished. Haughtily, he secured a device on the inside of the canopy, to transmit the feed back to those grounded souls.

One could see from the view of the pilot as the ship bolted into the sky, climbing higher and higher until the Y-Wing was but a speck in a sea of blue. You half expected to see it vanish into space altogether, but it was not to be. The Opening had occurred but three months prior. From your spot atop the roof of the house, you watched as a brilliant red bloomed, shards of black bursting forth in the sudden wake of the explosion. The feed had cut almost instantly, saving anyone from hearing the few lives being snuffed out prematurely. Still, there was no forgetting the chorus of sorrow derived from those lamenting the family and friends they had just lost.

“That doesn't make sense.” Poe murmured, grabbing the datapad from you. “Everything was clear, they should have made it! It must have been something with the engine or the cooling system...”

“That fool made sure his ship was immaculate.”

Feeling rather dismal, you removed the pot from the fire, bringing it to the kitchen.

“Nothing is perfect. I'll be different! Just let me take one of your ships, please!”

With heavy eyes, you regarded him carefully. “We hardly have any as it is. Since we can only leave once a year, only the most experienced leave to bring back supplies and the like. Besides, we are not very populous.”

The man rolled his eyes, setting the pad down, scrunching his nose just a bit. “If the damn sky opens once a year, why don't you all just get the hell out of here?”

Your grip on the bowl hardened, clenching your jaw you shoved the food at Poe. “Some of us can't. Others have no reason to leave.”

“That doesn't even- Look, sweetheart, I'm sure your home has some pretty hot pilots, but I'm willing to bet, none of them could out fly me.”

“You don't have to be a great pilot, even if you were-”

“Next clear day, you're gonna watch me leave this rock.” He almost snarled.

“We're not letting you take one of our ships!”

“You're not going to keep me here like a hostage!”

“It's not my fault!”

“Then let me GO!”

The sudden raise in his voice made you jerk away. Poe seemed to realize he startled you, and his face softened, mouth opening to say something, but no words came out. Hastily you stood, rushing for the door, grabbing your coat and shoes, planning to put them on outside then linger inside for even a moment longer.

Once you were adequately dressed, you stomped furiously, feeling the heat of your anger warm your body. Under the pale moonlight, the path to the town hangar was clear. If that dogmatic flyboy wanted to leave so badly then by all means why not provide him with his shot after taking the time to piece him back together. The lengthy walk and frigid chill cooled your mood, though your decision had been made.

“Hey, kid! What brings you out here? Don't you have like books to read and magic to do?”

Giving a tired smile, you greeted Emilio with a brief hug, not wanting to soil your clothes with oil.

“I have a problem, Emilio,” you sighed, closing the door of the hangar. For being built directly into a mountain, it was surprisingly silent.

Your friend winced, scratching lightly at the skin of his neck. “This wouldn't be about that rebel, would it?”

“Kark. Did Claude already hold the meeting?”

He nodded, pulling off his goggles. “The people understand, but they're still angry. Not so much at you. Claude reasoned we could go one year without sending someone out. They're angry at that damn pilot. His ship took out a good deal of the crops.”

Another headache started to form. Peering over Emilio's handiwork, you had to admire his ability to bring new life to something as dead as an Old Republic A-Wing.

“Stars...This looks fresh.” You marveled. “Except for the paint, but its perfect.”

He laughed nervously, scratching himself. “Aw, it's not much and I've got the rest of those junked up ships to get through.”

Emilio gestured behind him, the cavern-turned-hangar stretched back far, holding star ships that would have ordinarily been scrap. The people of Tython could not afford that.

“Damn. I forgot how many there are.” Reminded of the reason for your visit, you snapped to attention. “As wizard as your work is, that's not why I'm here.”

“Oh thank the stars. I though you were coming in here to tell me you had a premonition...”

“Look,” You started, “The pilot who crashed is staying with me. He's one stubborn bastard and didn't take the explanation well.”

Your friend laughed awkwardly. “Who the hell does?”

“Besides the point. He wants out, and he wants it bad. I got the feeling he's the type to try and snag one of the working ships when the guard is down.”

Emilio's usually pleasant face grew quite grave, his grip on his spanner growing so tight, his knuckles cracked.

“We have our communications in here, so if you could just set it up so the signal reaches further. If he can contact his friends, then they can try to break through.”

Twirling the tool in his hands, he slid down to sit against the ship. “Are you gonna tell them about the skies or...”

“Well, of course!” You said exasperatedly. “I'm not going to let anyone fly at lightning speed right to their own death if I have any say.”

Emilio agreed to help, and in exchange, you would prepare for him a slew of remedies to ease the pain in his joints and soothe his skin.  Unable to bear the awkward situation with Poe Dameron back at your own home, you were granted permission to stay the night in the hangar. A pang of guilt struck you, realizing that Ravio was back at home, though  at least someone would keep an eye on the house while you were a ways off. After setting up a hammock, you wrapped yourself loosely in a bundle of blankets, strangely passing out as your body went lax.

Usually sleeping for long periods of time was a bad sign; there was no proof, just superstition. So when you felt your hammock shaking, a feeling of dread made your heart beat faster. Still very much groggy, it was a feat to push yourself up and focus on Emilio who looked worriedly at you with panicked eyes.

“Kids f-found him in the center of town! The kriffing guy is trying to get around and asking for a ride!”

“Wh...What?”

He offered no explanation, but hurried off, leaving you to stumble out of bed, very much disheveled. Silently, you swore up a storm trudging your way from the hangar, thankful for yet another cloudy day, any sunshine would have been blinding. The winding path seemed longer in your tired stupor and the commons were a welcome sight. And very suddenly you understood Emilio's reaction. The man was clinging to one of the two chairs in your home, using it as an unorthodox crutch to move forward bit by bit.

“Hey!” You cried out. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Fury fully rousing you from your sleep, you marched right over to Poe Dameron hands on your hips, glaring down at the man who offered a sheepish smile.

“Hey, kid! I was wondering where you went, so I, uh, thought I'd go looking for ya!”

“Save it!” Your connection to Claude proved helpful. “I suggest you stay still.”

Poe let out an awkward yelp as Claude's strong arms wrapped around his waist with ease, pulling him taut.

“I'm not some kid! Put me down! Are you crazy?”

Your friend failed to flinch once as she strode back to your home, while you carried the chair in one arm. Once back inside the warmth of your house, Claude set Poe down just a bit too rough. Though the pilot was injured, you were still quite upset with him. Sluggishly you set the chair near the bed and faced Poe with a rather cold expression.

“Did you actually believe in your mind that anyone in this village was going to just hand you a ship?”

“I was thinking someone would be kind enough -HNGH!”

In his own frustration, the pilot tried to shift forward, only serving to irritate his already stressed and broken leg.

“Here. Hold still or else you'll make it worse...” As you fixed the wrappings, Claude took your seat.

“Did you tell him?” She asked, frowning slightly.

“Of course, but he doesn't believe me. Surprise, surprise...”

“You guys are not gonna keep me here like some kind of prisoner!” He growled. “There has to be a way off this kriffing planet!”

Feeling your head spin, you finished patching things up before scooting back. “I...I said you could try and contact anyone you need to in this system. We're not going to let you destroy any of our ships, so if you're so intent on getting out, then you can let your friends try.”

Your words had been curt and sharp, as well as a good deal louder than intended which was becoming a common theme. Truthfully you wished he could go home as soon as he wished, there was the hidden desire to know more of the mysterious pilot, though now was not the time. To be able to go beyond this single planet for more than a day would be...beyond transformative at a level you could not yet comprehend, let alone imagine. But this was not your destiny. It had been taught to you intensely and in spite any childhood desires, you were reminded of the impossibility. So to keep any hopes from merely forming, you were not allowed to even be considered as a passenger or pilot for the Opening of the Skies. So you knew the feeling of wanting to leave. At least this Poe Dameron could live beyond the atmosphere.

“I-I can actually send a message?” Poe asked wide eyed.”

Laying back on the floor you stared at the ceiling. “Of course. I told you that. I was going to bring you to our hangar where the comms hub is, but then you had to take my furniture and make a break for it.”

“Cause' I thought you were keeping me here an she threatened me!” He pointed a finger behind you.

With a small smirk you looked back at Claude who shrugged.

“What? Don't look at me like that, Y/N. I can tell he's trouble, I told you. And you saw what he did.”

Once again, you let you head fall back. “We can go to the hub.” You decided.

The pilot gave a small cheer. “Thank Maker...”

“But, I need to go to the basin. I haven't been able to take care of myself much the past few days.”

Claude nodded approvingly though your guest was more interested than put off by this delay.

“A basin? So water? Stars, I need a bath.”

He rambled on about his current state, lamenting the lack of accommodations, though he had been through far worse. On the other hand, you gave your friend a look of fright, her awkward grimace confirming what you had taken away from Poe's relief.

“Must you, right this second?” She asked. “I have work to do now, so I should be going.”

Lightly biting your tongue, you relented. “I'll take him myself then.”

“Can't you just wait!? Wait so I'll be able to go with you for Force's sake!”

“Just...I can handle it myself. Trust me, I'll be fine. Plus, I may not be the best in combat, but even you know I put up a damn good fight.”

#sw #star wars #sw series #sw fic #sw fiction #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #poe dameron #poe #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron/reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameorn x reader #y/n #y/n insert #reader insert #star wars reader inset #star wars y/n insert #gn reader #gender neautral reader

[comfeyworks]

Alastor writing/ Character ref sheet

NOTE: This is MY interpretation/ notes of my characterization of Alastor. Most is speculation and the other parts are just me having fun imagining what his character could be like. This is no way meant to be official or taken as cannon in any way.

A wonderful user by the name of dolly moon complied a lot of information from Viv’s streams. I’m referencing some of the information here so please check them out, they did a fantastic job making notes.

Warning: Contains talk about murder, cannibalism and other possible triggering subjects.

General

---NAME: Alastor--- Died: 1933 Age: 30′s Occupation: Former radio host and serial killer. Currently powerful overlord in hell

Main Personality/ notes

Always smiling (He sees people frowning as weak)

Sadistic

Charming and charismatic

Very proud( puffed out chest, arms behind back)

He's controlling/ does things his own way

Careful! He's not too braggy, or too forceful/ demanding. Ex: Viv stated in her qna that the pilot was originally going to have Alastor boast about himself and his backstory. Instead vaggie narrates his backstory. She changed this because Alastor wasn’t the type of person to flaunt his achievements. He knows that everyone knows how powerful he is, he’s not the type to rub it in. He's supposed to be charming, but still proud, juuuust in the right way

He knows what he wants, but doesn’t necessarily brute-forces his way to get it. Ex: "He-" "-llo!" He KNOWS he's getting in hotel regardless, but waits for Charlie to open up the door before invading the hallway.

Deceitful; When asked why he wants to help out at the hotel, he says: "Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!" 'This is what you can think my reason is...' is essentially what he's saying. He answers Charlie’s question in a roundabout way that givers her what she wants to know while still keeping his true intentions secret. Time and time again, he lets his mask down slightly when Charlie isn’t looking. At 24:10 he narrows his eyes when she has her back turned to him At the beginning of his song he distracts her with magic so he can push Vaggie away. When he says “...And it’s just laughable-” during he reprise he turns away from Charlie to say this, he leans down to Vaggie.

He’s a hypocrite (hates being touched, invades other’s personal space)

Watches people do things the hard way and then reveal he can do it once it's done just to watch people fuck up

DELIGHTS in watching people failing/ struggling to do things. He likes observing people/ sinners as they are battling with their conflicted emotions.

He’s curious (He stopped by the ‘radio shack’ place to see what Charlie was talking about on the broadcast, and cocked his head when she started singing. To me that meant, “Oh? What’s this now? Something new?” he was intrigued and wanted to know more)

He analyzes people. He looks at the Magne family portrait when left alone. You can briefly hear him playing Charlie’s “Inside of every demon is a rainbow” song, and smiling.

He picks up on things quickly. Vaggie makes it clear she doesn’t like the idea of him being there, and he messes with her. He puts his elbow on her and pushes her away ( 20:44-20:48) He pulls her chin up and tells her to ‘smile’

He’s egotistical. No one is really ‘up to his level’

He gives verbal and physical affection constantly throughout the pilot, but it’s not genuine.

Likes being unpredictable

Primary drive:   Decisions are weighed in his own wants/ feelings. He wants to be amused, he chases exciting/ entertaining things. Think of him as like a cat chasing a mouse.

Fears: He doesn’t fear anyone. But is wary of powerful threats. He dislikes dogs Physical Expression: He’s VERY, VERY expressive through his body language and eyes. Large/ easy to read emotions can be perceived through his body language (Leaning towards someone, or leaning away). Smaller/ pinpoint emotions can be read through his eyes and type of smile (Wide eyes, squinted, closed vs open smile, etc.) He’s like a bird, fluffing out his feathers constantly. (He fixes his hair briefly at 24:41) He expresses himself proudly. ‘This is who I am, remember that!!’. Viv said the reason why almost all of characters have nicknames is that a soul’s real name is dangerous, its a way others can have power over you. Yet Alastor uses his first name, because he’s not scared and confident in who he is as a person. He doesn’t hide from any aspect of himself. I’ve stated he hates being touched by others. When he picks up Nifty in the pilot, she poofs out and spreads her limbs out. At 25:41, Alastor turns his head away from her briefly so she doesn’t touch him.

Flaws/ Weaknesses:

(Note: Basically anything already stated can be a problem depending on the situation, I’m just saying things about his character that he’d find weak or naturally cause problems)

His mother, he’d do anything for her.

He has a darker/ more powerful demon side to him where he runs purely on instinct/ primitive emotions.

He’s arrogant. This can cause problems!

---

Killer/ moral compass profile (Living)

Motivations:

Thrill Killer- Pleasure from pain

Slight power/control aspect involved as well.

‘Causes’

Childhood trauma (abusive father)

Environmental factors (mother died when he was 18-20)

Type of killer: *Note: I’m still not 100% satisfied with this part, I might make some changes later*

He won’t just kill anyone. They have to meet a certain list of requirements.

Viv compared him as someone similar to Dexter

He’s a very goal oriented killer. Whatever he did it was with reason and purpose, meticulously planned. Ex: Maybe one year he’d kill someone who was a real jerk, to see how the others around him flourished. Likewise he might kill someone who was important to the community just to see how the grief made everyone react.

He was a very careful killer, he ended up dying purely on accident, bad luck.

He killed for the fun of it, pure joy, excitement, curiosity. But he only killed people he thought deserved it.

He considers what he does to be ‘work’. He expresses in the pilot how after decades in hell it’s become ‘mundane’ and ‘aimless’.

The victims had to be overconfident to some degree.(This ties into the ‘he wouldn’t chase his victims.’ They had to be somewhat full of themselves or naive)

Some kills are personal (Someone wronging him, trying to hurt him, otherwise he just wouldn’t care if some guy is an asshole) but others are just because he feels like they’re bad/ they’ve have done something that they need to die for.

He used ‘personal’ ways of killing people. (Knife, his hands). I don’t think he would have used a gun of any kind because of the noise, but he could have once every blue moon.

Generally doesn’t draw things out for too long ”...If I wanted to hurt anyone here... I would have done so already.” (He defeats Sir Pentious in under a minute. But still takes the time to crush him and drag his body across the floor.)

He ate people, and knew how to make delicious meals out of them.

Buried his victim’s bodies/ remains on a hunting ground for deer.

Morals

No human is pure or kind just because. They’re selfish beings. Who take and act to help their own causes. Everyone is a monster on the inside. “...redemption, the nonexistent humanity!”

Everyone puts on a mask to hide who they truly are. Life is one big game to see who can survive. “...the world is a stage! And the stage, is a world of entertainment!”

People don’t change “...there is no undoing what is done.”

Puts himself first, and above everyone else. He also degrades others. “I don’t think there’s any hope left for such loathsome sinners...” ”Inside of every demon is a lost cause, but we’ll dress them up for now with just a smile!” “...and show these simpletons some proper class and style...” “...do I know you?” “You think I’m [husk] some kind of fuckin’ clown!?” “...maybe!”

People deserve the consequences they get for being themselves “...the chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this!”

He understands what society views as good and evil, but doesn’t really believe in those standards himself. What is considered evil he just views as a hobby or something fun to explore. Ex: Cannibalism is wrong by society’s standards, but to him he thinks the greater wrong is killing something and not making use of it.

He has some level of empathy. (Again, He’d never kill a child or those running away.)

People’s emotions are a fun little game to him. “...I want to watch the scum of the earth struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip, and tumble down into the firey pit of failure!”

Doesn’t see value in being nice or honest. (He does find it funny to watch)

Other notes/ hc

He’s knowledgeable. In more ways than one. He knows not to fuck with certain people if he doesn’t want to get hurt, he’s got knowledge on the workings/ operations of hell and deal-making.

Likes to cook

He likes bitter things (Bloody meat, alcohol, black coffee)

He’s got a party side to him.

He speaks french!

He plays musical instruments

He knows how to fight without his powers

He’s an only child

He’s part creole

He hates silence, he always surrounds himself with noise of some kind.

Husk and Alastor have a long, complicated relationship

He does things to make Nifty happy (Wearing sweaters)

He’d go out into a hurricane just to let it beat him down for fun (Why is this so funny to me)

Despite all he is, Alastor is capable of having friends and loving.

Has absolutely NO romantic experience.

He hates modern technology in general, but hates tik tok the most

The idea of Alastor cross-dressing to lure his victims in is absolutely hilarious to me, but I don’t think he’d ever do it.

#i made this to help me write him #alastor is deceivingly difficult to write if you dont understand him #and he's WAY more complicated than you'd think #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #writing

[flightlessangelwings]

Trust and Intuition

Chapter 3- Emotions

The Mandalorian x fem!Reader

Link to masterlist in bio, fic also tagged

The children all stared up at you in awe. You kept your identity a secret to protect them, and they never would have guessed that it was the queen herself that protected them. Murmurs ran through the group of about a dozen children before they remembered what they wanted to show you.

“Look, look!” one of the little girls said excitedly as she led you to the child, “The Mandalorian has a baby!”

You pat the girl on the head as you kneeled down at meet the child’s eye. He looked at you and as soon as your eyes met, wide smile brightened his little face. You smiled back at him as you reached your hand out to him.

“Do you know what he is?” you heard Mando’s voice behind you.

“I’ve never seen anything like him before,” you replied to him without turning around. Something about this baby had you completely captivated. Not only was he adorable, but his eyes seemed to look directly into your soul. It was as if he could see things you could not. 

He reached out to you, and you could tell he wanted you to pick him up. Happily, you complied and lifted him off the perch he stood on and sat him in your lap. The children all got quiet as you and the child looked at each other. 

The child stretched his arms up to your face, and you bowed your head down so he could reach. As soon as his little hands touched your forehead, you felt a rush of emotions and could you see an image of your father in your mind. You broke away from his touch in a panic.

You tried to hide your alarm from everyone as you handed the baby to one of the older kids. You bit your thumbnail as you walked to the edge of the cliff with a blank expression on your face. The children all went back to fawning over the baby, and it was only Mando that watched you. 

“You ok?” he asked as he came to stand next to you.

“Where did this kid come from?” you answered with a question of your own.

“It’s a long story,” Mando briefly explained his target-turned-foundling story.

You chuckled, “So you have a habit of saving kids?” you smiled faintly. Clearly something was still on your mind, and Mando could tell you were avoiding it.

“Apparently,” he rested his arms in front of him. He stood next to you in silence for a few minutes as you both gazed over the horizon.

You exhaled sharply and broke the silence, “I’ve never seen a power like this in person before.”

The bounty hunter turned to you, “Power?”

“He gave me a vision. And I could feel,” you paused, “All these emotions,” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“What did you see?” there was genuine concern in his voice.

“My father,” you could feel his gaze on you, but you kept yours straight ahead. You hadn’t thought about your father or your past in a long time, and it shook you to be reminded of it.

Mando knew there was more to it than this, but he decided not to push the subject any further. You two stood in a comfortable silence as you watched the sun in the distance. You could hear the children behind you, and this was the most you heard them laugh in a long time. While lost in thought, you realized what had to be done and you brought yourself back to the present.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked.

“We wait for nightfall, then we get these kids out of here,” he answered, “Take them somewhere safe.”

You finally turned to him, and the tension melted away from your face. You opened your mouth to say something, but commotion behind you cut off your thoughts. One of the kids ran up to you and called your name.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you put your hands on his shoulders.

The child took a breath before he answered you, “Bad guys, down there.”

You and the Mandalorian turned to each other before you both lept into action, “Looks like we don’t get to wait until night,” you commented with urgency in your voice.

He was quick to get back into battle mode, “Get the kids on the ship. I’ll cover you,” he said as he pulled his blaster out.

Immediately, your focus went to keeping the children safe as you did as the Mandalorian said. You scooped up his young child into your arms to keep him safe as you directed the rest to the ship. From down the hill, you could hear shots fired, and you tried to keep everyone quiet to stay hidden. 

As you got the last couple kids onto the ship, you could see Mando run back up the hill. You didn’t see anyone behind him, but you had a bad feeling that this wasn’t over just yet.

“We gotta go,” he said as you all hurried abroad, “Strap the kids in.” He then disappeared up into the cockpit and left you in the hull with all the little ones.

You couldn’t see anything, but you could hear the engine start up. You wasted no time and helped each child buckle into the row of seats that sat along the wall. To be more efficient, you sat some of the smaller ones into the older one’s laps. As the ship shook from take off, you could hear more sounds: other fighter ships.

The sounds of the children’s cries mixed with the sound of Mando firing on the enemy ships filled the space. Truth be told, you were just as afraid as the children, but you kept your face as level as possible and focused on keeping them strapped in and safe. The ship rocked around as the bounty hunter evaded fire, and you held on to a post with one arm with the child still tightly tucked in your other arm.

Suddenly, a small explosion rocked the ship. The children all screamed as you stared in horror at the small fire on the far end of the cargo area. You tightened your grip on the child as your body flung back against a wall.

“Mando! We’re hit!” you called up once you were able to take a breath. You hated how helpless you felt in the situation; you knew all you could really do is keep the kids from flying about the space. You could only hope that this bounty hunter was as good as the stories said.

The child stared at the growing fire and you could feel the determination in that tiny body as he tended in your grasp. He lifted his arms up and focused all his energy to the damaged hull. You and the rest of the kids all watched in awe as the metal seemed to move on its own and the ship seemed to repair itself. With wide eyes, you looked down and saw the child concentrating intently in your arms.

With one last shake, the mandalorian’s child managed to completely repair the damage, and it was as if nothing had hit the ship in the first place. Everyone in the room was in such shock, none of you realized that Mando had fished off the rest of the attackers and launched his ship into hyperspace to escape.

When Mando came into the hull space, he was met with silence, you and the children stared in amazement at the small green baby. He looked around and figured that the child had used his mysterious powers to fix the ship.

“Everyone ok?” he broke the silence.

You jumped at the sound of his voice and scanned the room to make sure they were all safe, “Yeah,” you breathed out, “Mando...what…?” you couldn’t form a complete sentence. You were aware that powers like this existed, but it was one thing to read about it and another to actually see it in person.

“It’s a long story,” he said with a sigh, “You all should rest. We’re safe now,” he addressed the children in a soft voice. He helped you get all the kids calmed down and settled. You passed his child back to him and watched as he tenderly lay the baby down on a cot. You felt something stir in you as you watched how gentle he was with all the children.

He looked up once the child was tucked in and you realized you were staring. You cleared your throat and looked away as you tugged at your shirt. You vaguely heard him tell you to rest as well before he disappeared back up into the cockpit. However, you were entirely too restless to sit still.

“Hey Mando,” you called up, “Mind if I join you?”

Your answer came when the door to the cockpit slid open, and you climbed up to join the Mandalorian in the small room. He sat in the pilot's chair, but it appeared he had already put the ship on autopilot. 

“What is it, your highness?”

“You don’t need to be so formal with me,” you replied and gave him your name, “That’ll do just fine. I’m not much of a queen right now anyway,” you added with a scoff. Then, you looked up and your face melted. You stared out into the vast space in wonder, and Mando could see your eyes sparkle like the stars.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with genuine concern.

You shook your head to pull yourself out of your thoughts, “Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t been off the planet since I was a kid. I almost forgot how beautiful the stars are,” you stared out the window, wide-eyed.

Mando watched as your face lit up, and he found himself thinking a similar thought. Only, his thought wasn’t about the stars.

Suddenly, you became aware of strong gaze on you. You cleared your throat as you fidgeted with your hands and looked down. “I, uh,  just wanted to say thank you,” you broke the silence, “For helping me, and more importantly for saving the kids.” 

You seemed to have finished your thought, but Mando could feel a “but” in the air.

With a deep breath, you continued, “I hate to ask this of you, especially since you’ve done so much already,” you turned to face him, “But I can’t stay with the kids. I have to go back to Durane.”

“Go back?”

You steadied yourself, “I should never have let things get this bad. I have to fix my mistakes,” clearly, you were afraid. But you knew what you had to do, “I have to take the planet back from the Empire, finish what the rebels started before me. Even if...” your voice drifted off and you balled your hands into fists as your newly found determination drove you.

“I’ll help you,” he said plainly. He recognized that fire in your voice, and he knew how much this meat to you, even if it was a very dangerous mission. He also guessed that the vision of your father had something to do with your drive, but it wasn’t a subject he wanted to push.

This took you off guard, “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve done more than enough as it is.”

“How can you be sure the people have a decent leader if you die trying?” he retorted in an attempt to lighten your spirits.

You cracked a slight smile. He never ceased to surprise you. The same feeling took over you again as you looked at him. Even if you couldn’t see his face, there was something about him that made your heart flutter. “How do you know I’ll be a decent leader?” you finally said in a playful voice.

“I have a good feeling about you,” you could hear the lighthearted tone in his voice and it made you chuckle softly. “Why don’t you get some rest? You’ll need it,” he added for a moment of silence.

You nodded as you were suddenly aware of how exhausted you actually were, “Thanks, Mando. For everything.”

He watched you leave the cockpit and instantly wished he asked you to stay.

~

Notes: That scene at the end was something that was in my head since I started this so I was happy to get to it. I think you guys will like the next chapter too cause it’s lots of fluff! As always, comment or send me a message to be added to the tag list :)

Tag list: @ugly-wall-flower @spottedlekkudancer @smolashie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @soapjay @ispilledmyink​ @bva14​

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x ofc #mando x reader #mando #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djaren #pedro pascal #trust and intuition #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fluff

[erintoknow]

Something dumb

fallen hero: rebirth / retribution fanfiction. definitely spoilers here + putting my cards on the table with w i l d speculation about stuff we probably won’t get any solid information on until book 3 which... who knows how far away. But it’s more fun to do it like this then make a big nonsense theory post imo. i’ll be fucking shocked if i guessed anything right

uh... anyway! ~2.1k words [ao3]

–

This is novel; it’s almost eleven and you’re still not dressed. Just a bath towel. In someone else’s apartment. Julia Ortega is upending all the rules you’ve set to keep yourself safe. Can’t shake the feeling it’s going to be your downfall. Careless. Arrogant. 

“So explain this to me, again.” Julia is eating breakfast at the kitchen table, sausage and eggs. You watch her from your position curled up on the couch, arms resting over the back. She watches you back.

“Which part?” Try to smile, try to make it look natural, normal. Are you succeeding? You can’t know.

You try not to look at your arms as you sip the cup of coffee. Julia had insisted, given how little sleep you had gotten. Nightmares, always. You can’t run from ghosts. Can’t run from yourself. Wherever you go, there you are. 

Julia stabs a tiny sausage with a fork before waving it in your direction. “Let’s start with the basics. What actually is a re-gene?”

You bite your lip. “What actually is a person, Julia?”

She flinches, “I’m sorry. I mean like.. I know how people are uh, made. But re-genes? It’s more complicated than the official story, I’m sure.”

Stare into the coffee cup, watch the little swirl of creamer. “I don’t know,” you finally admit.

“You don’t know?”

“Do you think they tell us anything they don’t have to? Do you tell your hammer how it was made?” You snap back at her, slump against the back of couch, hold the coffee cup stretched out before you with both hands. “I know they use the same kind of vats to grow the… the bodies like they use now in hospitals for transplants. Just… you know, they do the whole person.” You perk up, “Actually, did you know – they’re in clinical trails right now for this SRS option that combines lab grown with genetic engineering from the patient’s own genome to neutralize the risk of rejection, and it’s looking really promising and–”

“Ari.” Julia has a hand up. “Focus.”

“Right. Sorry.” You close your eyes, heat crawling up your face.

“I mean, it sounds great. Just… one thing at a time?”

“Yeah.” You blow air across the surface of your coffee mug, set the creamer spinning again.

“So you really don’t know anything?”

“Well…” You flinch, glance up at the ceiling, then back to her. “I mean, I would listen in. Whenever I had the chance. They were pretty good about keeping their guard up, but I mean… I’m just a thing so…”

“You are not a thing, Ariadne.” She looks at you, full force intensity. You have to look away. Can’t meet that. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“…thank you.” You blink your eyes, can’t rub without risking the coffee. “Okay. Well. You know how if you flash clone someone, beside committing a felony you’ve essentially just created like, an adult baby, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“The autonomic nervous system still works. Some basic behaviors, but like, babies still need to learn even the most basic elements of fine motor control. You can flash clone a hundred of your best solider, and they’ll all loll their heads back, sprawled on the ground drooling.”

“That’s what the whole chip thing is for right?”

“…right. We’re not ‘human.’ Just AI-piloted meat robots.”

Julia sits there for a moment, fork in her mouth. Her mouth tugs down in a frown. “Wait,” She puts the fork down. “That’s a lot of super basic behaviors for a program to handle.”

“Well. That’s the secret isn’t it.” Your smile turns dark. “We’ve made a lot of progress in mod interfaces and basic AI routines to run interface between the brain and servos. But Re-genes predate all of that. We still can’t get good enough AI to do proper image recognition.”

“So how…?”

“You cheat.”

“Cheat?”

Take a moment, close your eyes, will your heart to stop pounding against your chest. “What kind of program already knows everything about how the human body moves and operates? A program so complicated that writing it by scratch is basically impossible?”

Julia looks at you. Does she get it yet?

Dive on regardless. Don’t look back, jump the window. “Do you know what cognitive mapping is?”

She shakes her head. “No… I’m not going to like the answer, am I?”

You purse your lips, a thin line. “N-no, probably not.” You shift on the couch, take another sip of the coffee, will your arms to stop shaking. Some pilot you are, this body always acting on its own accord. “It’s been a theory for ages and ages. But, funny, no one can ever seem to get funding to seriously look into it. I think China maybe just started doing their own research on the question?” The taste on your tongue turns foul, bitter. “I’m sure that will end well.”

“What is it?” The tone of her voice, she knows. She’s got the idea. God you feel sick.

“Cheating.” Another sip of coffee. “Scan a human brain. Translate it into an electrical pattern you can store on a chip. You can even make copies. Quantum effects mean the copies won’t be– can’t be perfect. But you can do it. And you get something you can plug back into a body and it’ll know how to operate it.” You pause, tilt your head. “There’s an adjustment period. Every body is, uh… different you know. The adjustment is lot shorter than waiting fifteen years for a baby to grow up though.”

“Ariadne… are you telling me that–”

You push on, you’ve stewed on this for years. If you stop now, will you ever have the courage to speak about it again? “Obviously I can’t say any of this is for sure. Just… inferences I’ve made. Research I did after I… you know, after I left. But– The processing, the mapping. It’s destructive. The original brain doesn’t survive the process intact. It can’t. And– and–” You swallow, wincing from the tightness in your throat. “You can use a brain that just… just died. But, a living one is better. Clearer signal.”

The blood is draining from Julia’s face. It hurts to see. Somehow it’s worse, seeing her grapple with it than it ever was for you, hitting her with everything at once. It’s taken you years to get to this point, and you still feel sick. “Like Athena I sprang from my father’s head. But I killed him in the birthing. Well…” You blink your eyes, hard. “Some version of me did? Or proto-me?”

“Ariadne… I’m sorry, but that’s…”

“I wonder… D-do I get my own soul or did I just– just steal my donor’s?”

There’s a long silence to that. That’s fine. There’s no way to answer that question.

“Do you have any…?”

“Of Zeus’s memories?” You shake your head. “I–I don’t think so. There’s a lot of mystery to memory but it’s not hard to locate where the brain stores it. And then there are… logic gates? Firewalls? Mirrors. Mirrors that keep that kind of stuff locked out. If– if they even leave it in there at all. The goal isn’t to resurrect the dead after all.”

“That’s… I don’t know whether to call that a mercy or not, Ari.”

“They get other benefits for doing things that way too.”

“Other benefits? What other benefits?”

“They– the farm, the directive, whatever, they think the hero drug results are, are influenced by your mentality. They already… borrow DNA from boosts to uh, ‘boost’ the re-gene’s chances of surviving.”

“Fuck. Does that work?”

“I don’t know.” Chew on the inside of your cheek. “I feel like there are still a lot that got… recycled. For no powers, or… bad powers.” You stare down, voice bitter. “But we’re not real people, so… who cares, right?”

“So… wait.” Julia frowns at her scrambled eggs, then looks across the room to you. “Does that mean there’s like… other versions of you?”

“Uh–” You look away. “I don’t know? You mean, like, from the same uh, donor?” Julia winces at the word. “Or the same body?”

“Both? Either?”

“I don’t know. It’s a creepy question, though. Isn’t it? Am I even the original ‘me’ out there?” You shudder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” you lie. “You know what I think?”

“…what?” Julia watches you, her expression unreadable. What is she thinking? What is she holding back for your sake? Does she hate you yet? Disgusted by you? Horrified?

“I don’t think it matters?” You bite at the inside of your cheek again, “I don’t know. It’s not like... It’s not like I don’t wonder. Maybe I’m trans because my donor was a woman? Or just my chip was in a female body previously and it picked up something there? Maybe they screwed up growing my body in the vat? Maybe it was on purpose and I’m just another sick experiment.”

“Ariadne...”

“A-anyway, the point is: Descartes is full of shit and mind-body dualism is bullshit too. Whatever the... parts of me where before, I’m just me now. This body... this mind, you can’t separate those. It’d be.. it’d be easier if you could maybe, but...”

Are you going too fast? Saying too much? You don’t want to lie anymore but– Julia is leaning over the table now, propping her head up with her arms. “And you sure about all of this?”

You put the coffee mug down on the end table, rub at your eyes. “I’m not sure of anything. I‘ve spent maybe half of my life on drugs by this point and–”

“Drugs?” Julia cuts in.

“That’s a whole other story.” You scrunch your face. Fuzzy, half-faded images floating to the top of your head. “And– and they can alter your memory, by the way. Erase things they don’t like. Another ‘perk’ to being a chip. Don’t ask me how I figured that one out.”

Julia is up from the table now, walking over to you, around the couch. “This is a lot to take in Ari. I think… I think I need you to slow down. Let me process. Before I do something dumb.”

You glance up at her, watch her sit down next to you. “Something dumb…?”

“Yeah, like burn down city hall.”

That gets a laugh. “Oh this is bigger than just Los Diablos.” You let her grab your shoulder, pull you in against her chest. You can’t relax. Not now. The tension burning in your shoulders.  “But I… I understand. I’m– I’m really taking a risk here too you know.”

There’s just the beat of her heart against you, then– “Yeah. I know.”

“This apartment could be bugged, or the next one over.”

“It’s not, I promise you.”

  “Hell, maybe they’re listening in via your mods, or–”

She waps you on the shoulder, laughing. “Get out of here!”

You huff, “I’m serious. Do you know what they’re doing in there when you’re getting an upgrade?”

“Well…” She shifts the hand on your shoulder, rubbing your arm. “No. I guess not. Thanks for giving me a whole new thing to be paranoid over.” 

“Happy to help.” You lean into her.

There’s a pause then; “You know, if you’re right saying it out loud probably just screwed both of us.”

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Stop. I asked you.”

“I’m sorry. For– for dumping all this on you. This isn’t even half of it.”

“I won’t lie Ari, it’s… hard to hear a lot of this.” Her voice is tense. Pained? Probably being truthful. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

“…I know. Thank you… for– for caring.”

“I’m just grateful you’re finally talking to me about it. Ari…” You can feel the words catch in her throat. You’ll have to prod them loose.

“What?”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“I know I said I wasn’t going to make you stop but… maybe it would be better if you stayed low for a while? A long while?” She keeps rubbing your upper arm, fingers firm into your too-exposed skin.

“No.” Your voice is firm. You reach your hand up, pull at your hair. “I– I don’t want to hurt anyone Julia. Well,” You pause, wince. “Almost anyone, I guess. But–” You shudder, swallow down the nausea. “They have to pay.”

“Okay. I’m not going to argue against that, exactly. Just…”

“It can’t be enough to just… destroy the farm, either.” You narrow your eyes, glaring down at your legs, orange lines poking out from under the towel. “The–the very idea of the Directive needs to go down in flames. Every last cocksucking motherfucker involved needs their life ruined and their career on fire. They’ll wish they were dead.” You exhale, let the air out of your lungs in one long shaking breath. Realize your finger nails are digging into your palms. Let go. Try to let go. Swallow the pain. 

There’s silence then; “It doesn’t have to be you, Ari.”

You bite back a laugh. it’s like you’ve come full circle in a year. From begging Julia to retire and let Adrestia go, and now, her she is, holding you up. Asking you. To let it go.

You can’t do that.

“Nobody else cares.” You push back against Julia, draw your legs to your chest, hug your knees. “And I’ll never be safe. They’ll never let me be. They’ll never stop haunting me.”

“I care. And so will others, if you just let them.”

A ghost of a smile on your face. “That’s a nice dream, Julia.”

“This isn’t going to make your nightmares go away.”

You swallow, press your eyes closed, turn your head in towards the crook of her arm. “I… I know.”

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fhr #mc #ortega #fhr/Ariadne #spoiliers #speculation #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #wild speculation

[nighttimepixels]

on deltarune

Okay, holy hell, I can’t start without saying that, quite frankly:

I loved it.

The music, the visuals, the new characters, the evolution of the battle style - it still retained so much of what I loved about Undertale, yet pushed further/evolved to suit this game.

I was nervous, admittedly, at the first battle - honestly, I’ve never liked team management RPGs too much because so often they get tedious. This, though? It was the perfect balance, and with the shifting team dynamic throughout the game, it really enhanced the story and added to it, rather than being a tedious distracting!

I also have to immediately say how much I loved the Dark World. The designs, the music, the uniqueness of the characters - seriously, Toby Fox did an incredible thing. This doesn’t feel like The Underground 2.0 - this feels like a different place, with beings that are different.... yet their attitudes and interactions still have that freaking charm and depth (even in minor NPCs) that I love about his style of storytelling.

Also, Ralsei is fluffiest best boi, I’m weeping.

Okay - I’m going to save the majority of my gushing over the team & team dynamic in the Dark World for another separate post, because given how much everyone is freaking out, i want to jump right into the meat of it:

Thoughts & Theories

First off... Do I think that this is Undertale 2: the Sequel?

No... but, also, kind of.

I do not think that Deltarune is in any way a direct sequel to Undertale. I especially strongly feel that it’s not an accurate take away to say this is ‘erasing the canon of Undertale’ or ‘destroying the characters/messing with what I love about them’.

I absolutely believe that this is, very literally, an alternate universe to the one we know and love in Undertale. The evidence is everywhere, especially once we return from the Dark World. The characters are nearly all there (and then some), and all the familiar ones carry the same personality and traits that make up the core of them, but the relationships, the context they’ve lived is different. This makes them different people in many ways- hell, with how widely accepted AUs became for the fandom, this should be nothing unfamiliar - but I think a lot of people are wildly thrown off by the fact that Toby Goddamn He Sure Did That Fox legitimately made AUs canon with this game.

Hell, the world of Deltarune seems to even give us the detail that The War (between humans and monsters) never happened here! There’s no hints of it - while the town seems to be almost entirely monsters but for Kris (presumably adopted), there’s no mention of some past sealed in the Underground (or the relationships/bond formed from such an experience), and frankly it doesn’t seem like there’s animosity between monsters and humans, either.

So if it’s not a Sequel™, what is it?

Deltarune is exploring a new theme, using familiar characters, a familiar setup, which in my mind makes it all the more powerful-

Namely, I believe Deltarune is taking two main characters/’entities’ from Undertale as it’s core focus-

‘Chara’ and Gaster.

Why do I think ‘Chara’? (and why the quotes?)

This, from the end of a No-Mercy Route:

and once you select ‘Erase’:

(see too, the fact that if you do a full Pacifist ending after a No-Mercy run, the post-credits include ‘you’ waking up in the middle of the night, and the ‘Chara’ face and familiar red glint occurring.)

Deltarune is a natural ‘evolution’, a follow-up to this specific moment, this concept.

Especially, especially, I note the phrasing ‘this pointless’ world’-

because a major theme of Deltarune (Chapter 1) is the idea that your choices have little impact on the world.

This is in direct juxtaposition to Undertale’s them of ‘choices matter’ - hell, in Deltarune, the ending is damn near the same in the Dark World even if you fight every monster - you can’t even kill any of them, because they run away, scared of you.

So, Deltarune’s theme - so far, your choices... don’t matter.

I’m not here to conjecture without proof - the fact is, this is Chapter 1, and we just don’t have all the details, not even close. We don’t know Kris’ origin (adopted, almost certainly, but how/why? from where, when there seems to be no other human in this town? are monsters largely separated from humans, or is this town just a case of a concentration in population?); we don’t know Gaster’s role (I’ll get to him shortly); we don’t know if the Dark World (and Lightners) are something even whispered about in legend in the world we came from.

(That said, I don’t stand by the interpretation of ‘all that being just a dream’ situation, but again, I’d rather have more info from the next Chapter before I try and conjecture there.)

We see in the beginning of the game something that the weight of doesn’t really hit hard until after it all- Kris, when facing the mirror and checking it, gets the flavor text ‘It’s just you.’

Naturally, at first playthrough, this largely just seems like a callback to the mirror text in Undertale, and a minor insight into Kris’ personal self-value - with the ‘just’ seeming a little sadly self-deprecating.

But after you’ve seen the post-credits-

Suddenly, that feels more like tired relief.

I don’t want to say for sure that Kris is ‘haunted’ or anything like that, but Kris is definitely not just Kris. The post-credits confirm that without a doubt. Suddenly, they lurch out of their bed - not moving normally, as if something else is... piloting them, for lack of a better term - they look like a freaking zombie, at best... and then they rip their soul out of their body and slam it into a cage. The next moment, we get the chilling red-glint and distinctive ‘Chara’ like expression.

I say this tentatively, but my guess is that Kris, being adopted (though certainly at a young age, given the text about Kris growing up with Asriel) came from a bad situation. Again, avoiding too much conjecture in this post, but there’s a lot of signs that point towards that - and I mean, the symbolism of ‘separating yourself from your heart/emotions’ after something traumatic...? The emptiness of Kris’ side of the room, the way that Kris doesn’t fight back in the beginning against Susie, the emotional distance... Seeming, based on interactions with others, like Kris has been largely reticent or at least distant from others more and more, with the exception of big bro Asriel? That’s a lot of red flags, in my mind-

But it’s more than just having issues from whatever happened in their past (and presumably to their birth parents...), it’s also that either because of or in relation to that, ‘Chara’ has become a part of them, and, apparently, takes over at times. That red wagon, that cage... that’s not new. It’s rusty, there are stains nearby seemingly from it/what it held-

This is why I keep putting ‘Chara’ in quotes. It’s moreover a name for the entity of hate/no mercy that you face at the end of the game, not so much the actual Fallen Child from Undertale.

We don’t know what’s been happening with that, we don’t know how much or how often ‘Chara’ has control - but they’re there, and Kris knows it.

This is what so strongly ties together that theme of choices don’t matter - because that seems to be what Kris feels.

Additionally, on the note of Gaster:

No, we haven’t ‘seen’ him yet, or received.... direct confirmation. But Toby Fox, despite being the greatest troll with the best payoff to have ever lived, doesn’t do things lightly. Hell, despite the overwhelming popularity of Undertale, he’s only ever done a handful of proper interviews, and rarely gives concrete details about anything - if he doesn’t want to imply or say something, he won’t.

But we know for certain that he never does things lightly, and the tweets leading up to Deltarune’s release were all in the style of the ‘Missing Entry’, the DARKER YET DARKER entry - ie, the Gaster entry. Coming from a background of writing analysis and style analysis, this matches to a T (though seriously, you don’t need any kind of background to notice that...) - and furthermore, matches the ‘character creation’ start of Deltarune.

Gaster, wherever, whatever he is, is likely ‘viewing’ all this from his position smeared across space-time... everywhere and nowhere at once. He’s positioned as the narrator in an overarching since - his seems to be the ‘voice’ speaking to you when you game-over, his is what you see in the beginning... I’d bet we’re going to be seeing a lot more, though almost certainly in unexpected ways, in future chapters.

Wrapping up-

There’s so much up in the air, but I feel certain about that much based on all the evidence so far. The fact that a game of this length came out of the blue when only some of us even dared to hope for a small demo from the Gaster Tweets on Oct. 30th... holy shit.

Some people seem to have mixed feelings, but seriously - Toby Fox released a 3-4 hour game (depending on how you played it, that’s about the fastest I’ve seen on average for first plays without rushing), with no Kickstarter, no whisper of it coming out - and it’s only the first chapter of the story. However you feel about that, seriously - this man is an incredible creator, and I couldn’t be more in awe.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to reblog this/add on! I might come back and do some light edits/add-ons as I’m sure I’ll think of something I forgot to say in hardly ten minutes, but anything major I’ll likely add in a personal reblog.

With that, I’ll leave off with one final note that I think no one’s brought up yet in what little I’ve seen on full thoughts of the game:

Anyone remember the Stretch Goals from the Undertale Kickstarter?

Well, under the last, largest one, Toby Fox wrote this:

The “other” game... I can’t tell you anything about it. Its very nature is shrouded in darkness.

Toby Fox, everyone.

Toby Goddamn Fox.

#deltarune #deltarune spoilers #delta rune spoilers #deltarune theories #deltarune thoughts #those are all the biggest points i wanted to put down to post! i have SO MANY MORE #but these felt most important #esp since i've seen some mixed feelings? idk i'm a very open person #and strongly of the camp that this in no way shits on or lessens the story of Undertale #it's different - very much so - and /challenging/ #jfc though i'm so excited to see where this goes #and also fucking reeling still at the fact that TOBY HINTED AT DELTARUNE IN THE FINAL UPDATE OF THE UT KICKSTARTER #JFC #GOD TIER FORESHADOWING

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Vanilla Sky prt 17 full

Watching Keith leave with Kosmo, Lance let out a string of curses that would get him whacked senseless with his mother's slipper if she was there. What the hell was wrong with him? For movements and phoebs he'd kept his secret... but noooo, as soon as Keith showed him a little bit of attention, he'd folded like a cheap suit. He hadn't intended to tell Keith what happened. He'd promised they'd talk after the mission but he'd been going to come up with something... something that wasn't him spilling his guts like he was was begging for attention. And what the hell was Keith thinking, telling him he loved him?! He'd tried so hard not to hear that from Keith. He knew... or he kind of knew how Keith felt. His family having a good laugh at his cluelessness. Keith was smart, funny, quick, supple, gorgeous and courageous... And now he knew... and he still had the nerve to say that he loved him?! He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. Keith's hugs... they'd been nice. They'd been soft... and so fucking warm that Lance wasn't sure he wanted him to let go. This directly contradicting the constant feeling of being dirty and tainted, adding to his fears he was tainting his friend by being so close to him. Ever since Keith had walked back into his life, Lance had fought to keep everything inside. He'd fought to keep himself from crying too loud, with Keith's quarters so close to his. He'd fought to keep his showers shorter than half a varga, feeling filthy as he stepped out too soon. He'd fought not to jump each time Keith was too loud, not to flinch away each time Keith touched him. It was like... it was like those deep purple eyes were drawing every memory to the surface, causing his secrets to spill into his mouth, only contained by his grinding teeth. Keith had broken him. He'd broken through Leandro to expose Lance, and now Lance didn't know how to put that mask back on. He'd been so angry. He'd lashed out so distastefully. He'd mocked Keith's love with laughter. He'd asked him if he wanted to know how they'd fucked him. Thrown in his face that he was addicted to drugs. Thrown in his face that they'd made him come... and Keith... fucking accepted it. He reached out and pulled him close. He'd held him as he'd sobbed like an idiot. He'd him as he'd screamed. If he could love Keith, he would. He wanted to. His chest had swelled with happiness for a micro-tick when he'd said he loved him. A micro-tick where Lance had been over the moon before the weight of everything came crashing back down so hard that all that he could do was laugh. And now they were stuck here until Zak fixed the fucking Telula, or a ship from the outpost found them first.

  Having woken in Keith's arms, Lance had panicked. The overwhelming scent of the man's natural odour, combined with the scent of a fire on clear summer night had been too much for him. Between his legs had been wet, like he was ready for his weird heat thing. Fear coiling in his stomach as he realised Keith's hand rested on his exposed stomach as... if to protect something in there. Keith's warmth had seeped right through his body, scaring him because it wasn't the soul-consuming ice he'd woken up with ever since dying. Barely holding down his rising feelings, he'd slipped from Keith's hold. Keith shifting in his sleep as he mumbled Lance's name. He couldn't pull Keith down with him. He couldn't let Keith stay. Not when he was too broken to fix. Leaving Keith sleeping, Lance had headed up to Daehra's ship. Locked inside, Kosmo had pulled the blankets off the small thin bed, looking sad for himself as he slept on the floor under the dash. Moving to the pilot's seat, Lance powered the ship up. God. It's been more than tempting to take the ship and run. To leave Keith there for Daehra to collect, or maybe the Blades, but... his traitorous heart wouldn't let him. He fucking loved Keith. He hated that he loved him. He hated that he loved working beside him. Having him there to banter with. To joke with. He thought his feelings of "love" had been ruined. Keith's eyes so characteristic of the Galra. Those purple eyes that had stared down into his as he'd screamed... he'd thought he'd hate Keith's eyes, but when he looked into them, he couldn't see any traces of the Galra who had held him down. All he could see in them was his best friend... who'd hauled his arse out the outpost when he'd lost his shit. He didn't remember getting out. He didn't know if Keith had been hurt because of him. He could have gotten him killed... like... Kre'el. Kre'el would scold him. Tell him off for leaving a friend behind. He could hear her disapproving voice in his head. That same way she'd scold him for not thinking as she'd done a hundred times before. And what if they did come after them. Keith would be stranded, probably killed... Releasing the controls, he pulled up the ship's Nav system. Keith had flown through the night by the seems of it. They were out of the quadrant they'd been in, and now four away. Right. He should have known. Keith had always piloted like it was the most natural thing in life to do. Of course, he'd gotten them out... It was one more thing Lance was useless at.

 Whimpering at him, Kosmo locked his knee

"Did Keith lock you in here?"

Whining Kosmo shuffled closer

"It's alright, boy. He's sleeping, and we've got a few more vargas before the sun rises properly. Do you want to come hunting with me? Find you some water?"

Kosmo's tail started to wag

"Yeah? I could use a break from him too. I need to grab some stuff, then we'll go. Sound good?"

Yipping happily, Lance flinched at the loud noise

"Sorry, boy. My head's a little sore. Can you keep it down until we get away from camp?"

The yip Kosmo gave was adorable. Soft and strangled as he made a real effort to

"Thanks, boy. Why don't we see if we can find some meat for dinner while we're at it? I've got to contact Daehra and see what's happening on her end"

  Calling Daehra had been depressing. The Telula couldn't come to collect them. Daehra had been worried, repeatedly asking him if he was ok, while Lucteal issued threats towards Keith, despite Keith not being there. Even if Keith had gone off the deep end with all this crazy love stuff, it was reassuring that those two were the same as normal. Lying through his teeth, he'd told them both they were. They didn't need to see how weak he was over a little attention. He hadn't cried over it all like he had the previous night since everything he had happened. He had said the words out loud to anyone but Keith because words made it real... and now he'd really fucked up. He'd fucked up everything with Keith. So many times he'd thought of him, so many times he'd wanted to call him, but there was always a mission. Keith was always busy. Keith didn't exist to answer his calls in the dead of night when he was lonely. Neither did his old team. Not that they replied to his messages. He'd tried so fucking hard to force himself to reach out, to take the team calls then act like nothing was wrong. They didn't even notice he wasn't talking. The didn't notice when he stopped trying to be friends. If Keith stayed with him, he'd face the same alienation. He'd be pushed aside. He couldn't do that to him. Keith had come so far since they first met. He was close with both Hunk and Pidge, taking the spot Lance thought he'd occupied. Not that this was a competition or anything. He already knew he'd lost and would lose if it was. He didn't hate Keith, but he did hate that he wasn't more like him. Keith was the reliable one. Keith was the strong one. The one that Shiro named leader. While Lance was left to trail behind... it hurt far too much. It was better if Keith forgot the previous night, and Lance kept himself busy catching game. He'd get that right. He'd prove he knew how to catch dinner and didn't need a grizzled hunk like Keith to save him.

   *

Wandering across the campsite with no shirt on, Lance blushed at the sight of a half-naked Keith. When he stripped off all he had to offer were scars, scars, and more scars. Keith, on the other hand, was ripped. His muscles long and lean, almost flowing beneath his skin as he came closer. Shovelling another shovel of coals over the bundle of silver in front of him, Lance would tell anyone who asked that it was the fire pit making his face hot

"What are you doing?"

"Making a fire pit we can cook in tonight. Breakfast is by the bed. Daehra packed eggs and this weird bread kind of stuff. It pretty much tastes like cardboard, but it's packed with vitamins and minerals"

"You are?"

"Yeah. Then I wanted to get this done"

He'd eaten half a piece of the cardboard bread before his nerves had gotten the better of him and he'd been forced to quit. Keith would scold him if he knew

"Ok... you've been throwing up, so you're probably also really dehydrated too"

"I had some water"

Watching him closely, Lance hated the way Keith's eyes roamed across his body. He knew Keith was watching him because he was concerned, yet having his every move watched had him convinced he was doing things wrong. As the shovel started shaking in his hold, he dug the tip into the dirt by his shoe instead of moving more coals

"You said your building a pit?"

"Yeah... I mean. I'm probably doing it wrong, but I'm trying to... it probably looks stupid"

Keith picked up the plate of eggs on toast

"You said "probably" twice. Have you done this before?"

"We did this at home..."

"Then I'm sure you're doing it right. Tell me how it works"

That right there. Keith had to know what that did to him. How his stupid heart did that weird flip thing. He knew it was his brain, but it's always baffled him how you can feel something in your brain and have it come out in your heart or stomach

"It... uhh..."

Shit... he was starting to get even more anxious. He knew what he was doing... so why was he struggling with his words?

"Lance?"

"I... I'm sorry. It's a fire pit. We're going to cook dinner tonight in it"

"That sounds cool"

Keith was probably humouring him. He was probably secretly laughing at the fact Lance was now having a breakdown over a fire pit...

"Mum and I always cook over the fire. I haven't seen it done this way"

"I can change it. Fill it in, I mean"

"Why? You went to all this effort"

"If it's wrong..."

Placing down the knife and fork he'd only just picked up, Keith looked up at him

"Lance, it's not wrong. I didn't mean to make you think it was. I was asking because I was curious. That's all"

Now he'd made Keith feel bad. What the hell was wrong with him?! Well? He knew what it was, but he didn't want to make Keith sad

"I'm sorry..."

"Hey. You don't need to apologise. Just explain it to me"

"You... um... put the coals in, then put the meat in like a pot or something to cook it in. Then you cover it with leaves and leave it cook"

"That sounds cool"

"Yeah... because it's a bird, it needs to be cooked well. I wasn't... expecting you back so soon"

If Keith could have stayed away a few more vargas it would have been appreciated... maybe even the night, the following night, then right up until Daehra arrived... because fucked if he knew how to handle this. How to handle soft Keith who cared for him... Who looked at him like he wasn't a lump of dirty shit

"Soon? I thought I was gone a while"

"Oh... uh..."

Was "uh" and "um" the only sounds his stupid tongue could make?! At this rate, Keith was going to think him even stupider

"My sense of time isn't great..."

"It's fine. I still get thrown talking to Shiro. He swaps back and forth from Earth time to ticks, doboshes and vargas like it's perfectly natural. Why can't we just stick one and stay with it? If the staff of the Atlas are in space, shouldn't they be using space-time? It's confusing as hell"

Lance felt his lips curling at the edges into something suspiciously not frown like

"What's the matter? Can't you keep up?"

Glaring at him, Keith sounded like his pride had been wounded

"I can keep up just fine. It'd simply be easier if I didn't have to"

"Sure, sure, samurai"

"I'd forgotten how much you like your nicknames until I looked at the board of yours"

Board? What board? Ooooh... Fuck. Why couldn't his brain get it together? At this rate, Keith was probably going to murder him for being so useless. His tone was flat as he tried to joke

"My board is a work of art"

"You run a good team"

 Not sure if Keith was deflecting because his pride was wounded or if his friend was trying to pry, Lance went about scooping up another shovel of coals

"Can I ask about them?"

Lance already knew Daehra and Keith had talked about him more than once. Daehra was awful at keeping secrets, and Lucteal was struggling to accept Keith knowing that Lance had held strong feelings for the man

"Ask what?"

"I don't know. How did you all meet? I know you helped save Daehra's sister... how did that happen?"

Keith didn't mean to upset him, he knew that. The question was fairly innocent, yet his mind decided because he was hurting at the memory, he needed to lash out

"It happened when I killed the man who raped me, and the last member of his guard to rape me"

Growling the words out, Lance threw the shovel down in self-disgust. He instantly regretted the flare at the look of pain on Keith's face

"Fuck. Fuck. Sorry. Sorry... look. I'm not angry at you. I know you're trying right now, but I'm..."

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he slowly released it through his mouth

"I met Deahra and Lucteal hunting down the man who'd... you know... Their father sold their sister to him for a sliver of power once... he... got Red. Technically Daehra and Lucteal are bastard children born from the king's other bed partners, but the moment the queen started birthing their precious royal children, they were both cast aside. Their little sister Annla... they wanted to do the same thing to her... and like hell, I was going to let that happen. I killed... them and took her back to them. I went back to finish the job, but Daehra had called the police in. A police friend of mine in when I didn't come back on the same day I met them. She dragged my arse out and stopped me getting myself killed. My head... kind of broke"

"You saved a princess?"

Lance winced at the word princess. Keith was bringing back all the feelings that torn him apart when he'd tried to choose between Keith and Allura...

"Yeah. She's only about 7 or 8. She still calls to talk"

"That's sweet"

Sweet? How did he mean sweet? Keith didn't say sweet? And not mean cool. Did he mean cool? Why was he thinking about this too much? Did Keith want children? Did he like children? He seemed like the awkward uncle who'd pass the crying baby over to next closest adult... God. What would Keith say if he knew... that he could... That would mean... sex... oh, God. He was a monster. How did a talk about an alien princess end up with him wanting to vomit at the thought of sex with Keith? What kind of a monster was he?

"She's a child"

"What? No. I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to say it how you would. Fine. It's nice that she calls"

Oh... oh...

"Oh. Yeah. Well, it's to talk to Daehra mostly. She was her attendant"

"Still. You did a good job saving her. You should be proud"

Proud of being forced to suck dick before he could act? Lance definitely wasn't proud of that... he wasn't proud of waking up wet when Keith had shown him a little attention. His cheeks felt warm as he looked away. He probably could never give Keith a family... He probably couldn't really carry. He'd been a normal guy all his life, and now he was... going to cry... Nope. He didn't want to cry... not without any good reason to cry

"Can we not talk about this anymore? I get that you feel the need to talk, but I don't really want to"

Keith's face fell a little. Lance mentally congratulating himself for being the biggest quiznakking idiot in the world as it did

"Ok. But, what do want to do after I'm done eating? I would say we could rest... but I get the feeling you'd say no"

"You're right. We still need to collect more firewood. I want to boil some water too, then bottle it... after that, maybe then we could rest?"

Rest as in "sit there and empty the chicken out of their entrails and pluck them naked", not as in "sit there awkwardly while Keith pulls his weird mind magic that makes him talk far too much"

"Sure. Sounds good. We should try sparring too. I bet you could put me on my arse"

"I know I could put you on your arse, but it's not safe. Now stop avoided your breakfast. The eggs are edible, Dae packed extra supplies, so if you have a problem with them, talk to her"

"No problem. It's better than purple goo"

Green goo was better than purple goo, but no goo was better than all goo. Making the decision not to reply, Lance picked up his discarded shovel. This was going to be a loooong few quintants...

  *

Training with Kosmo felt lacking to Keith. Neither of their hearts were in it, but Lance had fallen asleep while waiting for the water they'd collected to boil, so Keith hadn't wanted to disturb him. Practising disarming techniques with Kosmo didn't go well when all the dopey wolf wanted to do was sleep next to Lance. Each time Keith turned his back on him Kosmo would teleport back over to Lance, Keith then forced to jog over to Kosmo, drag him away, scold him for not paying attention, maybe get in two or three doboshes of training, then start the whole process again. If he looked at it like endurance training, it didn't seem as annoying...

 When Kosmo teleported back to Lance for the umpteenth time, Keith gave up. It hadn't distracted him from the guilt still gnawing at his gut over the video, nor had anything else. The thought of admitting to Lance what he'd done was too much. He didn't want Lance to hate him. He didn't want Lance to shut back down again. He wanted to help... and to do that, he was going to have to be picky and tell only certain truths, until Lance was ready to hear his full admittance. But then again, that could blow up too. Lance could yell at him for thinking him too weak to handle the truth, and be sent spirally back after whatever progress they'd made. He hated this. Starting whatever this was on half-arsed truths was only going to come back and bite him in the arse.

 Sitting down next to the blankets Lance was sleeping on, Keith pulled his blade from his belt. There wasn't much to do, Lance had already buried the chickens in the coals to cook, they'd also collected enough firewood to last the next few quintants, and enough water to last until the Telula reached them. Keith had already decanted the water into the bottles Lance had organised. It'd taken all of four doboshes, then boredom had kicked in all over again. Letting his gaze wander towards Lance, he caught himself at the last moment. Watching his friend sleep was creepy... but... no. He wasn't going to... quizank... apparently, he was. His gaze slipped again, Keith's face softened at the peaceful expression on Lance's face. If only Lance could always be so relaxed, he might actually be able to heal. The bags beneath his eyes hung heavy, his cheekbones much sharper than Keith remembered, his marks gone as he huffed a soft breath between his pouty lips. Reaching towards him, Keith was pulled from his momentary trance by a soft mumble

"Keith..."

Jerking his hand back, Keith cursed himself. He didn't know what he was about to do, only that he was a moron. Lance needed rest. And Keith needed to go for a run or something... maybe he could... knock himself out until the Telula arrived? He didn't want to touch Lance sexually, but he did want to cuddle the shit out of him

"K-Keith?"

Moaning out his name, Lance shifted closer to him. Half off the blankets before he stopped with the top of his head against Keith's leg. This had to be some kind of joke

"Lance?"

 Nuzzling into Keith's leg, Lance let out a soft sound that sounded suspiciously like a purr. Lance had to be mocking him. People didn't go around purring for no good reason

"Lance?"

Placing his hand on Lance's shoulder, Keith shook gently. He didn't want to wake Lance, but he did want to know if he was awake or not. Releasing his shoulder, Keith moved Lance's hair back from his face. The moment his fingers brushed against the side of Lance's head just above his ear, Lance sucked in a breath. Moving his hand away, a few ticks passed before Lance slowly relaxed. Fuck. Even the simplest of gestures caused Lance pain. Hair was now added to Keith's growing list of things to avoid... though it was the second physical addition following "don't unintentionally wake Lance up by touching him because you can't control your feelings". After he'd talked with his mother, he'd had a good hard think about the kind of words he should avoid when talking with Lance. All he'd come up with were the obvious ones related to "force"... and he didn't trust himself not to mess it all up by saying something stupid without thinking. Placing his blade as far away from them as he could reach, Keith laid himself out next to Lance, letting Lance curl into his side, on his own accord, with a soft huff. However, it was only a few doboshes later that Lance shot up next to him, his mouth wide in a silent scream as Keith rushed to sit back up. Sucking down a few desperate breaths, Keith waited until Lance rubbed at his eyes before breaking the silence

"Lance?"

"I'm ok..."

"You sure?"

"Mhmm... nightmare... sorry... sorry... I didn't mean to fall asleep"

"It's alright"

"No... ugh... why do nightmares have to suck?"

Laying back down, Keith stared up the lazy clouds passing over the top of them. Taking a few ticks longer, Lance laid down next to him. So close that they were practically shoulder to shoulder. He could feel his best friend's little finger brushing against his own, without giving it much thought, Keith hook it with his, meaning in some weird way they were holding hands

"How long was I out?"

"Not too long. I was playing with Kosmo for a bit, then when I sat you curled into me"

"Shit. I'm sorry"

"It's fine. It only happened a few doboshes ago. Do you think that caused the nightmare?"

"Maybe. It's not your fault, though. I didn't mean to fall asleep"

"You obviously needed it"

"I don't know about that"

"You wouldn't have fallen asleep if you didn't"

"It's the sun. It feels nice"

Looking over to Lance, he found Lance was already looking at him. Drawing his brow, the Cuban was confused

"What?"

"I didn't mean to wake you up"

"It's fine. I don't sleep much as it is. I probably would have woken sooner rather than later"

"Is it the nightmares?"

"Yeah... they're... they're not better than they were, because they still suck, but they're different"

"I'm sorry to hear that"

Looking away from him and back up the heavens, Lance sighed

"You don't have to keep saying sorry"

"Even if I am"

"It makes me feel stupid when you keep apologising"

"I feel stupid for messing things up"

Lance bit his lip, before looking back to him again

"I don't really hate you. It was such a shitty thing to say. I don't hate Shiro either. It's... you throw me off balance"

"I throw you off balance?"

"Yeah. When I look at you... it's like... everything comes rushing back all at once. I can remember almost everything that happened and it's all on the tip of my tongue"

Keith didn't know what to say to that... He didn't want Lance to remember anything he didn't want to

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologise. It's not your fault. It just... it throws me off how easily you get under my skin. I was so fucking mad at you for tracking me down. I wanted to throw you down the club stairs and scream at you "to never come back""

"Wow, dude. That's a bit harsh"

"It wasn't your fault. It's... I feel like you can see right through me and I hate it"

"I can't you know... see through you that is. There's skin, and muscle, and bone..."

Lance groaned at him

"You're a dick"

"That doesn't mean I'm not right"

"Sometimes I wonder. Like really wonder"

"Wonder what?"

"If I came back. Or if I'm still on the astral plane..."

Keith's voice caught in his throat. Squeezing Lance's little finger, he slowly picked his words

"You died when I was away from the team, didn't you?"

Sighing at him, Lance squeezed back

"You knew?"

"Not until recently. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Everyone was busy. Besides, it was hardly worse than when you tried to throw your own life away. Don't think Matt didn't tell Shiro about it"

"I know he did... But at the time, I didn't see any other way"

There was a pause long enough for Keith's heart to begin beating faster

"I... I didn't either. It was going to hit Allura... and the team... they needed her more than they needed someone like me. I wish she'd never brought me back"

"It's probably not much, but I'm glad she did. You're the heart of the team"

"I'm the guy you didn't want to spend eternity with. The stupid one. If I could have stayed there, I would have... nothing's been right since I came back..."

Rolling onto his side, facing Lance, Keith smiled softly as Lance rolled to face him too

"You're going to be ok. We're going to be ok"

"You don't know what it's like"

"No. I don't. But I do know that if I'd I lost you, I never would have been able to move on, or even move forward. You keep saying you came back wrong, but I can't understand what you mean"

"Allura... I was dead. I felt myself die. I felt my heart stop as I was electrocuted and then it was all nothingness like the astral plane. It was black... as far as you can see. It felt like... like being smothered by the darkness for an eternity. She used part of her quintessence to bring me back. Part of her being. She probably had to in order to stabilise my body, like she had to use her gem from her tiara to stabilise Shiro... Keith, she wasn't attracted to me. She didn't love me. What she was drawn to was the part of her in me..."

Keith expected Lance's to be crying, instead, he looked resigned. Like this has played a million times in his head, so could no longer feel the pain he needed over such a statement

"That's..."

"What? Not true? She was still in love with Lotor to the very end. When we were together... she only thought of the Altean's. Then she... she went after the entity... I loved her, but not in the same way she loved me"

"She was an idiot"

Lance's eyes narrowed into a glare

"No. Listen to me. Lance, you're an idiot but she is too. You... you always push yourself so hard. You're always so hard on yourself that it's frankly frustrating. I want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until you see what the rest of us see. The fact Allura couldn't see it, it pisses me off. You've always had my back. Even when we were punk nose brats sniping at each other, I could always count on you. At first, I found your flirting irritating as hell. Then I realised, all you wanted was for someone to like you for you. I'm sorry it took me so long"

"Allura had a lot going on"

"We all did. It doesn't make it right"

"Keith... she's still important to me. Even if you don't like her"

"It's not that I don't like her. I appreciate her sacrifice. I just wish you hadn't been hurt. You didn't even tell us you died. That's not ok"

"There was no one to tell... Pidge and Hunk were busy. You were gone. Shiro hated me. Coran was busy. Allura and Lotor were... busy... it doesn't matter now"

"It matters to me"

"It's been years"

"And if it'd been me who died, you would have never let me hear the end of it. You would have cried and felt just as guilty as I do"

Sniffling, Lance failed as he tried to give him a stern look

"Shut up. You can't turn this back on me"

"I can too. I hate what you've been through. You deserved so much better than all of this"

"You deserve better than being stuck here with me. I couldn't even get you off the outpost..."

"It was pretty hairy for a moment. Especially when they started firing at us"

Lance took a shaky breath as tears welled in his eyes. Cautiously, Keith wriggled closer to wrap his arm around Lance, leaving them forehead to forehead as Lance whispered

"I fucked up the whole mission"

"No"

"When I saw all that blood... I couldn't... you know. We were Paladins. We got hurt... but there was so much blood..."

"Yeah. But if you hadn't reacted to the guards, that could have been us. For all we know, they could have piped sedatives through the vents"

Lance gave a weird snort

"You Blades and your vents... when they had me, I kept thinking how one day someone's going to put fans in them to prevent people climbing around"

"They've already got fans in them. That's what keeps the air moving"

"Oh... right... I didn't think of that... I know we have to go back... but fuck... I don't want you to end up cut into pieces"

"You want to go back?"

"I don't want to... but... we can't leave it like that"

God. Lance was killing him right here. It was worth than his friend's bad breath

"I... before you get mad at me, I was kind of freaking out too. I messaged mum about what happened"

Lance's eyes widened

"You what?!"

"I sent her some of the video. We've got undercover operatives out there, who have been operating without knowing about this threat. This information could save the lives of Blade and rebel members"

"Keith! I didn't... I... I trusted you!"

"I know. That's why I'm telling you. She didn't say she was going to act. But... if it means no one having to die"

"What did you send her?! What exactly did you send her?!"

"Video of the other room... and some of the blood... and them trying to kill us"

"Keith!"

"I know. I know. I wish the two of us could handle this, but I don't think we can. Plus, they know who I am. If they go to Daibazaal, mum needs to be prepared"

"D-Daibazaal... I didn't think of that..."

Keith could see Lance spiralling

"No. Daibazaal has some of the best defences out there"

"They had Galra working for them. What if they return home? What if they go after Krolia? Or your team... What if..."

"Lance. This isn't going to do any good. I'm worried too, but my team can handle. Mum can handle it. Everyone can handle it. They haven't come after us, and we're not that far from the outpost. Even if they're destroying the evidence, we both know what happened. And now that the Blades know, they can also compile a case to get things changed"

"They used to... you know... cut people up there. But they'd phased it out when the empire fell. I thought... I mean... I killed people but I didn't know I was sending them to be butchered... I worked with the police... I fucking blew things up for them... they said... god..."

"Shhh. You're going to push yourself into a panic attack, or make yourself sick again"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laying this all on you..."

"It's fine. Do you want to keep laying here? Or do you want to get up and do something?"

Lance nodded slowly. His lips were so close that Keith wanted to a taste. He knew how soft and sweet Lance's kisses could be

"I want to go take a swim"

Oh shit... Lance had no idea what he was doing to him... A half-naked Lance was the last thing he needed to be thinking about

"Do you want... I mean..."

"I need some time alone. I'm... I feel like I should apologise. I don't mean to keep pushing you away..."

"No. You don't need to. But take Kosmo with you. I tried to train with him, and all he wanted to do was nap near you"

"You know I don't hate you, don't you? I never should have said I did. I can't do that. I can't give you that. Not now"

"Lance, I understand. I've been pushing too hard to. I want to know everything. No matter how had it is. I want to help you through it"

Sincerity shone on Lance's face.

God. His lips were right there. Keith's will eroding faster with each tick

"I know. I don't know why but every time you look at me, I feel like an idiot. I want to tell you everything... Well, maybe not everything. I'm not ready for people to know. I don't want anyone else to ever know... and some things... I can't. I got used to keeping this inside. Ugh. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm probably not going to be the greatest friend, but I'll try"

"I'm not going anywhere. You should go for that swim before the sun goes down"

"Yeah..."

Lance's breath was warm against his lips. His brain finally shorting out as his lips pressed against Lance's. Letting out a whimper, Lance pushed him off as he scrambled back. Keith's heart sank. He was such a goddamn idiot!

"Lance... I'm sorry. I didn't think"

Shaking his head, Lance climbed to his feet

"Lance?"

"I can't"

 Taking off, Lance ran from him. Kosmo leaping to his feet to run after his crush. Keith flopped onto his back, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He was such a goddamn idiot! Lance clearly didn't like having his face, or head touched that much. And he'd forced a kiss to his lips... Why?! A few more ticks and Lance would have left him. A few more ticks and his warmth would have been gone from his hold. Lance was probably going to shut him right out now... Fuck... He'd held his tongue over the sweet smell of sea salt and junipers that had come from Lance. The changes in his scent that Keith knew wasn't possible, so could only choke it up to his imagination, and that he was going slightly crazy due to his love of Lance.