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#bc all of them have ptsd nightmares

crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 10 months

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Whump Week - Day 3

Day three for @week-of-whump!! Oops this was way angstier than I meant it to be? Miguel is @whumpr's boy!!

There's even a sequel right over here!

Prompt: “Nobody needs to know” TWs: isolation/loneliness, bullying

"You seem tired."

Manuel's voice drifted over the kitchen table. It snapped Mariano out of the blank staring he didn't realize he was doing. Mariano blinked.

He was at breakfast. The other war mages were looking at him. They had a drill in two hours, he was scheduled for a training session with Luis afterwards, and there was another drill that night.

He couldn't be tired.

"I'm okay." Mariano said, refocusing on his scrambled eggs and the fresh tortillas Izan had made. He sipped his orange juice. He didn't taste any of it.

Manuel's eyebrow raised. "Have you been sleeping well?"

Mariano's bedroom was on the ground floor, closest to the road. To the cars that passed by at night. To the streetlamp that flickered. The blinds sucked at their job, and the thin curtains only sort of filtered any light that came through.

He couldn't hang anything up to cover the window or get blackout curtains. Dimitri would make fun of him for being a spoiled brat. He'd already thrown a fit about Mariano getting his own room. He claimed that he didn't want to stop being roommates with Laredo when Mariano offered to trade, though.

Dimitri complained about a lot of things that he did.

"I've been sleeping alright."

Manuel frowned. He looked at Izan, then Laredo, and then Dimitri. Mariano still didn't know what the looks passed between any of them meant. It was too subtle, flew just outside of his grasp.

Mariano didn't try to figure it out anymore. He understood the signals they used in battle. That was enough.

He ate his eggs methodically, purposefully. Every bite had a certain amount of tortilla that was required to go with it. He finished both of them together like he did every morning, drank the last of his juice, then stood to wash his dishes.

"Thank you for breakfast." He said, drying his favorite plate and cup before putting them away.

Izan didn't say anything. No one stopped him from going to his room. They didn't ever come into his room, or knock on his door. He was grateful for that, at least.

The walls were bare. The room was spotless. His blankets, laptop, and spare glasses were the only things that pointed to it being his space. Mariano laid down on the bed, something unidentifiable swirling in his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

He hadn't slept there in weeks. Not since his last nightmare. Not since he'd woken up with his focus knife in his hand, pointed at the window and glowing like the sun.

A car had driven by.

Miguel hadn't been standing over him.

He couldn't stop seeing the swirling lights when he closed his eyes. He couldn't stop feeling the phantom rush of heat. Couldn't shake the feeling of dark eyes on the back of his neck as the two of them walked into the night to run an errand for Luis. Brushing his teeth and putting his hair up before bed still felt like silently saying goodbye to his parents every night.

He knew no one would care if he told them about his nightmares.

It didn't matter. Miguel would probably find a way to kill him if he told anyone. It was easier without the risk of adding another thing for Dimitri to make fun of him for, anyway.

Mariano wasn't a child anymore. He was a soldier. He was a war mage.

He could get over some stupid nightmares on his own.

Nobody needed to know.

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flayerlinked-archived · 1 year

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anonymous : if you couldn’t be with mike, how hard do you think that would be to move past? do you, realistically, think that you’d be able to find someone else to be with? [ send my muse personal questions on anonymous! // accepting ! ]

the question cuts through him like a searing hot knife through butter, unyielding and merciless, slicing through the pieces of his heart that have long since cracked and lay broken in in jagged shards within his chest. loving mike is the easiest thing in the world, the most natural thing for will to do, and yet it’s also his downfall. the one thing will doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to completely recover from, and he’s already accepted through an abundance of aching heartbreak that such a love could never be reciprocated.

“i- i already don’t think i ever, um- stand a chance of actually being with him, but...” words to serve as a painful disclaimer of sorts, spoken to clear the air and set things straight. his voice is shaky and quiet, the urge to withdraw on himself as strong as ever. “i mean- i almost don’t even know what it’s like to... not be in love with him... how- how do you move on from that...? it just- ah... i dunno... it doesn’t seem- possible, i guess... he- it’s always been him. it’s hard to imagine it ever not being him. nobody gets me like he does, nobody- understands.”

he pauses to take in a deep breath, to gather the rest of his thoughts. a million different things bounce around inside his head, years worth of feelings and inner-conflict bubbling up to the forefront all at once. it’s dizzying, and always hard to make sense of. “people like me, we- we don’t... have a lot of options, y’know...? we can’t just be ourselves and easily find someone to be with. because- revealing that part of ourselves - to anyone - it- it always has risks. it can even be dangerous, and- trusting someone else that much, to tell them who you really are, a-and hope for the best in having a shot with them, i- i don’t know... i don’t know if i’ll ever find someone like that... who- who knows me inside and out, who i can feel comfortable with sharing everything that’s happened to me, and, like- bare my soul to and all that... i- i don’t think there’s ever gonna be anyone for me...”

#anonymous #⇨ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐒 // answered !#[ boy is WHIPPED smh #no but fr- even with the upside down shit will can't imagine meeting someone and developing feelings for them bc 1.#he's madly in love with mike and that's not just smth he can turn off and 2.#how would he ever be able to explain all this shit to another person?? he has nightmares and bad days and all kinds of ptsd thath he'd never #be able to reveal the true cause of to a new person in his life even if he did have a real interest in them #it’s ✨complicated✨ and he feels v hopeless for a whole lotta reasons oof #he's also fifteen and dramatic but y'know- dude's been through some crazy shit and he's got a ton of issues #but anyways yeah now i'm hurting so kajfgadkg ]

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threadsoflacee · 3 months

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in s4 we need blood and gore and broken bones and hannibal having mischa nightmares and yelling at will in a ptsd fear/rage and will having nightmares of the fall and the dragon and we need boiling hot cuba summers and them laying on the floor half naked all day bc they cant do shit bc of their injuries and will’s face being totally disfigured bc of his scar healing wrong bc of all the times he cried in pain when he was just trying to brush his teeth and beginning to hide his smile with his hand and hannibal being devastated about it . we need hushed confessions of love and destruction and hand kissing and slow dancing and obnoxiously expensive suits and even more expensive pyjama shirts and will freaking out about the prices. we need them looking at each other across the room the moment a rude person makes a scene and just nodding in connective understanding. 3 days later theyre eating meat at candle-lit dinner. we need them arguing screaming crying about all the things theyve done to each other and how they can never replace the hurt they caused and desperately apologizing to the other even if they know they cant even accept each other’s apologies themselves. we need them knocked out drunk after a night out stumbling down the dark alleyways of italy and singing loudly in the car and dancing in ballrooms. we need will preening under each compliment hannibal gives him and hannibal not believing any compliment will gives him because he cant believe he deserves this life after all the hurt hes caused. we need hugs and sleeping in the same bed and having breakfast together and staying in all day baking and reading !!!!!!!!! PLEASE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal #hannigram #post fall hannigram #thisis all i ask please. Please i need it please

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sprout-fics · 8 months

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I think abt this all the time so I need to ask you. // whumpy ask ahead

Do you think simon’s ever afraid to sleep with/near his partner bc he gets violent night terrors and he’s terrified he’ll hurt them trying to ‘defend’ himself during a ptsd episode? I don’t think he’d ever be intentionally violent or scary, but I mean the man has been through a metric fucktonne of shit and clearly has survival instincts that rival a grizzly bear, what if he had a night terror and that self-protection instinct kicked in before he could register that he’s safe, he’s not in danger, that someone he loves is on the other end of his self defence? What if he hurt them on accident? What if he’s really as rotten on the inside as he pretends not to be? What if he shatters their trust? The trust he never deserved anyway? What if he’s a monster?

Anyway this thought consumes most of my waking moments. I love him. Put that man in a Shituation

Dark Vision

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OFC 'Fix')

(Of Shadows and Bones Masterlist)

Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: 1.5k Tags: Established Relationship, Sleeping Together, Angst, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Second Person POV Warnings: PTSD nightmares A/N: Anon I literally could not resist not only putting that man in a shituation, I will put that man in a shituation with my beloved Fix

He’s talking in his sleep again.

Strange half-mumblings, words with no meaning that you can hear from behind you, curled as you are on your makeshift bedroll. The abandoned cabin on the rise overlooking your RV point does little to insulate against the chill that comes just before dawn. Both your forms are swallowed in darkness as Soap sits outside on third watch, vigilant for any approaching trespassers who may have followed you from the village the three of you had cased for traces of Makarov. Simon had taken the first watch, and you second. By the time you’d come inside to lay down he’d been curled on his side, solidly asleep and clutching one of his blades in a steadfast grip.

Almost as if he was protecting himself not from his pursuers, but from dreams.

“Tommy-”

Your worried frown deepens as the garbled, cracking call from the soldier behind you. You’d situated yourself not far from him, hardly touching except when you’d stretched out your legs. He’d twitched when your boots had grazed against him, and you thought for a moment he’d wake, levy a snarking remark at you. Instead he sucked in a deep breath, released it, and once more fell still. Now, you can feel him twitching in his sleep- little jolts and shudders as he bodily tries to fight off whatever shadows haunt his mind.

You shouldn’t wake him. You know better than that. Simon isn’t one to appreciate coddling, would merely buck you off and be sour for the next day until he forgot about it. Really, you should just go sit outside with Johnny, feign an excuse of sleeplessness and leave Simon to his restless dreams.

“F-Fix-”

You nearly startle at that, eyes blinking as you’re suddenly wide awake. You sit up, twist to look at Simon’s shuddering form, curled around the knife in his hands with a death grip. He arches, groans at some unseen entity, the sound dragging low in his chest. Again, he calls your name, and whatever phantom clutches at him feels as if it bleeds into your own marrow, whispering fear and ruin.

You shouldn’t wake him.

You really shouldn’t.

You feel your heart race as you gently lay a hand on him anyways, a soothing touch to his shoulder that he doesn’t notice.

“Simon.” You whisper softly, gently scooting closer to him. “Simon, love, it’s just a dream.”

The shiver in his limbs seems to abate a bit at that, and you watch as the grip loosens around the blade. You breathe in relief, feeling him grow lax as you continue to whisper to him in reassuring murmurs, trying to ward off his demons that haunt him even in sleep.

“It’s alright, Simon. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

You lean over him more fully now, hesitantly arranging yourself closer to the curl of his spine. Perhaps the proximity is what he needs, the comfort of another’s touch that he’s always so hesitant to ask of you. Nevermind that Soap is outside. Johnny understands to some degree the relationship between you and Simon, and you pray he’ll ignore any murmurs he hears at least until he can needle you about them later.

You’re careful as you quietly press in behind him, your hand on his shoulder hesitant, and then firm as you adjust your weight-

You feel him stiffen a moment too late.

Simon awakes with a snarl, a wild, feral beast in his fear as he twists towards you, rolls you under him in one swift, powerful motion.

You bring your hands up automatically, years of close combat roaring to life as you try to protect yourself from his violent reaction. Fortunately his movements are weighted with sleep, sluggish to some degree, allowing you to block the hand that moves for your windpipe, seize the wrist holding his knife and drag it well to the side.

It’s still sheathed.

Simon struggles for a moment, and you watch as he sucks in air, chest rising and eyes bright as he tries to make out the figure below him in the darkness. His instincts are on overdrive, adrenaline fully fueling his blood before he was even awake. You know he doesn’t see you, he sees a threat, something that tried to rouse him for ill-intent. For all he knows you could be an enemy, an ambusher, someone trying to kill him in his sleep.

You could be Roba, one of his men.

He grapples with you, twists your hands with a little grunt even as you try to shove him off. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, but there’s a part of you that knows that this is Simon. Simon, who has slept near to you a dozen times, who has been in your bed, who has saved your life, who knows your real name, who once smeared blood from your cheek with a fondness that had stolen the air from your lungs.

“Si-” You try as he hauls your hands above you, forcing yourself to go into limp surrender so as to show you aren’t a threat. “Simon, it’s me. It’s Fix.”

His shoulders are heaving as he finally stills, the blade planted on the floor next to your head. You can see his eyes glinting in the darkness, wild and unfocused, slowly dawning with realization at the sound of your voice.

You force yourself to swallow the rush of startled surprise in your throat, trying to even your breathing and show him you’re alright. He tenses as you speak.

“It’s alright, Simon. It was just a dream.”

Simon stares down at you in the darkness, past his mask, eyes wide with shock. There’s a flash of something you can’t name, one that passes over his eyes quickly as it too fades behind the facade of something forced.

“Fix.” He rumbles, voice hoarse.

You summon a shaky smile. “Yes, love. It’s me.”

“You’re-” He starts, before biting off his words, unwilling to finish whatever sentence has poisoned his mouth.

He releases you then, his adamantium grip slowly sliding off your wrists as he braces above you, staring.

“You were having a nightmare.” You tell him in the silence that follows, and it doesn’t truly touch the words you want to say.

You called my name in your sleep. You were afraid. What did you see? Tell me, please, so I can make it better.

He rolls away from you so his back is once again to you, and you want to chase him, press yourself to his spine as if you’re a shield for his peaceful slumber.

“Go to sleep, Fix.” He tries, and he sounds so tired, weary in a way you want to aid. You observe him, the way moonlight catches on his shoulders from the open window, the hunch of himself as he tries to shake the remnants of his forbidden vision.

“Not tired.” You tell him in return, and he sighs- with annoyance or with resignation, you aren’t sure.

You reach a hand for him. He tenses.

“You shouldn’t have woken me up.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He’s silent at that, and even with his back turned you know he’s fidgeting with his gloves, a sign of distress.

“I could have hurt you.” He says, and it’s almost angry. Not at you, but at himself.

You observe him silently, seeing the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, the way his demons chase him into wakefulness.

“You’d never hurt me.” You tell him, and you watch him sink at that, head bowing forward. “Would you?”

“No.” His answer comes quick, and to anyone else it sounds only prompt. To you, it sounds almost desperate.

“Simon.” You murmur, and stretch forward to touch him again. You lay a hand on his shoulder, and he sucks in a breath, pauses, before he gently lays a gloved palm against your fingers.

“It was just a dream.” You tell him again. He doesn’t nod, but he understands, this you can tell.

“You should sleep.” He replies, softer now, tired and tender.

“Only if you try to sleep too.” You offer, and scoot forward so your cheek now rests on his shoulder, feeling him fully relax against your touch. “Just lay down with me. You can stay awake if you want.”

Simon is silent for a moment, and you hold your breath in anticipation. At last, he turns towards you, arranges you in his arms with his back towards the window, his head tucked at the crown of your head.

You rub gentle circles into his hip as he lays your head on his arm as a pillow, curling around you protectively, almost possessively, as if daring his nightmares to touch you.

You don’t speak. There’s little else to say. You know someday he’ll tell you the thing he saw, the vision of you that had him cry out your name from his nightmares. You trust him to carry it until he’s ready, to keep you in his trust until then, and far after. You curl closer to him with a soft sigh, let your eyelashes flutter into a soft doze.

The knife remains in its sheath, beyond his reach.

(Attaching my usual masterlist for this series because why not)

Tag List: (Reblog this post to be added to future fics from this series! If you'd like to be removed please DM me!)

@dankest-farrik @zwiiicnziiix @moondirti @sritashimada @ladiilokii @yeyinde @sandinthemachine @verdandis-blog @guyfieriiii @fan-of-encouragement @starlitnotes @alicesfracturedmirror @rentaldarling @mockerycrow @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @tinykaka @dumb-djarin @homicidal-slvt @soapskneebrace @nightingale-ghost-writer @selinn777 @nachtcirce @jujubashow @mutuallimbenclosure @kkinky @trash-boi-4-life @scatter-mind001 @alittlefansthings @allaboutirem0 @keiva1000 @makariaspresence @achelois-is-here @nightingale-ghost-writer @altered-delta @thetimidsarcasticcat @nestaarcheronss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @ghxstyops @whotfislynn @gazs-blue-hat @obi-wansorrow

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #mw2 #cod mw22 #Simon ghost riley x oc #reader insert #cod x reader #fic: shadow and bone #oc: fix

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bellamybellamyblake · 5 months

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Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it.

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster?

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe.

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say.

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

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horrorjunki3 · 1 year

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Texas chainsaw massacre slashers with m!reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of insecurities, sexual content if you squint, Discussion of PTSD and Mental illness for choptop and nubbins and unsafe driving

The reader is meant to be interpreted as a men -> trans inclusive ♡

Thomas Hewitt

♡ I feel like Thomas would like a sweet/kind partner -> he has alot of insecurities and you being kind would go ALONG way.

♡ I personally Headcannon that if Tommy was Queer Lunda May knows and picks up on your attraction to Thomas -> how you react to him is what would save your life! She just wants her boy to be happy after all

♡ His first thought when he sees you was that you were just so handsome and when you smile at him he gets all flustered! -> If you compliment his mask, eyes or hair during this time he will kind off shut down till Lunda May steps in to help!! Matchmaker she is!

♡ He'd think your perfect -> nothing could make this man change his mind - Regardless of your insecurities he'd love every part of you

♡ I think he'd love to see you and his momma getting along! Sometimes when he sees how sweet it is he can't help but pull you away and smother you

♡ His a very physically affectionate person -> However at the beginning of the relationship he is very shy and clumsy about it. Once he gets more comfy with you tho his constantly touching you in very wholesome and affectionate ways like holding your hand or a peck on the cheek -> he was raised to be a gentlemen after all

♡ I feel like Tommy's ideal date is cuddling outside of a night time, just basking in his boyfriends love

♡ when Tommy first asks you out he gives you a letter telling you everything he loves -> although he can't speak it doesn't stop him from expressing his love for you through words of affirmation

Choptop/ Robert Sawyer

♡ I feel like Chop would like a guy who has a unique fashion sense or shares his love for music

♡ He loves passionate people -> if you generally love something with all your heart he just listens to you and smiles

♡ I strongly headcannons that he'd let you live if you're a fan of his band Cornbugs.

-> Imagine recognising his voice and stuttering out that you know him -> name a song you like and he will be so smug and flustered

♡ He'd call you pet names like "Big boy, Big daddy, pretty boy, or babe"

♡ Loves when you call him handsome -> after his plate he didn't think anyone would see him as handsome or love him again -> kiss his plate he will melt

♡ He'd love driving Speeding at night and listening to music -> alternatively he will slow down if it scares you

♡ He'd love if you shared your taste for music with him -> makes him feel like he can understand you better

♡ will write love songs for you and sing them -> sings about how perfect you look when discussing your passions

♡ His extermly affectionate! And will grope you at any moment! Your his man and he finds you so perfect he can't help it.

♡ He'd have nightmares and PTSD flash backs -> will come to you for help because you make him feel safe

♡ Please act like a groupie for him -> he doesn't care if it's real or not he'll melt and kiss you like his starving everytime you do

Cornbugs song reccomendations: spot the psycho, pigs are people too, cornbugs and anything from the album "celebrity pyscho"

Nubbins Sawyer

♡ This sweet sweet boy!!

♡ You pick him up hitch-hiking but alternatively to other people you ask questions, listen and care about what his saying. When he takes a photo of you -> you most likely pay him and ask for one of you guys together bc how could you not? His so cute!

♡ He'd take photos of you constantly -> occasionally he'd let you take photos of him. I headcannon that there's this one beautiful photo of him sorting through photos with a smile and it's so cute. (A/N: I've gotta draw that omfg!)

♡ Tells everyone about you -> asks victims if they think his boyfriend handsome - lord help them if they say no

♡ He calls you "Darlin' , Sweetheart and handsome" -> call him pretty boy he loves it!

♡ His ideal date would be having you in his bed while he takes photos of you -> this isn't necessarily sexual he just thinks your perfect and wants to capture it

♡ He loves showering with you and getting spoiled! His so touch starved and loves to be cuddling you, sitting on your lap or anything he just loves it!!

♡ It's cannon that he has Schizophrenia and there will be days that are harder for him -> please be there for him during these times.

♡ He will tease and mock you but it's done lovingly -> doesn't like it when anyone else does it

Bubba sawyer

♡ Much like Tommy Bubba needs a gentle and kind partner! Please tell him his pretty! Tell them they're good!

♡ I headcannon that Bubbas gender queer and uses he/they pronouns!! Please love and support them! Tell him, he looks pretty when they do their make up!

♡ If your sweet and kind to them -> they'll wanna save you like with stretch! Compliment him and call him how pretty he is and he will choose you over the saw!

♡ Bubbas extermly loyal once you become his family he -> he will do anything for you!

♡ They will carry you - even if you think they can't they'Il make an exaggerated noise and just lift ya! They are sooo strong

♡ Gift giving is there love language and they'll make you little brackets and stuff

♡ His a giant teddy bear and loves cuddles and kisses!!!

♡ They will melt if he sees you Helping them family regardless of if it's to do with meat or cleaning! They love their family and seeing you love them? It's the best sight ever

♡ Bubba wants kids! So he'll definitely want to adopt some lil Bubbas or have some animal babies -> they love cats but are never allowed to keep them:( Maybe if you both beg his brothers you can keep them!!

#thomas hewitt x male reader #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher x reader #slasher x you #chop top sawyer #thomas hewitt #nubbins sawyer #nubbins x reader #chop top x reader #robert sawyer #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #leatherface x reader

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olderthannetfic · 8 months

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I recently came across an anti ao3 blog and the pinned post was an essay about how being exposed to sexual content as a teenager gave them ptsd and an older user “groomed” them. And like the screenshots they showed were maybe a little inappropriate but not anything near grooming.

They also claimed they were traumatized by a thorki fic that they claimed had a graphic rape scene so of course I looked it up and it was like mildly kinky with the characters giving full consent. The fic was tagged with the ship and rated E.

Like, it’s not possible to be traumatized by a fic. I’ve read books and seen movies I thought were disturbing or emotionally difficult that lingered in my mind. I’ve read books that gave me nightmares (my meds make me more susceptible to vivid dreams). None of that is trauma. When I was 14 I came across the story Guts by chuck palahnuik bc someone in the redwall forum I was on posted it and this was before tws or cws were prevalent. And guess what I lived lmao

Genuinely if you can’t handle your emotions about fic you either shouldn’t read it or get mommy or daddy to preview it for you

TBH, I have no idea what all can cause lingering trauma. Brains are weird.

But I too have seen such blogs including probably that exact one, and it's tragic how much they don't get what actually happened to them. Typically (and definitely for that one if I'm thinking of the same one), they were a dumb 14-year-old who wanted attention, and they kept doing more and more things that made them uncomfortable, like writing more sexual fic than they wanted to or staying in conversations about dark or sexual topics or consuming some media because someone dared them to.

If they'd had a decent adult around to talk to, maybe they'd have learned the ability to say "no" or maybe they wouldn't have been so desperate for attention and validation from randos or maybe they could at least have processed the experience in a useful way. But they didn't.

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embodyingchaos · 11 months

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Hiiiii can I request something fluff with abner krill like maybe dating headcanons ( Ik it’s pretty basic but I’m a sucker for them 😭) honestly anything that’s fluffy and cute lol

❥ hi there, darling! MY BABY ABNER KRILL AAAAAA ofc i can write dating hcs for THE polka-dot man! i hope you enjoy them! (I'M SORRY THAT THEY'RE SORTA LONG)

dating polka-dot man a.k.a abner krill headcanons warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attacks, ptsd, a bit suggestive at the end HEHEH

OKAY OKAY SO, i would say that abner would definitely not be the one to ask you out first, and if he did, he would be a stuttering mess like “w-would y-you maybe think about.. going on a date?” and you’d be like oh yeah totally, with who? and then he’ll be like “with me” AND HE’D WHISPER IT REALLY SOFTLY AND YOU’D BE LIKE “OH- OH MY GOD YES” HEEHEH

and then every where you guys go for your dates, he would overthink every little thing, like did he pick the right place? did he order the right meal? do you like this kind of thing or should he have asked you where you wanna go and you’ll answer the same thing every time “anywhere is good enough as long as it’s with you” AND HE’D BE BEET RED LIKE BLUSHING CRAZY

abner would definitely be tense for the first few dates before slowly loosening up and relaxing, but even that will take a while

dating abner might be tiring at times, he constantly questions why you’re with someone like him, he’ll constantly be worried that you’ll leave him, but all in all, you’re willing to reassure him with words of affirmation

abner definitely calls you babe, or baby, or just by your name, he doesn’t strike me as a nick name type

though, if you call him any nickname like darling, sweetheart, my love, HE WILL MELT, BE IT IN YOUR ARMS OR ONTO THE FLOOR, HE’LL GET FLUSTERED AND HIDE HIS FACE IN ANY WAY AAAAAA

abner is definitely a little spoon, he feels safe and comfortable in your arms, and every time he’s having a panic attack or ptsd hits, the best way to calm him is to embrace him

he would get nightmares in the middle of the night about his mother abusing him all over again but it would be okay because you're there to hold him tight and tell him that she can't hurt him anymore

he would do the same for you if you had a nightmare or a troubling past, he wouldn't know what to say, but i'd feel like he'd memorise the things you say to him and then repeat them back to you, because he learned from the best ofc

i’d think he gets a little bit jealous, but he trusts you, but yk when insecurity hits, everything just gets a little foggy, he doesn’t want to tell you because he doesn’t want to be a nuisance but you can tell, you’d always kiss his cheek when you know he’s feeling a tad bit insecure and that brightens him up real quick

abner will protect you in any way he can, even if he knows he isn’t that physically strong to win in a fight, he’ll defend you and your honour any time

though usually it’s you who protects him by standing up to people who call him names or are rude to him, he has to calm you down and pull you away so you’d stop cussing at them

i am not including when he’s put in belle reve bc in my headcanons, he doesn’t get sent to prison for murdering his abusive and insane mother bc she definitely had it coming

I WOULD LIKE TO HEADCANON THAT THERE WAS THIS ONE TIME YOU TRIED ON HIS POLKA-DOT MAN SUIT BECAUSE YOU WERE CURIOUS HOW IT WOULD LOOK ON YOU, and he walks in on you and he’s like :0 jaw-dropped, eyes wide open, and you’re like “oh you’re back! i wanted to see how your suit looked on me! i think i look pretty cooOOL-!” yeah, uh, you’re way too attractive for your own good, good luck for the night

#polka dot man #suicide squad 2 #abner krill #abner krill x reader #abner krill headcanons #abner krill oneshot #abner krill imagines #gender neutral #polka dot man x reader #polka dot man headcanons #suicide squad 2 headcanons #reader insert #dating headcanons #abner krill masterlist #polka dot man masterlist #david dastmalchian #david dastmalchian x reader #david dastmalchian masterlist

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penvisions · 8 months

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 9}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Back on Tatooine, where you once resided, a lot of thoughts and emotions consume you. Trying your best to field them while Din is away on a job with an eager young man who is willing to prove himself worthy of joining the very Guild that Din betrayed.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, gun violence, ptsd, trauma, nightmares, physical illness, vomiting, avoidance of food, food trauma, physical descriptions of injuries (brief), thoughts of suicidal ideation, mention of past suicide attempt, mentions of past self-harm (not detailed), description of scars, body image issues, sexual trauma, mention of past SA (not detailed / brief), reference to past captivity / slaving environment, major angst, mental illness

A/N: hello, hello. a lot has been going on in my personal life and i had exams due last week. i received a comment on chapter 7 regarding san's mental health and how it felt 'rushed' bc she didn't exhibit typical trauma responses 'enough'. and while i appreciate the reader reaching out, to hear that i'm not writing an angsty enough exploration of her experiences and trauma was a little disheartening, bc i don't want to write such a full bodied character with a rich background to feel 'glossed over'. especially with having planned exactly that for this chapter. healing isn't linear, good moments and passages of time where things almost seem to be okay is completely normal. so with that in mind, this is a rather heavy chapter, i've had it planned for a while to explore san's mental state now that there is no impending return to her mother or inherent survival instincts she's reliant on with din willing to watch out for and protect her. thank you all for reading, i appreciate each and every one of you, you have no idea how much

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

Sparks flew inside the control room as you rushed to your seat, hands grabbing onto anything it could to help keep balance as you did so, the ship wavering heavily with the effort it was taking to keep the course of flight steady. Alarm blaring to let the pilot and crew know that some damage was taken from a successful hit to one of the engines. Din seemed to be collected, but you could tell that being tracked by another person piloting a ship the second he dropped out of hyperspace was a worry to him. The ship sputtered loudly as the same engine took another hit.

“Hold on.” He announced as he maneuvered the ship into a smooth spiral. The movement offset your sense of gravity and you shut your eyes tight as he tried to evade the determined attacker. One the ship was back into a right side up path, he was muttering to himself too low for you to hear over the cacophony of the ship and blasters raining down all around, some of them zooming past you into the empty space around the ship before tapering off with nothing to land on and cause damage. The bright red of their beams lighting up the near darkness of the control room.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The voice transmission crackled with static as Din quickly jerked one of the few gear shifts, this one seeming to be for some sort of speed control system as the ship lurched to a halt. The spare second of silence with the engines ceasing operation was broken by a twin wooshes that made you think enough damage was done in such a short time that the ship would falter and you’d be left floating dead in space with no running mechanics. Your chest panged with the force of falling forward and the belt around you dug into your front. As soon as you were able to, you turned your head over to the Child, seeing him struggling just the same as you, if not more so due to his size.

With the attacking ship now in front of the Crest, Din quickly locked onto it, the screen beeping with a good track.

“That’s my line.” His voice was even, only a hint of the annoyance he was feeling seeping through before he fired a hit with every blaster canon that was still operating. The ship exploded in front of you with a roar, the flare of it so bright it lit up the control room in a red and orange hue.

Alarms were still blaring as Din tried to gather diagnostics. He only managed to come to one conclusion before the engines powered down and sent you all into darkness, either by his hand or of their own accord to conserve power: the ship was losing fuel.

“Can you flip that back up switch on the wall behind you?”

“Oh, um, yes. Of course.” You unbuckled the belt from around you, still feeling it pressing into your skin even though it had lost its tension. Standing swiftly, you felt around the wall for what he was talking about and flipped it. As soon as you did, a faint red glow signaled that some things were back up and running, drawing from whatever power you had just engaged. He was busy switching switches and pressing controls, trying to get the ship to sputter back to life as much as possible. He seemed to know what he was doing as the engines kicked back on and the ship was moving through space once again.

All was quiet for a few moments of travel until the brightness of an approaching planet came into view, growing to encompass most of the view from the control room as it loomed closer.

“This is Mos Eisley Tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over.”

“Copy that, locked in for three-five.”

“He’s fast asleep.” You carefully cradled the Child in your hands, having decided to bathe him while the ship closed in and landed on the planet. He was snoring quietly, the sound rather cute. It had been a challenge, he was small enough to fit in the fresher sink but he hadn’t been a fan of the water temperature the second it had begun to cool during the endeavor. You had just cooed to him, letting him know with soft words that he was alright and could sleep as long as he liked afterwards.

“We can secure him in my room, while we go and get a lay of the land.”

When you didn’t say anything in response or move to place the bundle in the small space, Din came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm in a silent question. It took you a moment to gather your thoughts, to figure out how to best explain your hesitancy without seeming too…you didn’t even know. You felt guilt for nearly leaving the small being behind in your attempt to run away from your own fate. Abandoning the only other being who you knew had gone through what you had as your temple got stormed and destroyed all those years ago. How easy it had been for you to defer to self-interest and preservation when he was so reliant and those around him. Another victim you hadn’t even given any thought to. He could easily fall into another situation like the one that you had both found yourselves in, captive at the hands of someone willing to sell you for their best interest. But he couldn’t fight his way out of it like you could.

“He’s…he’s so small, what if he wakes up and get confused?” Your breath shuddered as you spoke, giving away the emotions you felt consumed by. You avoided looking over at the man close by, not wanting him to get a better read on your thoughts than he already was by the was you were having trouble speaking and muscles so tight you were worried they would snap if you moved too fast.

“He’ll be okay, we won’t be gone long.”

You nodded before securing him in his own little hammock, the door to the small space shutting and locking behind you as you followed the man down the ramp and into the sunlight. As you did so, three small droids no taller than your knees began to approach with various tools in their hands. The suddenness of Din brandishing his blaster and firing a shot toward them had your next step faltering. Confusion colored your expression at the rather admittedly pointless action.

“Hey!”

A short woman with extremely curly hair in a jumpsuit appeared from inside the hangars enclosed space, brandishing a heavy-duty diagnostic clipboard at him.

“You damage one of my droids, you’re gonna have to pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship.” Din pointed a finger at them as they had popped back up from their cowering crouches and busied themselves in the presence of their owner.

“Yeah? Think that’s a good idea, do you? Let’s look at your ship.” Her eyes took in the tall form of the armored man in front of her, flickering to you behind him still atop the ramp, hidden mostly in the shadows of the interior. You had stopped following so closely as the blaster shot had rang through the air, not wanting to cause any trouble of your own. It was now, you were realizing, that you hadn’t really seen the man interact with another person in such a setting. The display he was putting on new to you after putting so much distance on direct interactions back on Sorgan. You had never actually seen him in a larger, more intricate setting.

Of course he would be different than when alone with you, the cautious and careful demeanor reserved only for you and the Child. Gruff nature seeming to be the way he operated with other people, new people. He didn’t mince words, you realized, and was a man of so little to begin with. It would make sense he had no notion of alluding to things, saying them plainly as they came to him. As the mechanic took a precursory look over the rather battered ship, you adjusted the cloak over your shoulders, making sure the front panels of it covered the handle of your weapon that was fastened to your belt.

The hemming and hawing of the mechanic filled the space with a one-sided conversation as you and Din watched her swivel about, taking stock of things that needed to be repaired and the damage done in such a small interaction.

“How did you even land? That’s gonna set you back.” She stepped away from the ship, facing the armored man directly now. Her expression was serious, the glint in her eye letting you know she was confident in her skills and knowledge to know that what she said was true. That most people didn’t argue with her when she told them what was wrong with their ships.

“I’ve got 500 Imperial credits.” Was his easy response as he reached into a hidden pouch on his belt, pulling out a small pouch.

“That’s all you got?” She swiped the pouch from his offered hand harshly, as if worried he was only brandishing them at her and not actually going to hand them over in exchange for the work. She turned to address the droids that were still milling about the hangar space. “Well, what do you guys think?”

They only chittered in response, now all gathered beside her.

“That should at least cover the hangar.” Her eyes darted from him to you and back.

“I’ll get you your money.” His visor was tilted down as he addressed her seriously, no notes of betrayal in his tone.

“Hmm, I’ve heard that before.” She turned her full attention and sharp eyes to you, apparently done talking with him. “What, your wife not have anything to contribute?”

You resisted the urge to correct her and when Din didn’t your stomach did a flip. You tried not to let that little detail wiggle its way into your already overwhelmed mind, not wanting to dispel energy on overthinking the exchange. She focused on him again, seeing that you weren’t going to respond based on the way you had tensed slightly at her words.

“She’s to help earn credits to pay for the repairs as well.” He didn’t turn toward you as he spoke, keeping his gaze on the rather animated mechanic in front of him. “Just remember-“

“Yeah, no droids. I heard ya. You don’t have to say it twice.” Before she even finished talking, Din was walking off toward what you assumed was an exist route that opened up into the street of Mos Eisley.

His figure disappeared up the small set of steps that lead to it without so much as a glance over his shoulder to see if you were following.

“Jeez. Whomp rat.” The mechanic muttered under her breath. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the exchange, it was so interesting to see him interact with someone who didn’t seem to be afraid or intimidated by him in the slightest. She reminded you a bit of Cara and it softened your heart despite the words she had used to address you.

“You coulda picked a nicer man. With better people skills, no idea how he managed to get you.”

“He’s alright most of the time.” You offered her a small smile, reaching into your own pocket. Ignoring the way your chest fluttered at the insinuation of her words, you held out a small pouch of credits to her as well. You had divvied up your own currency when taking stock of things last night, wanting to keep some aboard the ship, some in your bag, and some on your person in case anything should arise. You had forgone your bag today, opting to leave it on the ship since you didn’t anticipate being gone long despite not knowing what was on the mental do-to list of your companion.

“For your troubles.” She reached out far more gently than she had with Din. Opening the pouch to quickly look over what you had just handed her. She looked up to you, with a cheeky grin you weren’t too sure how to read.

“This will help cover the repair for the fuel line, but it’s a lot of damage.”

“We’ll get you the money, you have my word.” As you turned, the front of your cloak lifted with a gust of wind, your weapon glinting in the sunlight. Her eyes widened slightly at the exposure of it, but her demeanor didn’t change in the slightest. She simply nodded at you and waved you away to get started on the repairs. Turning her attention to the droids, she started barking orders of things for them to fetch her.

The streets were busy, the further you followed Din into the city, away from the hangar and the outskirts that bled into the openness of the desert. You tried to keep a distance of a few feet behind him, but he was a fast walker. As he turned a corner, you spied a display of storm trooper helmets mounted on spikes and your heart nearly stopped. Steps faltering, you stood in front of them and took in the rust and blood that had been baked into the metal from the heat of the suns. They had to have been here for years. But for all the Maker was good, you couldn’t recall ever seeing the set up before during your previous time on the planet. Maybe you had been too preoccupied, maybe it had been a recent installment as a result of a battle?

You knew there were Imperial remnants scattered all over the galaxy, that much was to be expected after such an all-encompassing and long regime. But you hadn’t faced an actual storm trooper since before your capture, when whispers of the Empire falling had just begun to spread through word of mouth and the destruction of the Death Star was still a startling event. You had considered coming out of hiding then, to reach out to the few who had been rumored to help eradicate the whole organization. But you had been scared, worried, ashamed.

The names Luke and Leia Skywalker said on every planet, ushered in reverent tones. You hadn’t been in touch with the Force much during those days, your saber locked away in a trunk and buried deep in the place you hadn’t been able to call home, despite being there for so long at that point. Meditation and practiced routines with a wooden staff had been all that you kept up from your training, worried about drawing attention by doing anything else even that far out into the desert with no one the wiser of where you were.

Your mind was trying fruitlessly to supply a reason as to why they were there in front of you, but it couldn’t. It just was. Glaringly, jarringly there.

“They got what was comin’ to them.” A passerby nodded at you, noticing the way you seemed almost frozen in your stance. You nodded back to them, not willing to verbally speak with the person. They moved on down the street, in the direction opposite of where you had been following Din’s lead. The man’s steps were shuffling, while Din’s were not. The armored man was suddenly beside you and when you turned back around you tried not to let your surprise show.

He looked from you to the helmets and back. The heat of his eyes through the visor could rival the suns for all the concentration he was focusing on you in that moment. As if he was trying to read everything, he could from the way wrinkles formed over your brow as it had furrowed to the slightest downturn of your lips as your gaze focused on the display before you and he was catching a glimpse of the memories playing behind them.

“Cuyir gar jate?”

Are you okay?

Pitched low, a few feet from you, you would be the only one to hear his words. They didn’t register for a second, your thoughts consuming you again the moment white armor filled your gaze. Anxiety hummed through you, making your fingers and arms tingle, your legs tense. Your lungs felt much like they had when still healing from the metal that had made a home in and around them, all those weeks ago, it was hard to take a full breath.

“Elek, ni ceta.”

Yes, I’m sorry.

“Nayc linibar at cuyir. Ni shi turned rud bal gar rucuyir dar.”

No need to be. I just turned around and you were gone.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, a breath of space between the pauldrons atop his and the fabric of your cloak. Being this close allowed you the realization that he made up a large, broad figure. Intimidating to some, but you were beginning to see around the walls he had meticulously built and underneath the armor. Privy to things most people never would be, all because he was letting you. Maybe letting him catch a glimpse of your own nature would be helpful…

“Ganar gar ru'akaanir ti verde?”

Have you fought with them before?

“Elek, val ru'ram'or te jetiise bajur-taap.”

Yes, they attacked the Jedi school.

“Pehea ruug'la rucuyir gar?”

How old were you?

“Ta'raysh.”

Ten.

Silence fell, something permeating it that you didn’t want to explore. Emotions overwhelming and the conversation too real to handle, despite giving the man answers to the questions he had asked. Having wanted to provide answers to him. He had wanted to know, however small and painful, he had wanted to know. You could understand that, you were traveling on his ship after all. Of course he wanted to know some things about you. Needing to be alone, to not have the weight of the visor trained on you, you took a step back and looked down the street to your right. A faint buzz of conversation and movement could be heard from further down, indicating that the marketplace wasn’t too far from your position.

“Ni linibar kebise, cuyir bic jate par ni at slanar?”

I need some things, is it okay for me to go?

Feeling the small tug at the corner of your mouth as you try to mask your emotions from the man in front of you, you cut your eyes at him to get a glimpse. The visor stayed still, facing the display of the helmets still, but that didn’t mean that where his attention was focused. He could’ve very well been clocking the nerves that were sparking all along your body as anxiety smoldered inside and you would be none the wiser.

“Urcir norac sha te crest?”

Meet back at the Crest?

All you could manage was a single nod of confirmation before you were walking away from him, down a side street.

There was no trace of you other than the collection of things that had been deposited atop the makeshift table when Din returned to the hangar and ascended the ramp into the Crest. He scanned the space of the hold, not finding any other hints as to where you were other than your cloak neatly folded and placed atop the crate he had given you to store your belongings in. Heaving a sigh, he went to retrieve a bag of his own when the open door of his quarters caught his attention. The small space was empty, the blanket you had wrapped the Child in laying in a crumpled heap right in the middle of the cot.

“Hey!” His voice boomed across the hangar as he bounded down the ramp with quick steps, tension drawing him tight and sparking the beginning of a headache about his temples. The unknown on top of the questions he hadn’t been able to keep quelled earlier today in front of those kriffing helmets. The stab of fear that he pushed you had made his chest tight underneath the armor until you had given him answers. Something he had so selfishly sought out from you, knowing he had to right. But you had shared with him.

The commotion of the mechanic jolting awake could be heard from somewhere within the enclosed area of the surrounding infrastructure. Calls of her being there and awake making their way to his ears as he tried to push down the panic that rose in him the longer he didn’t know where you or the Kid were.

Surely you wouldn’t have just taken him and run? You couldn’t have, you had all but promised him you would return to the ship. Why would you have purchased whatever you had and left it only to disappear with the Child?

“Where is he?” Din gruffly demanded as her small form appeared, cradling the Child in her arms.

“Quiet! Oh, you woke it up!” She spoke between soft hushes and bounces in an attempt to calm him down. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?”

“Give him to me.” Din pointed a finger at her, letting his anger and emotions get the better of him in light of the unknown

“Not so fast.” She fired back at him, her own annoyance flaring at his aggressive behavior. “You know, you have an awful lot to learn about raising a young one. At least your wife, really nice girl, came back and asked me to watch over him if he woke up.”

“She left?” His tone was still harsh, but not as loud now, as he realized everything seemed okay. It was good, you had come back and tended to the Child when you dropped off whatever you had gotten at the marketplace. Visor aimed at the now calm form of the Child, taking in the way he seemed to be okay at the mention of you and in the arms of the mechanic. He was gazing up at her with wide, curious eyes.

“Said she needed a few more things but wanted to check on the little one. A load more responsible than you, not even telling me he was on board all alone.”

“Was… she okay when she returned?” Din was hesitant to ask but pushed through the feeling because the need to know overwhelmed him. He could ask you, he was aware of that, but you would most likely give a perfunctory answer. Something to appease him and seem like everything was okay or at least that you have everything under control. But the shouting, the nightmare, the crying he could hear from the shower the night before. The way you had seemed so hopeless and fragile when you said you could still feel their hands all over you…

It was concerning. Din could help to heal your body, heal you of physical injuries and tend to them as they required. Should you allow him to. But mentally? He had no idea how to even offer his help, beyond pulling you to him and making you feel safe. But even that could be in poor taste, he was realizing, when so much of your trauma stemmed from physical touch in the first place.

“Seemed alright, a little anxious. Was kind enough to bring me some lunch.”

“Did she eat?”

“I don’t know, I’m not her keeper.” The mechanic tempered back with a huff. She seemed to soften momentarily, as she hushed and bounced the Child in her arms once again. “I didn’t see it, but she could’ve while out and about.”

She continued on to let him know the progress on the ship, messing with the diagnostic readings on the mechanics she had hooked the ship up to. As she spoke, he retrieved the bag he had come back for, letting it hang from his hand in favor of tossing it over his shoulder. With a rather pointed remark about starting the other repairs aside from the fuel line, she glanced down at the cooing Kid in her arms.

“I figured you were good for the money, since you have an extra mouth to feed and the reassurances of your wife.”

“Thank you,” His words were sincere, relief flooding him as everything did seem to be okay. You had come back with a promise to return, talked to the mechanic to check on the progress of the repairs, assured her of proper payment, and acted with responsibility.

The mechanic seemed momentarily taken aback by his genuine thanks, much like you had been when he first extended what comforts he could provide to you.

As you rounded the corner, with a heavy second haul of items, you took notice of the scene in front of the hangar door. There was a young man beside two speeders, the mechanic who was holding the Child securely in her arms, and Din, who you could sense was rather tense even from the distance.

“Hey, Mando. What do you think?” A younger man preened as he leaned back against one of the two speeders parked outside of the hanger. He was about your height, if not a bit taller. Dark hair, an earring glinted in the two-fold sunshine beaming down on the planet, and predominantly black outfit with blue accents and vest. No armor adorned his body. Seemingly proud of himself for collecting them at what you were sure was the behest of Din, possibly for a job he managed to find. “Not too shabby, huh?”

Din was busy placing his bag atop the one closest to him, walking up and down the length of it as he looked it over. You watched him as he did so, approaching the small group.

“What’d you expect? This ain’t Corelia.” The young man nodded his head in greeting toward the mechanic. She didn’t seem too impressed, but the Child giggled in her arms, drawing attention to himself. Your approaching figure caught the young man’s attention and his brows disappeared into his dark hairline as you looked you over.

You had forgone your cloak for your second run into the city, needing to try on vambraces and some other items. That left you in your high collared tank top, your upper arms exposed and feeling the heat of the day. Your saber was secured inside the pouch fastened by two straps to your right thigh, over the black of your form fitting trousers. You had already made the knee pads you purchased as a part of your attire. In a huff of exasperation in the middle of the marketplace, you had braided your hair to one side and looped it on along the back of your neck with a pin.

“And who might you be?”

You ignored him, not liking his tone or the air about him. His entire demeanor and presence activating your instincts for flight. Instead, you sidled up a few feet from Din.

“Oh c’mon, don’t be that way. I’m here to help your friend, Mando.” The volume of his voice rose a little, making you uncomfortable even more so. You fixed him with a stern look, letting him know you weren’t going to play along, manners were for nice people and something about him didn’t sit right with you. He held his hands up in mock surrender, though the cheeky grin pulling at his lips made your skin crawl. He was exactly the type of person who you would’ve sourced information from once upon a time, but now you wanted nothing to do with his type.

“Mar’eyir a bora?” Find a job? You turned your attention back to the armor wall that Din made up, the beskar glinting beautifully where the suns shown on it directly, not wanting to deal with the young man anymore.

“Yes.” He responded in Basic, closing the distance between you and reaching for the strap of your bag to gently pull it from you. As he did so, he pressed his helmet to your forehead by way of greeting. The hand he wasn’t holding the bag with hovered over the small of your back as he walked you toward the entrance of the hangar space. He hadn’t touched you since untangling from you earlier in the day and it was thrilling, despite it being so casual. Despite the mental exhaustion that was settling in from a day of interaction with too many people.

“Give me a minute.” Were the simple words thrown over his shoulder as he guided you through the door and down the steps into the enclosed space. The ship was open, as you had left it, and the side paneling along it was removed to show where the mechanic was working on things. You let him guide you further, toward the ship. He placed your bag town on the makeshift table, beside the one you had already dropped off earlier before turning to face you. He just took in the way you began to dig through it, pulling out a pouch that clinked. You opened it to reveal thin, dark rings of metal. Setting it aside you pulled out a vambrace, one that was made of a dark metal as well, it would fit perfectly over the gloves you adorned.

“I haven’t programmed my chain code into it yet, I’m a little hesitant to, if I’m being honest. But I got one with communication controls.” You held it up to show him with a small grin, rather proud of your find and the cost hadn’t been too bad to get it up and running. The scrubbing and reprogramming had been a bit steep, but it would be worth it to have a scrapped mechanism you could customize for your needs. “It only has short range, but I figured that would be good enough for while you’re out on jobs or I’m away from the ship.”

When no answer came from him, you turned worried eyes over the helmet. Your mouth was open, and words were rushing out before you could stop them. Letting the man in front of you be privy to the overthinking nature that you possessed. Prattling was a nervous habit, one that you had thought you had grown out of being alone a majority of the time, it having turned into stubborn silence in wake of a mental barrage. But something about the man in front of you brought it back to life. Not wanting to seem like a bother or say the wrong thing and then ending up saying a whole lot more than was necessary.

“That is, if you want to keep in touch while separated. I didn’t mean to insinuate that I needed to be able to get ahold of you at all times. You’re a grown man. I’m assuming? I mean, I’ve seen…you…before but you’re rather fit and that doesn’t really reflect age. Oh Maker, I don’t even know how old you are, I might be older than you.” You ducked your gaze, eyes focusing on the cuirass as you felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck. Self-consciousness taking a hold of you with its gnarled hands and pulling to make your skin feel too tight and uncomfortable.

“Calm, mesh’la.” Din’s deep voice washed over you in an easy chuckle paired with the nickname he favored had your stomach fluttering. He closed the distance and brought a gloved palm grip to rest it atop both of your hands where the vambrace was still in your grip. You hadn’t realized that they had begun to tremble slightly.

“I just- I don’t want to overstep.”

“It was good for you to get a comm link.” His fingers tangled with your own as he took the vambrace from you and began to inspect it. With the helmet no longer trained on you so directly, it was easier to take a deep breath to recenter. The device beeped to life under his gloved fingers, and he punched in some information before holding moving to fit it over your hand and secured it to your left wrist. He lifted a hand to the right side of his helmet and your comm link blinked to signal an incoming transmission. All set, it seemed. “Your puck had your age displayed, we’re very close.”

He shifted on his feet, creating space as he did so. A weird tension blossomed in the space, putting you on edge. Both of you so consumed by internal conflicts and worries. Of the unknown that had settled over the coming days.

“Don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Okay.”

“Just… be here when I return.”

“O-of course.”

Without another word, the armored man departed.

Being aboard the ship alone was a weird phenomenon. Yes, the Child was still with you, but it was a foreign feeling to be here without the shape and presence of Din Djarin. He had told you that the space was yours as much as it was his, but that hadn’t settled into a concrete thing quite yet. It was still new, all of it and it was overwhelming.

Being out of captivity, being free, traveling, being on a ship. Having a ship be your new settlement of sorts, something you hadn’t ever really considered as you sought out whatever peace you could, too ignorant of ship mechanics and it being too handsome of an investment to make. Breathing out a heavy sigh, you cradled the small figure in your lap. You had been sat for quite a while, meditating. The Child settling into the space of your crossed legs to do the same. It had taken him a long time to settle and focus, as it always did when he wanted to join you, but once he did he had been silent for as long as he was able to.

He was fidgeting now, breaking your own concentration.

Feeling a little foolish, you hit the call button on your vambrace. Heart beating fast as it waited for pickup to make a connection. When it pinged, you startled a little at how quickly the low, full-bodied voice displayed cleanly over the line.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing! Everything is okay.” You had no idea why you were so nervous; it was just a conversation.

“…okay.”

“Um, I was- I was wondering if I could take ad’ika out for a while.” You gathered the Child in the crook of your right arm, his eyes trained on the small speaker Din’s voice was coming from. He cooed as you stood, reaching for the vambrace, but you offered him your fingers instead. He gripped them tight, legs kicking out slightly as he wiggled about. You felt a wide smile pull at your lips as he loosened his grip and you made grabby motions at him, picking at the fabric of his outfit. His giggles were loud, and it made warmth blossom in your chest to hear them so unbridled. Your own soft laughter joining his. “Just for some fresh air! We’re so far from the city center, just around the hangar, so he can see the sunset.”

“That…should be fine.”

“Only if you’re okay with it. He’s in your care.”

“Ad’ika?”

“Oh,” You breathed a gentle laugh at the confusion you detected in his single word. Setting the happy child down atop the makeshift table, you opened a cannister of fruit for him to munch on before moving toward the paneling. You finished your thought as you opened it up to reveal the small kitchen set up and reached to activate the caf brewer, slightly nervous he was going to tell you it was an unnecessary shift. “Figured since we don’t know his name and he doesn’t want to tell me.”

“He talks to you, in actual words?”

“No, no, um, it’s…rather complicated.” You tried not to huff out your exasperation of finding only one pod of caf left in a storage drawer. You popped it into place and set a mug underneath where it would brew from once finished. The clink of the mug was loud, creating a bit of static over the line.

“No words. But talks.”

“…yes.”

“Letting him watch the sunset should be fine.”

“I’ll be on high alert, just want him to not feel trapped here on the ship is all.” When nothing was said in response, you shifted your weight from leg to leg as you stood before the caf machine began to brew with a sputter. “Okay, well, um, thank you.”

The line disconnected.

“Okay, ad’ika, we’re waiting on this drink, and we can go outside.” You turned to smile at him atop the makeshift table, trying to push down the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. His little trill of a response fell on deaf ears. The guilt of having just messed up somehow bubbling up and making it hard to think. You focused on the line of liquid as it cascaded down from the machine into the mug, the noises it was making as it did so to try and center yourself.

Holding a steaming mug in one hand and a small snack in the other, you let the Child walk alongside you down the ramp and through the hangar space. You waved in greeting at the mechanic who was milling about. It seemed like she was about done for the day, the droids gathering things and putting them away in a flurry of movement around her. She returned the wave before disappearing inside.

“We have to be careful, okay?” We aren’t taking anything for you to hide in, so if you get scared I’ll hold you, got it?” You glanced down at him beside you as you walked through the door that led out to the street. He nodded, making little noises as he took in the empty surroundings. With the suns so close to the horizon, about to disappear beneath it, many people were already retired for the day.

You settled yourself against the wall that made up the hangar, facing the direction of the suns as they began to dip down and disappear. Sipping from the mug in your hand as you crossed your legs in front of you, leaving them stretched out from being busy all day. You had tried to understand what the mechanic was doing, asking her questions and to walk you through the basics of what she was doing before you had moved onto other things and looking after the small figure that was currently bustling about in front of you.

He was seated as well, small claws reaching out to play with rocks and watch a scant lizard or bug as it crawled about. Something with a stinger got too close to him and you waved a hand to get it away from him, the tingles of the Force sparking in your palm. That drew his attention back to you, his eyes focused on the snack you had brought out and was resting on your knee. He held a hand out much like you had just done and closed his eyes in concentration. The furrowing of his small brow created deep wrinkles and it made you hold a laugh back at how much like an old man he looked with them. The snack lifted into the air slightly, wobbled, and then fell back to your knee with a muffled thump.

“It’s tough, I know.” You soothed, knowing how hard it was to begin to harness the energy of things. The concentration and focus it took second nature to you at this point. Something that had come back to you easily, you were thankful for, after so many years of the ability being dormant. You raised a hand and motioned for him to give it another try. His eyes closed and he spread his claw wider.

The snack hurdled toward him, too fast for him to catch it and it smacked him in the forehead before falling to the sand. He let out a startled noise as it did, his wide eyes beseeching as he looked at you. You were setting down your mug and rushing over to him as his eyes watered and he began to breathe in a weird staccato.

“Oh, hey, hey, no, no.” Reaching for him, you pulled him to your chest and his claws dug into the fabric of your cloak. “You’re okay, ad’ika.”

You both sat there, watching the sky fade from orange hues to the darkness of night. As stars began to twinkle above, you pushed yourself up and made your way back to the Crest, the small creature fast asleep in your tight embrace.

Deciding on a shower to wash away the day, you wrestled with the notion of whether or not you should disengage the ramp to close up the ship. You trusted the mechanic, but that could only go so far. She said she had engaged the alarm system for the hangar once you returned, letting you know that she had shared it with your husband.

You knew she meant the word as a way of referring to Din, not knowing his name or knowing what else to call him. But that word, that term, it felt like a threat. The last time you had heard it, it had been one and it was triggering as all the ugly details of the last encounter you had with your mother rose up along with the acidic burn of bile in your throat.

It felt like something was coming alive in your very body, awakening after a long slumber, and stretching its claws up your chest as it unfurled. Something dark and sinister, the weight of it suffocating and making it hard to breathe. It was something you recognized, something you knew too well as it perked up and burrowed into you, like it knew it was home and there to stay. Your head felt light as quick breaths were all you could manage.

Double checking that the door to Din’s personal quarters was locked and the Child was safely inside, you moved into the fresher with hands guiding you along the walls. Locking that door behind you, you turned the water on full blast, cranking the handle to make it as hot as it would go. The first drops of water barely had time to travel down to hit the tile of the stall floor before you were throwing up what little was in your stomach.

Tearing the off, it piled on the floor around you before you stepped into the stall. You hissed as the water hit your skin, the heat and steam of it filling the small room in almost a suffocating way. But it was welcome, the strong of it on your skin as it drowned the thing that was stirring inside. You had sunk to your knees, sitting right underneath the stream of water. Hanging your head, the wet locks of your hair stuck to your body as you got lost in the thoughts of how the day had felt too easy, too normal.

Everything from the way you had woken up to an empty bed after sleeping tangled in the arms of a man you hardly knew to the domesticity of talking to him on the comm link as you and the Child played around. It was all so casual, so domestic, so completely ordinary. And it felt good, to experience normal things, things people took for granted. And that felt bad, the guilt of wanting it to continue. To keep living when for so long you hadn’t wanted to.

You had done so many questionable things in your life, faced so many threats and that was before becoming the shell of a person at the hands of bandits had turned you into, who kept you so drugged up you hadn’t even known where you had been. You didn’t deserve any of it and how could you?

The berating words and actions of your mother having molded into your very psyche reminding you that you were a bad person for choosing to live your life the way you had wanted to at a young age. That choice leading you to a life on the run, to a life of stealing and cheating and hurting others to ensure your own protection. That choice leading to a target on your back that wouldn’t disappear until you took your last breath. It was all your fault, the hand you had been dealt. All a result of wanting to learn how to harness the skill a stranger had noticed in you.

Lightly tracing the scars you had dug into the skin of your thighs, your hands began to shake with wracking sobs. Tears falling fat and heavy from your eyes to coalesce with the steaming water cascading down your body. Eyes unfocused as you tried to watch the way your nails were now digging into the flesh as you gripped your legs so tight your knuckles popped.

Just as you were standing from your seat at the makeshift table, skeleton assembly of what would turn into a set of pauldrons, you sighed. It was late, sleep evading you in wake of your breakdown. To distract yourself, you had set to working with your hands, beginning to work the materials you had gathered into armor for yourself.

The metal rings in various sizes you had purchased earlier were strewn about in small, organized piles alongside two types of pliers, a mandrel, and a pair of snug leather gloves to protect your fingers as you worked. You had purchased rings that were already annealed twice over, before and after the openings were flattened and drifted in the traditional wedge style you preferred over circular. It would turn into a sturdier piece, the strength due to the harder to damage bonding.

Stretching your back, hands on your lower back you paused as faint footsteps sounded outside as someone trekked toward the ship. Shrugging your cloak on over the full outfit you had changed into after your shower, you made sure the Child was secure in the hammock and hit the panel beside the door to close the small space off from the rest of the ship, the mechanism for the lock clicking.

A blaster shot buzzed through the air and you dodged it, the hit making contact with the paneling behind you. It pinged before ricocheting and the single light you had on went out with a pop. A muttered curse was all the warning you had as you turned on your feet and raised a hand, reaching out with the Force to hold whoever had dared to enter the ship in place. The figure looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t place them in the sudden darkness of the ship.

The sounds of the person struggling against the hold you had on them were too close for comfort, and you swiped a foot out to kick their feet out from under them. As they went down, they fired something that wasn’t a blaster. The sting of something sharp reverberated down your right arm, tingling as a cool feeling washed through your veins almost immediately.

“Sedative, learned from a friend it would be the only way to take you down.” The voice spoke into the darkness, not registering quite yet in your mind. You cursed, pulling the long needle from where it had penetrated the fabric of your cloak to embed itself into the flesh of your arm. You dropped it to the ground, feeling the coolness of the sedative take over, lighting you up and muddling your brain in a way you hadn’t been in weeks.

You tried to move away, to put the makeshift table between you and the voice, but you ended up leaning heavily on the surface, arms already feeling too heavy to control. The hush of a blade being drawn had your heart beating a little faster, only aiding in the drugs taking over that much faster.

Breath hissing out as the blade sliced into the side of your thigh, you tried to step back but stumbled as your legs felt as if weights had been tied to them. Arms swiping across the table as you tried to balance yourself, sending the metal rings atop it to scatter everywhere with little pings. Vision wavering from focused to fuzzy made it hard to see the rope and cuff links now in the man’s hands, mind too sluggish to listen to your instincts and put up more of a fight. Blinking profusely, your eyes took in younger man Din had left with yesterday. Only Din was nowhere to be seen and the man seemed particularly focused on you.

“Don’t hurt either of them, take me. Turn me in. Let them go, my bounty is high.” You could only watch as he approached you, body too heavy to usher away from him. His response sounded so far away, as if you were struggling to hear him across a vast distance and not a few feet.

“How many times do I have to tell you people, I don’t care about the money.” He snarled, face ugly as it contorted with his anger and continued misunderstanding. He shoved you harshly to the ground, the body that was no longer under your own control going with the movement. The rings scattered over the floor dug into your skin and clothing, stinging as they did so. He threw himself over you, legs heavy on your own as he pinned you to the floor, reaching to secure the cuffs over your wrist. You swiped out as adrenaline sparked at being pinned down, surging up as best you could with bared teeth. He screamed as you raked your nails down the column of his neck as hard as you could manage, drawing blood in thin lines.

With a scowl he took hold of the front of your cloak and slammed your head down to crack against the metal of the floor. You shouted out at the pain that blossomed there, fuzzy vision graying at the edges.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just let them be.” Your words slurred as you begged, too far gone to do anything else, the sedative he used was either high quality or he had used a lot of it. If it was the only way to get him to change his mind, alter the motives he was working off of, then it was an offer you would make. For the sake of the Child, for the sake of his safety with Din. You could faintly sense the tears that were falling from your eyes, the thought of the Child being captured hurting even more than the predicament you were in. You would take on the world for him to have a good life, the chance at a good life.

“Not lookin’ for that type of action right now, sweetheart.” Your attacker moved to cuff your ankles together over the leather of your boots. The rope in his hands going around them next. “But Mando is in for a surprise if he ever finds his way out of the desert. His quarries are mine now.”

The look of triumph that could be glimpsed from the faint light seeping into the ship was the last thing you saw as your vision blacked out completely.

The run was rising just as the mount Din had secured entered the outskirts of Mos Eisley. The deep navy-blue of the night sky fading on the horizon to the muted haze of peach sunlight that was cresting over in the signal of a new day. Everything was quiet, the city asleep in the early hour. Outside the hangar entrance was the speeder Din had been comfortable leaving behind with Callican, foolishly he muses now. Whatever had transpired between the young man and Fennec Shand had inspired his abandonment of the job to capture her. Din could only hope that Callican hadn’t done anything too foolish or rash in his shifted focus.

Brandishing his blaster, Din entered the hangar space with quiet steps.

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taglist: @strawberri-blonde @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers by the lovely saradika

112 notes · View notes

axelsagewrites · 1 year

Note

it'd be cool to see some theon fluff :) maybe from the era after he escapes from ramsey bc that boy deserves some comfort omg (also if you could use he/him pronouns that would be cool too!)

Theon*Dream of Sweet Memories

Pairing: Theon x m!reader

Platonic: Jon, Robb, Sansa, x reader

Summary: Reader helps Theon recover from a nightmare and reflects on their past

Tw: Theon having ptsd

Word count: 1474

Masterlist Here

Winterfell felt colder than before. The hollow halls of your childhood had been through so much the past few years. Now you were back, the war was over, Sansa was queen in the North, Bran in the south. Robb was dead, Jon was gone, Arya too. Sansa was kind but you had never been close. Your family was all but gone as well. There was one thing left though one thing that made all the pain, all the suffering, the war worth it.

Theon lay asleep on your bed, his face relaxed as he slumbered. The last candle that was burner illuminated a small portion of the room but enough for you to admire his features in the candlelight. His hair was soft under your touch as you stroked it gently.

Moments like this were rare. Theon was skittish, paranoid, quiet. He’d never been this quiet before. Robb was the loud one who knocked into everything and everyone, who’s barking laugh rang across the hall. Theon was the funny one, always a joke up his sleeve that he would loudly proclaim to anyone who would hear. Jon was quiet in public but when the four of you would hang out in the stables he was just as loud as Theon, and they would banter long into the night.

Theon had always joked you were practically a mute. You liked to listen and laugh along, adding in your own comments occasionally. Theon tried to drag the conversation out of you. He’d ask a million questions just to get you to speak. Tell jokes just to make you laugh. It was usual for you to be left out of discussions, but Theon had always made sure to drag you into them even when you didn’t want him too.

You opened up more in your chambers, laughing and cheering with him especially after a drink. You’d both gossip like it was nobodies’ business. Theon was shocked when he found out you were actually funny. He spent months, years, growing your confidence but even still you were always the quiet one.

Till now at least. Theon could barely look you in the eyes when you were reunited. He was ashamed. Ashamed of everything he had done, everything he had caused. Jon wanted to hate him, wanted you to hate him, but he couldn’t after he saved Sansa. You wanted to hate him too, but you couldn’t. you had thought for months if you ever saw him again the first thing you would do was punch him. Then he walked through those gates.

He was meek, quiet, skittish. He looked like even walking was a battle for him. And gods were he skinny now. When he walked through the gates you weren’t angry. A warmth poured through your heart. Theon looked up and instantly away again when he saw you. he couldn’t face you.

You didn’t even realise you were walking, running even, till you had pulled him into your arms. Theon froze at first, stiff as ice but it soon melted. His head fell into your shoulder, his arms wrapping weakly around your waist. Your hand clamped against his head, holding it tight against you, “If you ever leave me again, I’ll fucking kill you Greyjoy, understand?”

He hadn’t left your side since. You had been so distracted by your thoughts you hadn’t noticed him stirring. You looked down at his face which was contorted with worry, his lips mouthing something you couldn’t fully hear. Leaning down, you tried to listen, “Please,” you managed to make out, “not please,” he mumbled, “no, no, no,” he began to rush out, you sat up about to shake him awake when a shrill shriek rang across the room.

Theon’s cried echoed around the cold chamber, his body stiff as a bored as his body flung himself up, backing away up the bed. “Theon!” you yelled, trying to grab his flailing arms, “It’s me! Its (Y/N)! You’re safe,” you said as you grabbed his shoulders.

Theon’s eyes danced crazily across the room till they settled on you, his hands grasping onto your shoulders, “(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s me my love,” you said as you held his face softly in your hands, “It’s just us you’re safe Theon,”

“No, Im not Theon im- “

“Reeks dead Theon,” you said, moving to kneel on either sides of his legs so you could face him straight on, “Ramsay’s dead Theon. Its okay. you’re safe I promise,”

Theon stopped for a moment, his eyes dazed as he stared into space before finally turning back to you, “I was so scared,” he whimpered, “it was like he was back,”

“He’s not coming back Theon,” you said, stroking his cheek, “I’m here sweetheart. I’ve got you,”

“You’ve got me,” he whispered, and you just nodded, smiling lightly at the terrified boy.

You moved to be laying on the bed again, bringing Theon into your arms as you cradled his shaking body, “Nothings gonna happen to you. I promise,” you said, kissing the back of his head.

Heavy sobs fell from his lips, shaking his body. The feeling brought tears to your own eyes but all you could do was hold him. “I wish I could be normal again,” Theon whispered.

“You will be,” you said as you began to stroke his hair, “but it’ll take time,”

Silence fell over the room for a moment, “Sometimes,” Theon began to croak out, “I wonder if I deserved it all, for what I did to Robb, to you,”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips, “No one deserves what Ramsay did to you. no one. It’s a fate worse than death but you survived it because you’re strong, because it’s your fate to go on. If things had went differently Robb would’ve forgiven, you. you know that”

“That just makes it worse,” he whispered, his voice horse from his whimpering, “I wish I had stayed with him. At least he treated me like family, he was my family,”

“We cannot change the past,” you said as you moved Theon to face you, stroking his cheek lightly, “But we can live for the future. You saved Sansa, you helped save Bran. Robb would be grateful for that. Now you must live for him, protect Winterfell for him,” you said, and Theon just nodded.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and fell into a comfortable silence. Before the war Theon had just been a friend to you though you couldn’t help your stares after him. The way his laugh light up a room, his jokes never failing to cheer you up, how his smile curved. He fascinated you. he didn’t admit it, but he had always felt the same.

You grew even closer when you both rode off with Robb, sharing a tent to save on supplies. There had been a moment, one night after a particularly hard battle. The cold was settling in, and it was bitter.

******

“Your chattering so loud Tywin can hear,” Theon whispered from across the tent as he sat up beneath his thin furs. “Get over here,”

“I um but what if someone- “

“Get under these furs before we freeze to death,” he said rolling his eyes. You did as you had been told as slipped under the furs beside the boy. “See already better,” he whispered.

You rolled over to face the other side of the tent to try concealing the blush coating your cheeks. However, you were confused when you heard Theon shuffling then blushed even harder when you felt his arms reach around your body, “What are you doing?” you whispered back.

“I can’t have my best friend freezing to death,” he replied. At one point that night Theon had obviously figured you had fallen asleep, but you were still awake enough to feel the kiss he placed to your cheek, laying still as he settled back down until his soft snores filled the tent.

******

“We should visit the crypt tomorrow,” Theon said breaking the silence, “I want to see him again,”

“Okay,” you said, kissing his lips gently. He had visited Robbs statue many times since it had been placed in the crypts. Neither Robb nor Neds’ bodies had made it to the crypt, but Sansa had still ordered for their statues to be placed there. The last lord of Winterfell and its first king in this new dynasty. A statue of Catelyn and Rickon at either side. “We’ll go at first light but for now we must rest,”

“Okay,” Theon whispered as he placed his head on your chest. You had almost dozed off when he spoke again, “(Y/N)?” he asked, and you yawned a what. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” you murmured back as your eyelids grew heavy, “Sleep my love. Dream of sweet memories,”

General Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @fan-goddess @valeskafics

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hematomes · 1 year

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Oh it's fine ,I was just really curious about what's up with them ,you don't have to explain if you don't want to :D

I DO WANT TO IM JUST GONNA NEED TO ORGANIZE MY THOUGHTS and struggle with the sources bc i just grabbed bits of lore from other shippers 😭 most of their lore, if im not mistaken, comes from the passerby of wandering cloud relic set. keep in mind im also only referring to the english translation so it could be slightly different in the source material

but basically they were very closely involved with each other in the past. dan heng made matching bracers for both him and blade, as stated in the hand relic:

"A slender yet strong hand once wore the other bracer. That owner, whose sharp spear glinted with a cold light and flourished like shooting stars, once sparred with the unnamed. That owner also once shared company and drinks with the unnamed, the two of them simply gazing at the moon with no words exchanged. However, in the end, it was also this person who stubbornly adhered to their plans with the unnamed, turned the beloved into a monstrosity, and pushed all into an abyss of eternal hatred and remorse."

the owner is dan heng, while the unnamed/beloved is theorized to be blade. im insisting on the theorized part because it could be a third-party; some people mentioned jingliu, who was jing yuan's mentor, but it doesn't exactly correlates as she isn't mentioned anywhere else in the set + i think there's a lightcone mentioning that she went mad after losing her sister? don't take my word for it tho. another interesting thing is that these bracers allowed them to communicate telepathically <3

now the "turned the beloved into a monstrosity" is also important, because it's theorized that dan heng turned blade immortal, which is why he's banned from the entire planet. this comes from blade's intent for revenge/"three must pay the price" cutscene, + the head piece lore of the relic set:

"Epiphany struck him like lightning. The curse of immortality still raged on, and the grudge of past misgivings never died out. HE was now the newborn flower on this once-dead branch."

now there's a moment where blade just wanders aimlessly before he's found by the stellaron hunters, and he's still pretty much out of it and closer to a wild beast than an actual person. however, the body piece says this (as he is with the stellaron hunters):

"In hazy memories of the olden days, he finally made up his mind to gift his bosom friend with his hand-made jade flask, only to realize with a shock that the person he longed for was no longer there."

"bosom friend" is theorized to be dan heng, and blade's intent to give him a hand-made gift to be a response to the aforementioned bracers. it's also interesting to note that "bosom friend" is kind of an outdated term for lovers, or at least someone you have deep feelings for

that's all i can say without diving into leaked information (including story spoilers) but. the way i see it, they're former lovers - and dan heng turned blade immortal against his will, perhaps as a desperate attempt to keep him forever by his side.

a deeper look into the theory/timeline: the vidyadhara race is known to "reincarnate" (like bailu says when we meet her), which is why they're truly immortal in a sense, because their cells rejuvenate completely (as opposed to the foxians for ex) and they actually die. so dan heng could have sealed away his actual dragon self in a way. as it stands, he doesn't remember anything - he just saw blade in a nightmare once, and considering what blade says it's understandable that dan heng is pissing himself.

however i don't believe that blade wants to kill him for good, or that dan heng is actually traumatized/suffering from ptsd. it looks more like guilt, that you can't even explain because you're unable to remember what you did. it's a matter of interpretation for now. i also believe that dan heng will in fact have to "die" to have his dragon unsealed, so.

anyway i really love them. blade isn't out there out of pure hatred but he feels hurt and betrayed (by someone so close to him, too!!!), because he's forced to live and probably so, so tired. dan heng isn't just scared and helpless, but also devoured by a guilt he can't exactly explain. they have such a complicated relationship, and chalking it up as abuser x abused is not only reductive but blatantly wrong. i strongly believe that, once unsealed, dan heng could literally fold blade in half with one hand <3

#— answered #— nonnie #im extremely excited for more info on them starts shaking and quaking #hsr #renheng #long post sorry

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poppitron360 · 5 days

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what frank headcanons do you have?

LOTS and they’re very Leo-heavy (Like everything I post). I make it no secret that I will defend Platonic Valzhang with my life- their friendship is everything to me.

1. Frank is more socially competent than he seems, he’s very aware of how others are feeling, and knows exactly what to say and do to comfort them. Specifically, he knows a lot about PTSD from seeing his mom and her military friends coming back from war, and so he knows what to do when one of his friends have flashbacks/nightmares. For such a big guy, he’s surprisingly gentle.

2. He does not let his lactose intolerance stop him. He will take that as a fucking CHALLENGE. At easter, he will wolf down chocolate like there’s no tomorrow (and then tomorrow comes, and he regrets everything).

3. Only swears in times of absolute crisis, so when he does it’s a BIG DEAL. One of the Legion hears Praetor Zhang say “fuck” and suddenly SHIT JUST GOT REAL.

4. THE BEST HUGGER EVER.

5. Refers to Leo as a “smol bean” on multiple occasions.

6. Other nicknames include “Jason’s twink” “twiglet” “that annoying little gnat” and “tiny stick boy” (all lovingly)

7. GIVES PIGGYBACKS (Sometimes as an actual pig)

8. One time, Leo convinced him to infiltrate a kid’s birthday party as the magician’s rabbit, steal all the cake, and leave.

9. Brilliant cook- excellent baker. Makes a lot of cakes and cookies (Percy helps).

10. After much encouragement from Leo, he turns into a dragon and finally gets the courage to breathe fire (he was too scared before).

11. Loves to read- MASSIVE BOOKWORM- Reads Hazel bedtime stories. Soon Leo finds out, and insists on snuggling in next to them and Frank reads them to sleep.

12. Similar to the piggybacks- lets people ride on his shoulders. Mostly Leo, so he can reach high places (short people problems, amiright?)

13. Okay if you ask me my headcannons, you know that no. 13 is always “THEY’RE A SWIFTIE”- Frank’s not a big a fan as Leo (who knows her favourite colour star sign and shoe size) but has a couple of her albums. He gets properly into her after Leo forces it onto Hazel bc she said she wanted to listen to more modern music. The three of them make friendship bracelets together. Hazel is a debut girlie.

14. Leo paints Frank’s nails for fun.

15. Frank is the go-to guy for the dyslexics. Percy, Annabeth, and Leo all come to him with things asking “what does that say?”. He doesn’t mind except when Leo wakes him up at 3am (has that kid has ever heard of a sleep schedule?)- especially to ask him to read something Leo himself wrote.

16. Similarly, he helps Leo copy up all his notes into a format that’s actually legible- after Calypso’s island Leo makes sure the crew is able to carry on without him if he ever went missing again (he also wants to keep a record of his work just like the Archimedes scrolls he found).

17. Lets Leo rant about machines. Sometimes he just smiles and nods (because he doesn’t understand a single word) but Leo appreciates Frank not telling him to shut up about it.

18. Pretty much an old man when it comes to tech. What Is A Meme.

19. Just pretty much an old man full stop, and I am here for it.

The thing is, I always have a million hcs and as soon as someone asks for them I forget them all. I’ll probably remember a lot more as soon as I post this, but here is what I got for now. I’ve also posted a shit-tonne of Valzhang hcs in (one of) my massive Valzhang rant post(s), so you can find that here. Some of my favs here are recycled from that.

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halsaph · 7 months

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alright whats this artdrone killbot thing

hi. You will regret asking this

The Murderbot Diaries is a series of books about a human-bot construct that was designed to essentially exist as an enslaved security guard / piece of sentient spyware. It's like if Alexa had half a human brain and a gun. We're introduced to Murderbot (the murder alexa) roughly 3 years after it's hacked the piece of hardware in it's brain that forces it to obey commands. In those 3 years it hasn't changed much about it's life except now while working as a subhuman slave it watches tv when no one is paying attention. As a series TMBD largely is about themes of personhood and discovering yourself when you have largely spent your life being denied the right to a sense of self. They also don't shy away from addressing the trauma that Murderbot has experienced from having it's autonomy stripped of it for most of it's life, with the second novella and most recent novel most heavily featuring that as an element. (Although that is a core aspect of Murderbot's character that informs its decisions throughout the entire series).

Murderbot as a character is bitingly sarcastic and witty, deeply paranoid and ultimately filled with the constant low level anxiety it doesn't know what it's doing (not necessarily moment by moment but overall, with it's freedom, with it's life). It's an excellent unreliable narrator because it only tells you exactly what it thinks is important in a scenario, relationships between other characters, physical features of itself and the people around it, it's own emotions and reactions often being completely brushed over with only occasional clues, and often outright misinterpreting people's actions, most often it's own. It has this ever present self loathing in the first several books where it constantly explains it's actions away in the least charitable interpretation possible even though we see time and time again that at it's core it deeply wants to help and protect the people around it. And we see over the course of the books as it starts learning how to make choices for itself and interacting with people who treat it with respect and develops a support system as it starts to move away from that mindset (with the exception of the most recent book but to be fair to MB System Collapse is about it being forced to confront it's PTSD and it's backsliding alot from recently being thrown back into a situation from its worst nightmares). I said before its a human-bot construct to explain that it isn't purely an inorganic being but Murderbot is a deeply inhuman character and openly has no desire to be human, and it's perspective as something that is made to be a security system and enmesh into both digital and hardwired surveillance is fascinating to read. As you know I deeply deeply love robots, they're my favorite kind of 'inhuman but still a Person' kind of character and Murderbot perfectly strikes the balance between a starkly in human way of thinking and deeply relatable emotions that draws me to robots as a whole, especially as an autistic person (and Murderbot was intentionally written with autistic traits but in a subversion of the typical ableist depiction of autistic robots so that EXTRA rings true lmao)

seeing as you mentioned it I will also explain ART as a character, ART is one of the reoccurring characters in the series (the first 3 novellas all have completely different casts outside of Murderbot itself as it hops from place to place trying to decide what it wants and who it is before in the fourth novella and beyond bringing back in previous characters and having them start to overlap throughout the rest of the series). It was introduced in the second book and is arguably the character that has the greatest impact on Murderbot as a person although I say arguably bc I would personally still say that's Mensah. Unarguably tho it is one of the most important people in Murderbot's life and has been described multiple times now by the author as the love of its life (although not necessarily in a romantic sense as Murderbot is both within text and confirmed via word of god acearo). ART (Asshole Research Transport) also known as the Perihelion (although not until the 5th book/first novel bc Murderbot doesn't bother to tell tell the readers its name until then, instead deciding its a dick so its gonna exclusively call it by an insult) is a spaceship's pilot AI, made to be sentient instead of the usual smart GPS as an experiment by the university is was made by. It was raised like a child by a pair of scientists who are now part of its crew (along with its sibling Iris) and now is a teaching vessel for students learning about deep space and also anticorporate espionage worker (don't worry about it). It's a giant pushy asshole unless you're a child (the only character we've ever seen it meet on screen it didn't in some way immediately threaten was a 16 yo). It can't watch tv without having to pause at the suspenseful bits to calm down. We're introduced to it by it threatening to melt Murderbot's mind and then pouting when it's scared shitless. It then a month later asks to do surgery on it. It fully intends to blow up a planet to get Murderbot back from a group of colonists that captured it until someone talks it out of it because that isn't effective hostage negotiation.

#the murderbot diaries #there are five novellas and two novels btw I couldn't think how to include that naturally in the block of text

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codename-adler · 6 months

Text

first snowstorm of the winter here in Montréal, Canada so…

Foxes vs. the great white shitstorm

Kevin: PTSD from the-skiing-accident-that-never-was bc that’s how far his trauma goes BUT will brave the snow if accompanied bc Exy is an interior sport thank u mom for that one. chances are he also probably bunkered down at the Foxhole court beforehand so he wouldn’t have to witness a single snowflake nor be separated from his one true love. bunker supplies include a shit ton of OJ bc the man is fighting away the flus and the colds like it’s The Plague Part II: 1347.

Matt: has to be stopped by Dan, once again, from buying a snow plow to fix in front of his truck. like every place where winter = snow, the PSU campus is severely unprepared for the onslaught, it’s like they’ve never seen this shit before and if I could just help out the community that way it would be a win-win for everybody Dan don’t you get it? it’s still a no, so Matt proceeds with unleashing his energy outside, alone, grumbling and building snowmen (and snowphalluses once Nicky joins in)

Nicky: DECKS THE HALLS EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE, FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA. it’s tradition for him to wait until the first snowfall before decorating for Christmas, as a compromise (if it truly were up to him, 1st of November would be Christmas Tree Day, but he made a deal with the twins who, despite despising their birthday, would absolutely not have Jingle Bells and and holly on November 4th). the thing with Nicky is, he exhausts himself very, very fast and loses focus/productivity in the blink of an eye, so all you see is a path of garlands and pine needles leading to a zoned out Nicky munching on frootloops in a beanbag. the Foxes will have to finish what he started.

Allison: during daytime? fab as ever, hyped to get out her winter outfits and order another 3k of winter gear, boots, scarves, gloves etc. for herself. then she shops some more for the Foxes, some genuine bougie shit, some wtf shit to make fun of this season's chosen victims (see: Kevin always, a little bit Neil to chase away the nightmare of the past year, and this year's winners: Dan and Aaron). but once nighttime hits? it's war time. it's UGLY time. thermo one-piece suit, the old 3XL PSU Foxes men's sweatshirt Seth bought himself in his first year, tight braid shoved under a tight camo sports balaclava, spy goggles slapped on her naked-bar-fake-lashes face, heavy duty boots, and snowballs. yes, snowballs. starting this year, she's initiating the Yearly Foxes Snowball War. she's got her Santa bag ready and full of compact snowballs as she goes down the hall, breaking and entering every Fox dorm and obliterating them unprovoked. queen behavior. conquering among the squeals of Matt Aaron Kevin the vanquished!

Renee: hater mode activated. it's only for the first snow, it's only for one day, but it's brutal. her smile is tight, her socks are fucking wet by noon and she's had it. the little gremlin dives under a pile yay-high of blankets, destroying one or two of her advent calendars and eating 25-50 pieces of chocolate to sate her ire. she's the only one safe from Allison's assault, she's only asked if she'd like to join in the snowball fight instead, which is a hard no from Renee. next year, though, Allison's provided her with the same tech-gear and she's ready to unleash her anger on her unsuspecting teammates. but only after the chocolates.

Dan: nope. nope nope nope. she's so cold. so cold. she's craving warmth wherever she can, making the Foxes jump when she shoves her iced hands or feet into them. she's bundled up in layers upon layers of clothes. she's drinking coffee and tea by the gallon. she's scrambling for every lip balm she can get her hands on. she's making soup, and soup, and more soup. spicy ramen, three beans, lipton, chicken cream, veggie mix. she's got 2 thermos at all times, one hot drink, one hot soup. soup mama.

Aaron: first victim of cold season. if there's a snowflake, Aaron's got snot. no amount of ginger shots, garlic nostrils, citrus slices or soup can prevent the inevitable. man down by sunset, congested af, broody and pitiful. everybody makes fun of him, most of all Neil. look at the hot shot doctor bested by a lil cough-cough. the one year he didn't get sick so early, he had to get the new flu shot bc he's premed. needless to say, man down again.

Neil: ultimate x-games galore, here he comes! for the first time in his life, he's allowed to indulge, and try out every winter sport under the sun. Exy's still his wife, but man is snowboard up there with snowshoes-running and ice-skating and sledding. he's monstrously good at hockey, to Kevin's great disappointment. he thinks he'd have quite liked being a hockey player hadn't it been for Exy. and the mafia. anyways, he's unstoppable, he's exhausting, he's everything. he's Barbie.

Andrew: tiny emo beef man is fucking-A-ready. winter tires ON, tire chains ON, windshield cover ON, broom and shovels ACQUIRED, hot chocolate cupboard FULL, cleated boots SHARPENED, hotshots warmers STACKED. and then he just- doesn't move. not one iota. absolute pillow princess without any fucking involved. that man is not getting out there, despite the Foxes' wailings of needing a ride, needing groceries, needing a hand. he is ready, doesn't mean he's involved. c'mon, the dude's got multiple plans for a zombie apocalypse, you think a little snow's gonna stop him? yes, actually.

and that's all folks... for now. fuck /yeah/ snow!

#*plucking a flowers petals* i love snow i hate snow i love snow i hate snow #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds

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