#he wasn’t meant to die he wasn’t meant to become this!!!! there’s a story where he’s alive and whole and home!!!!!! FUCK.

[momolady]

Sleeping Beauty: Author's April #4

(This was intended to be the sequel to my Huntress in the Castle story. It would have been about them rescuing Nadine and solving the curse on the castle once and for all.)

One:

My brothers had thought life in the royal palace would be boring. They were used to doing what they wished, going wherever they pleased. In the palace they had certain restrictions, but outside they were given free run. Even among the knights, which is where they spent most of their time. They trained with the knights, challenging them to playful bouts.

Beyond the palace walls they mingled among the common people easily, after all that was who we were. They went to the sea, fishing and running about the docks. They traded amongst the shops and cobblers. And even within the palace their individual interests were met.

D’Arcy had become the royal physicians assistant, and was often found with the Queen’s apothecary. Craig took to the horse houses and the animals of the palace. The queen kept quite the menagerie in the garden. Finn was often either at sea or with the knights. Or causing trouble. But that was normal Finn. Peadar was the same as well, often keeping to himself, watching the others with a kindly eye. He would place himself in the gardens or in the kitchen where he could watch the comings and goings with ease. And the kitchen did feel more like home.

The only one who couldn’t seem to find his place was Niall. I tried to keep him company as much as I could, but he knew my place now was beside Vered, at the forefront of the royal family. And sure, he found pastimes to occupy him, but unlike the others, his nook in the new life hadn’t been chipped out yet.

“I’m sure once the castle in the forest is done, it’ll be easier.” Vered explained to him one evening. I was glad the two had gotten to know one another. And they were both similar in the regards that they both weren’t fitting in well.

“I do miss the village.” Niall sighed.

Vered smiled. “Why don’t we plan a hunting trip. Just us men.”

Niall laughed. “And leave Fianna alone? She would probably wreck something.”

Vered nodded. “That might be true. But she knows more than anyone that you need it.”

Niall sighed, shaking his head. “This is all I ever wanted for my family. Never wanting for anything. Never having to risk our necks for our next meal. But, I still feel so uncomfortable. Like I’m missing something.”

Vered nodded. “You haven’t found your fate yet.”

“What? Like my Gran’s stories?” Niall scoffed.

Vered laughed at him. “They worked out for your sister. Fantastically so.” He leaned against the railing of the veranda. “Didn’t Granny tell you boys any stories?”

“Some.” Niall answered with a shrug. “But we were boys, we didn’t listen. Fianna was the only one who paid her any mind, let alone believe her.”

Vered smirked. “Well, I bet you’ll listen now.”

“My Gran told me I’d slay a dragon.” Niall scoffed. “There are not such things. No such creatures.”

Vered slapped his palms to his chest. “And I was a horrible beast.”

Niall hesitated, doubting himself for just a moment.

Vered laughed then. “So what is to say you aren’t going to slay a dragon? You saw with your own eyes what is inside me. You saw your sister die and yet she lives.” His eyes narrowed on Niall. “I dare you to listen to Granny now. We’ll see what fate has for you, dragons and all.”

Niall felt shaken to his core. If she had been right about me all these years, imagine what else she was correct about. If Niall had remembered correctly and he was to slay a dragon…well good lord! That meant he was to slay a dragon.

It took Niall some time to actually go see Granny. He went to several others before actually going to see her. It wasn’t like Niall to get the straight answer right away. First, he came to see me and Peadar, since we were both in the library together.

“When Granny told you stories about Vered-”

I shook my head. “She never told me about Vered. She never told me about anything, except that there was an evil in the forest meant for me.”

Niall cocked a brow at me.

“It isn’t her place to reveal the future.” I said. “I wasn’t supposed to know what was going to happen to me.”

“You worried about what you didn’t listen to?” Peadar asked.

Niall scoffed. “And you actually listened to her stories?”

“I listened because she’s Granny. Believe it?” Peadar shrugged. “Up until I saw Vered I didn’t believe what she told me. Now, I’m starting to.”

Niall flaps his arms out, exasperated. “Oy, yeah? And what did she tell you?” He asked huffishly.

Peadar and I exchanged looks, he had been telling me some of the tales Granny had told him since we had gotten to the royal palace. We both smiled, laughing to ourselves.

“Granny told me to pay very close attention to women’s shoes.”

Niall’s mouth hung open. “And you are just going to believe her?”

I laughed, covering my mouth to keep from laughing to loud.

Peadar put his hand on the top of my head. “She told Fianna there was an evil meant for her. If all I have to do is study women’s fashion then so be it.” He chuckled.

“Do you even remember what Granny told you?” I asked.

Niall looked away, arms crossed tightly against his chest, bottom lip protruding farther out than usual.

“Oh come on!” Peadar scoffed.

Niall sighed, letting his arms slip back to his sides. “She told me…she told me I’d slay a dragon.”

Peader nudged me. “Well…excuse me and my shoes then.”

I furrowed my brow. “You should be talking to Granny, Niall.”

Niall sighed, rubbing his chin and looking out the window. “Yeah.” He sighed, turning on his heel and leaving us.

Peadar looked at me. “He’s avoiding it.” He explained. “I don’t think he wants to admit that he was wrong.”

I pursed my lips. “He won’t be able to avoid it for long.”

Niall found the twins and D’Arcy in the kitchen, eating fruit the serving girls sliced for them with giddy joy.

“I don’t remember what Gran told me.” Finn shrugged, biting into an apple.

D’Arcy rubbed his chin in thought. “I remember her saying something like…I will be surrounded by beautiful women.”

Finn and Craig busted out laughing.

“You can’t be serious?” Niall scoffed. “She told Peadar to keep an eye on women’s shoes!”

Craig cleared his throat. “Well, Gran always tells me to stay away from wolves. But I just thought that was common knowledge.”

Finn coughed and slapped his hands together. “I remember now! I remember!” He coughed again, almost choking on apple in his excitement. “Gran told me to listen to cats!”

Niall threw up his arms in frustration. “Shoes? Women? Wolves and cats? Is this woman really being serious?”

The three exchanged looks. “She was right about Fianna.” D’Arcy said. “Sure, her tales sound exaggerated, but I believe she’s right.”

“What’d Gran tell you?” Finn asked.

Niall sighed. “That I would have to slay a dragon.”

“Ooh!” Finn giggled. “Wanna trade for my cat?”

“Just go talk to Gran.” Craig sighed. “Get the straight answer from the source. Don’t keep trying to avoid it. Might turn out the dragon is a metaphor for something.”

“And my women are a metaphor for what then?” D’Arcy laughed.

“Madness?” Finn chuckled, winking at a serving girl as she walked by.

“Just go talk to Gran,” D’Arcy scoffed. “What? You afraid that she’s right? Don’t wanna hear what’s good for ya?”

Niall picked up an orange wedge. “How is hearing that I may get eaten by a dragon good for me?” He laughed, placing the orange wedge between his lips.

“It’s belly could be full of gold.” Finn retorted. “I’m sure if the thing is big enough, and it swallows ya whole-”

“Oh really, Finn.” Craig scoffed.

Niall sighed, rolling his eyes. “Guess there is no avoiding it.” He shrugged then and pursed his lips. “Gotta go talk to Gran.”

Granny was all but eager to finally talk to Niall. Most of the boys had come to her, just to double check if the stories she had been feeding them were true.

“I’m glad you finally came to me, Niall.” She said, tucking into the chair before him. “I was beginning to get afraid you would leave without being prepared.”

“Leave?” Niall asked.

Granny nodded. “Oh yes, Fianna and Vered are going to ask you to accompany them to view on the progress of the palace soon.”

Niall shook his head. “I haven’t heard of this.”

Granny’s hand whipped out, slapping his hand. “Of course not! They don’t even know yet. But a letter will arrive soon, and then you’ll go.”

“Go to what?” Niall gasped. “You always told Fianna she had an evil meant for her.” He brought his palms to his chest. “What is meant for me? You told me when I was young I would slay a dragon!”

Granny nodded knowingly, stroking her long braid. “Ah yes. I was excited with you. You being the eldest and having such an amazing journey ahead of you. I let too much slip there.”

Niall laughed. “You’re serious!” He exclaimed. “An actual dragon?”

Granny shook her head, clicking her tongue. “I shouldn’t say anything else on the matter.” She sighed. “But, since you know that bit already,” she reached out, gently holding Niall’s hand. “You are so important to this family Niall. You have always had to be the strongest. But sometimes, showing what makes you vulnerable is nothing to frown at. It is often in our darkest times, when we have nothing at all, that we show our true strength.”

Niall thought about me then. Remembering the night I had fought Vered. It hadn’t been my strength, or my blade that had defeated the monster. No. Niall could remember standing there seeing my bow before the beast, he thought he would never see me again, his last vision of me being that of my bloody death. Instead, he saw something remarkable, he saw me save us all.

Granny leaned closer to Niall, holding his face between her palms. “No matter how you fight it, you will need someone to take care of you sometimes.”

Niall nodded slowly. “But…what does that have to do with-” He stopped himself and laughed. “Thank you Granny.”

She smiled. “Good boy.

Niall leaned back in his chair, looking over into the fireplace. He and Granny sat in a peaceful quiet for a moment. Granny drank her tea and finished darning one of Finn’s socks. It was when she pulled out my veil that Niall began to feel eager about his fate.

“How come Peadar only has to worry about shoes?” Niall asked, a broad smile on his face.

Granny smiled up at him. “Oh believe me, you’re going to think dragons look pretty good when you see what your brothers have to deal with.” She laughed.

Niall reached out, holding onto the end of the sheer silk of my veil. Granny was working hard, making her fingers ache, to get the beading just right. The Queen had given her special beads made of this crystal with a mother of pearl like shimmer to them.

“When I was a young girl, I never would of dreamed of this.” Granny sighed. “I had never even seen a castle in my lifetime. And here I am, living in one.”

“You never foresaw this?” Niall asked.

Granny shook her head. “I don’t like poking around into my own future.” She plucked a bead from the tin. “Oh no. Too many problems come with that.” She clicked her tongue. “I did use it to make some money, back when I was young and when your grandfather passed.”

Niall knew Granny had always wanted to go back to being a fortune teller when his mother and father both died. But Niall wanted Granny to be comfortable, he wanted to earn the family’s bread. Granny had paid her way many a time, she deserved a respite.

“I haven’t gone very far in my life,” Granny continued. “But I have seen things that would make your eyes pop clear out of your head!” She said with a proud bob of her head.

“If looking into the future is so bad, Gran, how come you did it for us?” Niall asked, leaning towards her.

Granny smiled gently, knowingly. “Because you want to protect those you love. I wanted to make sure you brats turned out happy, safe. I’d do anything for you.”

Niall reached out, holding Granny’s hand for a moment, then released her to continue her beading work.

That night, Niall woke up from a sound sleep. The world was pitch black, save for the sliver of light coming through his curtains. For the split second his eyes were open, he saw something move, something faint. He closed his eyes again and then opened them wide in a flash, realizing what he had seen was a person.

He sat up with a jolt in bed, there was something pulling open the crutains. A pale, white hand stretching into the moonlight and smoothing their hand across the cold glass. Niall was stunned, he was frozen in place. What was this specter he was seeing.

The figure turned, face illuminated my the moonlight. She watched Niall with a curiosity, a small sigh escaped her and she sat on the windowsill, looking out over the castle.

“Excuse me.” Niall said.

The girl jumped, turning and looking at him with wide eyed fright. “Puh-pardon?” She gasped, her long auburn hair cascading off her shoulder.

“What are you doing in my room?” Niall scoffed.

The girl looked from side to side, wide blue windows of disbelief. She looked back at Niall, brow pursed. “You can see me?”

“As plan as day!” Niall snapped as he rose from bed.

“That…that can’t be.” She scoffed, standing herself. “Wait, aren’t you Fianna’s brother?”

“Do not change the subject.” Niall scoffed. “Who are you and what are doing in-” The woman’s hand went through Niall like a cold breeze. There was no substance to her, just shadow.

The woman watched, Niall slack jawed and stumbling back to his bed.

“You held me once.” The woman said. “You were the first man to ever hold me besides my father or brother.”

All Niall could do was stare up at her. A ghost!

“I’m Nadine.” The woman answered, folding her hands against her skirt.

“But…but they said you died.” Niall whispered.

Nadine shrugged. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” She shook her head. “I can’t figure it out. I don’t even know why I’m still here. You’re the first one who has even been aware of me.” She sat down on the windowsill again pulling her knees up to her chest.

Niall shook his head. “How long have you been here?”

Nadine shook her head. “I could not say. A day. A year. Forever? I have completely lost my sense of time or reasoning. One moment, I was dying. The next I am…wandering.” She turned her head, looking out.

Niall stood up, walking to the window and looking over Nadine. Her long, dark auburn hair, splayed out in a million soft waves down her back. Her skin, white and fragile as porcelain. But she had the strong, regal features that Vered did. There was no use arguing that they were related. They even had the same haunting, blue eyes.

Nadine looked up at him. “Or perhaps you are dreaming.” She retorted. “Perhaps this is all just a trick of your mind. Maybe your mind recreated me to help ease your ill-ease in the palace.”

Niall shook his head, breathless. “That must be it.”

Nadine laughed. “Oh wouldn’t that be a wonderful solution for us all.” She looked away from the window, folding her fingers under her sharp chin. “I haven’t talked to anyone besides my brother in so long.” She chuckled softly. “I barely talked to Fianna I admit. I was terrified of her.”

Niall chuckled at this. All his life, all he could remember doing was talking to me. From the moment I was born I was his.

“She talked about you a lot.” Nadine replied. “I didn’t realize one could love their family so much.”

“But you stayed with Vered all that time.”

Nadine shook her head slowly, almost not moving. “I had to. What I would of given to run away, to leave him behind and…and all alone.” Tears began to dribble down Nadine’s cheeks. “And then…then he changed, and that scared me more.”

Niall sat back in the window, opposite Nadine. “Siblings tend to do that. Like…I can remember when Finn was little. He was scared of his own shadow.” He laughed. “I see him now and wonder where that frightened little creature went.”

Nadine nodded softly. “And what about Fianna?”

Niall sighed, thinking about me as a little girl again. “She used to cling to me. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight, and when I did she just hollered.”

Nadine cracked a smile through her tears.

“And then one day…” Niall became distant for a moment. “One day I realized she didn’t need me. And that was when I began clinging to her.”

“And now?” Nadine’s voice a barely audible whisper.

Niall stared beyond sight, he looked inside, all around himself. “And now…it’s my turn to face my fate like she did. I can’t cling to my family anymore.”

Nadine was wiping at her face then and Niall held his hand out to her, presenting her with a handkerchief. “Don’t cry, please.”

Nadine took it gingerly from his fingers. “It has been a while since a man has offered his hand to me.” She murmured, looking at the handkerchief as if it were made of gold and jewels. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Niall.”

He bolted upright in bed, nearly half scaring me to death.

He looked at me in disbelief. The world around him was bright with morning light now, not midnight blue. “Fianna?”

I nod. “I came to get you, you slept clear through breakfast.”

“I did?” He gasped breathlessly.

“Yes.” I furrowed my brow at him, studying him closely. “Are you alright?”

He shakes his head. “I had the strangest of dreams.” His eyes wander back to the window where Nadine had been sitting. He could see her perfectly. How could that have been a dream?

“What was the dream?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” He lied. “There was a girl, and she was alone…I think she wanted a friend.”

I tilted my head onto my shoulder, watching Niall’s somewhat lost expression. I brushed the hair away from his forehead. “Are you sure you slept?” I slipped the pad of my finger across the dark circles under his eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.” My hand falls back to my side. “Why don’t I bring you a small bite to eat and then you just try to get some rest?”

He shakes his head at me and begins to stand. “I promised to take the twins out to the sea today. They wanted to go fishing again.”

“They go fishing at least four times a week these days!” I easily shove Niall back into bed. Almost too easily. It scared me for a moment.

Niall chuckled. “You’ve gotten stronger.”

“I don’t like that, Niall. Stay in bed.” I commanded. “I’ll get D’Arcy or Vered to take the twins fishing. I’ll go myself if I have to. But I really do think you should stay in bed.”

Niall stood again. “I just need to get something to eat is all. Go on. I’ll be down in a few minuets.”

I didn’t like it, but I silently conceded and left his room. I went and found Vered, hoping his company could somehow ease my mind. I found him in the library, having taken his lunch and scurried off there were he felt more comfortable. He sat before the fire, a roll in one hand and a book in the other.

I slipped my arm around his waist and curled into him. He was reading another book filled with the language I couldn’t read.

“Something is wrong.” He said to me, setting down the book.

I shrug. “I’m sure it isn’t anything. It’s Niall.”

Vered lifts my hand and kisses the cup of my palm. He stalls for a moment and I hear him sniff.

“What?” I scoff at him.

He looks down at me confused and bewildered. “You smell like my sister.”

“Nadine?”

Vered smells my palm again. “It’s faint, but I can tell it is there. I could not mistake that scent.”

I turn and hold my palm to my nose. Of course, only Vered and his beastly senses could detect something so faint. “That can’t be possible. She vanished in the garden.”

Vered’s eyes were distant, hazy. “Yes but…where could that scent have come from?”

“I only touched Niall.” I say. “He held Nadine in the castle when we came to look for you. But that was ages ago.”

Vered shook his head. “I have not smelled it on him since either. It’s baffling me.”

Two:

She was there again, as if waiting on him to return from wherever he had gone. They didn’t speak at first, just acknowledged each other’s presence. The library was such a great, grand place, with so much to occupy yourself with. And Nadine seemed absorbed in a massive, old tome. She had it sat on the floor before her, the pages and her skin aglow in the light of the fireplace.

Niall sat up on the sofa, feeling pretty assured he had fallen asleep there while talking to me and Vered.

“Do you like poetry?” Nadine asked suddenly. She looked up at him and curled her legs under herself.

Niall shook his head slowly, still comprehending these strange encounters. “My mother used to read it to me when I was a child.” He looked down, seeing the ornate pages of the book spread open before Nadine. “But I’m afraid I haven’t encountered anymore since.”

“Your mother.” Nadine murmured softly. “Fianna didn’t speak much of her.”

I shook my head. “She died when Fianna was just a baby.” I put my forearms against my knees, leaning over. “All Fianna has known is Granny and us.”

“And how did that happen?” Nadine asked.

Niall chuckled. “And how did you happen?”

Nadine smiled softly, unsurely. “An accident.”

My brother nodded, fiddling his thumbs. “My father was an accident.” He said with a gentle nod. “He got gored by a wild boar.”

Nadine averted her eyes. “Oh…”

“I think that’s why D’Arcy took such an interest in medicine…because the doctor of our village couldn’t really do anything.” Niall’s dark eyes took the chance to scan over Nadine, her pale skin, fragile looking hands. The sharp outline of her face was what stuck out most to him. Her thin, pointed nose. Her small but shapely mouth. She reminded him of brambles and thorns. Thin and delicate, but he knew if he moved at her without caution, he would bleed.

“Fianna hadn’t even been born yet.” Niall then chuckled. “Actually, Fianna hadn’t even begun to show in mother yet. We only had Granny’s word to go on we had a sister coming.”

Nadine looked back up at Niall. “How old were you then?”

“Old enough, but still not old enough to take care of a family of six, soon to be seven.” Niall answered lowly. “We had to rely on Granny back then.”

“Her fortunes.” Nadine beamed.

Niall nodded. “Yes, her fortune telling.” He studied Nadine’s smile, so faint and sweet, and even baring the same color as the berries that grew just at the edge of the forest he loved so much. “Did Fianna talk that much about us?”

“Vered liked it when she did.” Nadine answered with a slight nod. “He liked the smile it brought to her face.”

Niall nodded slightly, leaning towards her. “You said Fianna scared you.”

Nadine sighed, a shy smile appearing on her face. “I just knew she was meant for Vered,” she murmured. “What else could of brought her to the castle? From the moment she forced herself inside, I knew. She was, is, so strong.”

“But…” Niall tried to pick his words carefully, “why afraid?”

Nadine’s smile vanished and she stared blankly into the fireplace. She smoothed her palm out, pressing into the spine of the book that was open in her lap. “I realized…that no one would come for me.” She avoided his suddenly sympathetic stare and shook her head. “That was my curse.”

“Then what am I?”

She shook her head again. “Who knows?” She laughed. “I still can’t figure out what I am.”

Niall reached out tentatively, placing his hand over hers. Nadine jerked, then shivered. She looked down at his hand, up his arm, and then into Niall’s eyes. “You scare me, too.”

Niall laughed softly. “Why?”

Nadine tried to avoid his gaze, but she couldn’t force herself to look away from him. She trembled under his hand. “Because I won’t be able to stay with you.” Her voice the flicker of a dying flame. “I can’t keep you.”

Niall’s eyes widened. “Nadine?”

She stood suddenly, the book slipped from her lap and bursting into dust. “I’m sorry. I can’t…” She then took off running, becoming a wind. A wind that blew out the fire, leaving Niall in shadows.

“Nadine!” Niall sat up shouting.

“Who?”

Niall turned, seeing D’Arcy sitting by himself at a table, books open before him. He turned, looking at the fireplace roaring, at the floor where the book had turned to dust, it was clean.

“Have a bad dream?” D’Arcy asked, shutting the book before him.

Niall ran his fingers through his hair. “No…” He stood up. “I need to see Vered.” He said as he began walking out of the library.

“He and Fianna are in the garden!” D’Arcy called after him.

Before Niall had even reached the garden Vered began to twitch. He turned his nose up to the wind and inhaled deeply.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked ahead, eyes wide, but brows cocked suspiciously. “I smell her again.”

My mouth hung open slightly. “You mean, Nadine?”

He turned abruptly, twisting around me and bracing himself towards the door as Niall came running out.

“Niall?” Vered and I echo each other.

#fairy tale retelling #fantasy writing #fairy tale #sleeping beauty retelling #fantasy romance #fairy tale romance #my writing #momolady monsters

[battlekidx2]

I'm making this post purely to shout out some incredibly talented fanfic writers from the Hazbin Hotel fandom and my favorite works of theirs.

Did anyone ask me for this? No. Will I post it anyway? Absolutely. The writers in this fandom are too good.

The first fanfic writer I want to shout out is @prince-liest (ao3 link)

I absolutely love their get cared for idiot (Alastor) series (not the official name but they called it that in one of their asks jokingly so it's now the default in my head).

Knock, Knock! It's Your Worst Fucking Nightmare! (this fic gets it!!!! This is what I meant when I said Alastor is growing a heart and part of him is raging against it. He still has ulterior motives and a massive amount of pride and part of him feels like that growing fondness is getting in the way, but he can't stop it. I need to stop before this becomes a long ramble. I've written a couple thousand words on this idea, but this fic is just a better use of your time than any meta I could ever write and way more entertaining :D )

Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy

The Last Bus Stop in Hell, Now Boarding (Please look at the tags for content warning. Angel and Alastor body swap story.)

They're amazing at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor where there's a heart in there (really deep) and he's unintentionally growing attached to the hazbin crew, but he doesn't lose his edge. He's still manipulative and an asshole and can easily be the scariest guy in any room. He's in hell for a reason. A+ characterization at all times.

They're so good at writing the complicated dynamics he has with the residents, especially Charlie, and I enjoy how they expand on Alastor's potential dynamic with Angel Dust.

Anything they write from Lucifer's POV is gold too! My favorites are:

Take Two and Leave a Voicemail!

The Care and Keeping of Homo Angelus

I am also 100% here for their Aro!Alastor agenda and I'm enjoying their fic I Love Her, I Love Her Not so far!

The second person I want to shout out is @grayintogreen (ao3 link)

Their series Red Roses and Dead Things consistently gut punches me.

Just like Princeliest, they are also fantastic at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor. A+ characterization for everyone and I love how they write HuskerDust. It's so soft, especially in the aftermath fic for Learn that Even Death May Die called If My Love Is Tomorrow, I've Forgotten Yesterday (that fic hurt in the best way).

The way they explore the aftermath of Learn that Even Death May Die is incredibly impactful. They capture the unique grief that comes from the reality that there are some things you won't get closure for so well that it's painful.

I can't say enough good things about their series. Genuinely go read it.

I found @lediz-watches (ao3 link) before the first season of Hazbin Hotel dropped (I've been a fan of the hellaverse for a few years now and have been enthralled with the Hazbin Hotel pilot since I first watched it in 2020) and I really enjoy their fics.

My favorite is Suffering Kindness. I love the Charlie and Alastor dynamic they explore in this story. I think I'm just a sucker for the Charlie and Alastor dynamic in general, but this fic hits all the right notes for me. (written pre-season 1 but man is it good. 100% recommend)

LeDiz also has a lot of one-shots/collections of one-shots that are very fun.

The Cure for Inexorable Boredom

Dollface (one-shots about Alastor theories. My favorite is the 3rd one. So fascinating!)

Choice Words (one of the few explorations of Alastor and Vaggie's dynamic that I've found in the fandom)

Don't Say It

I have to shout out @ckret2 (ao3 link) and their phenomenal fic You’ve Got a Face for Radio. This is such an amazing aroace!Alastor fic. (Embarrassingly it was this fic that made me realize I was most likely aroace myself. I’d had fleeting moments of suspecting it but it wasn’t until I saw my experiences laid out in a character explicitly written to be aroace that I put the puzzle pieces together. -_- some of these passages were too relatable.) I cannot express how much I love this fic.

I also like their fics Dumpster Baby and Bitter Grapes.

I have one last writer I want to mention because this is getting really long (whoops). The last one is tiredoflofteranditsshit and their Assume He Has a Heart series (because my favorite character and how I interpret them was not obvious enough already with the fics/authors I've recommended. I had to make it more obvious).

These fics are massive (17k and 26k words) and so much fun. Definitely worth the read. Yet another series that follows up season 1 and explores Alastor’s growing connections and how he lies to himself and pushes against it. Love this series and there’s a lot to sink your teeth into :D

#hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel fics #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #angel dust #husk #huskerdust #charlie morningstar #I love all of these fics #these writers are all so talented

[whatsthethinking]

Somebody's Lover - Lo'ak Ver.

Lo'ak x Fem!Taipani Reader

❧ Word count: 3.9k

❧ Warning: Lo’ak being called a demon (not to his face)

❧ Note: Based of this request. This isn’t the same as Neteyam’s because Lo'ak deserves his own story but I did try and keep a similar premise, I think.

After Neteyam had made it official to the clan that he was in a relationship with someone, who would ultimately become his mate. It was like the youth of the clan had been scrambling to figure out what to do next. If they can’t have Neteyam, who can they have? 

Lo’ak.

It was almost overnight that the shift happened. Instead of people trying to win Neteyam’s favour, they were in search of Lo’ak’s and it was safe to say the boy was less than impressed. It was clear to him that he was the second choice. Lo’ak soon became hostile towards the people that would approach him with their false smiles and intentions.

Do they think I’m stupid?

Where Neteyam would decline people’s requests with regret in his voice, Lo’ak was harsh and to the point. But that didn’t deter them.

A good thing to come out of Neteyam’s relationship was that Lo’ak was able to make a friend, Kalä. The two boys had become inseparable. Kalä’s a few years younger than Lo’ak but that didn’t change anything. They treated each other as equals, Kalä was so interested in humans and their technology that he befriended Spider without hesitation. It was nice to see.

Lo’ak and Kalä joked with one another on their short journey; they hadn’t made a plan for the day. Kalä wanted to go swimming but his sister kept reminding the pair that the boy wasn’t the strongest swimmer but he was very insistent to the point where they had to ‘compromise’. They would go swimming but only in shallow water. Lo’ak swore to his brother and his soon-to-be mate along with all the adults surrounding them that he would watch Kalä closely.

“What about Yaro?” Kalä questioned, jumping over a low branch, “My sister said she’s nice… enough.”

“Absolutely not. She used to be so horrible to Kiri.”

“Mmm, what about Moäì? She has nice eyes and she’s good at making stuff.”

“She’s friends with Tahé.”

“But she loves you.” The younger boy teased.

Lo’ak stopped abruptly, the forest had suddenly become eerily quiet. He stepped closer to Kalä, ready to shield the younger boy from potential danger. And that’s when he saw it, a thanator creeping towards them, low to the ground ready to pounce.

Lo’ak could hear Kalä breath hitch in his throat.

“Do not scream.” Lo’ak’s voice firm, “Do not move. On my command, you run.”

“Where?” He questioned, his voice quivering.

“Anywhere.”

Lo’ak didn’t have a plan but he knew Kalä was his priority, the young boy was shaking against his arm.

“Ready?”

As the pair ran, Lo’ak managed to hoist Kalä into a tree, hoping the boy would get himself high enough. Just as he was to climb himself, the thanator charged towards him, narrowly missing Lo’ak as he threw himself to the side. Rolling down a small hill. 

“Lo’ak!” Kalä cried, Lo’ak could tell he was ready to jump out of the tree to help.

“No! Go back to camp, I’ll see you there!”

Lo’ak didn’t wait to see if the boy heard, taking off into the dense forest, the thanator close behind.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

What is he meant to do now? 

The thanator snaps forward, causing Lo’ak to duck through a narrow opening between tree roots hoping to catch his breath but the thanator was relentless. Clawing viciously at the intertwined roots to catch its prey. Lo’ak shuffled backward hoping there was a way to escape but just his luck, this tree was at the edge of a cliff. He quickly glanced around in a panic trying to weigh his options. 

He could either: sit here and let the thanator get in here and rip him to shreds. Try to fight the thanator but he didn’t have his bow, dropping it when trying to help Kalä. Or he could throw himself off the edge of the cliff and pray to Eywa that he doesn’t die. No option was looking to be successful. 

While Lo’ak was frantically trying to find a way to survive this encounter, he failed to notice that the thanator had stopped trying to eat him. It was silent, aside from his heavy breathing. Hesitantly, he leaned forward, trying to see through the gaps to see what was happening. 

He was able to see the thanator slumped on the floor, a spear wrapped in thick twine embedded deeply into its head. Lo’ak paused in confusion before slowly making his way out of his hiding spot. 

Standing there, on the other side of a thanator, was a girl Lo’ak assumed was his age. Clearly not from his clan. Her hair was braided out of her face and what seemed to be armour decorated her shoulders and chest. She stood tall, unnerved by the sight before her. The air around her seemed strong yet mysterious. The expression on her face is stoic as her eyes ran the length of Lo’ak body before stopping to meet his gaze. 

“Come.” she voiced before turning swiftly, and walking away from Lo’ak. She left little room for him to argue, so he briskly trailed behind her. His sloppy movements made enough noise for the two of them. 

He followed the unnamed girl until they reached the river connected to the waterfall, his original destination with Kalä. He spotted a lone direhorse grazing in the distance. The girl motioned Lo’ak to follow her as she squatted down, opening a small pouch that he had seen healers in his clan carry. 

“Sit.”

Lo’ak followed her demand and sat down in front of her, crossing his legs. He watched as she took out a piece of fabric and dipped it into the river before lifting it out and squeezing the excess water out of it. Lo’ak noted that all of her movements were fluid and graceful.

She reached forward and the wet cloth to the side of Lo’ak’s forehead causing him to hiss quietly and pull away.

“Stop it.” She hissed, grabbing his chin lightly and bringing him back to face her. 

Her hand didn’t move from its place on his face as she continued to dab his forehead. Lo’ak stared at her while she did so. Her face held no expression but her eyes were kind. She slowly moved the cloth down to under his eye, tabbing softly. Lo’ak wanted to recoil but the tender hold on his chin kept him in place. 

Diving back into her small pouch, the girl pulled out a small jar and Lo’ak was able to recognise the smell as soon as she took the lid off. It was a salve that his grandmother often used on clan members when they would get injured. It stung like no other but it was able to heal wounds quickly.

“Wait!” Lo’ak stalled, his hand circling the girl's wrist before she was able to touch his face. Her face remained neutral as she shook her wrist free from his grip with little effort and dabbed the salve on the grazes on his face. Lo’ak winced every time but didn’t move away.

Unexpectedly, the girl raised herself to her knees, holding the sides of Lo’ak’s head softly, blowing on his wounds. The action made his breath hitch. It was comforting, something his parents would do when he was younger, he knew it didn’t do anything to take away the pain but he appreciated it.

The girl leaned back, studying Lo’ak’s face before standing and turning to the river, washing her hands.

“Come. I will take you home.”

The girl made a clicking noise, causing the direhorse to raise its head and make its way over. The girl muttered something to the creature before making the bond and mounting it with ease. She leaned over the side and held her arm out to Lo’ak, who took it without hesitation. Once he was settled, he kept one of his hands on his thighs, and the other lightly on her shoulder, not sure what he should do. The girl sighed before reaching behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Here.”

Lo’ak didn’t even have time to blush as the direhorse lurched forward, breaking into a gallop. The forest blurs around them.

—

After a while, the direhorse’s pace slowed before coming to a stop. In the distance, Lo’ak could hear a commotion coming from his clan. He internally winced at the idea of what could be happening.

“Thank you for helping me,” Lo’ak mumbled, eyes in the distance.

“You are welcome.”

Lo’ak relaxed slightly, his hold around the girl’s waist slacking causing his hands to slowly fall to the top of her thighs. Which the girl did not react to. Clan members started to appear in the area, circling the pair. Jake stepped through the crowd, a look of relief on his face before he raised an eyebrow at his son. Lo’ak face flushed, almost instantaneously. He moved his hands like they had touched a naked flame and he scrambled to get off the creature.

“Thanks again.”

The girl nodded, before commanding the creature to turn away from the gathering clan members.

—

Y/n dismounted the direhorse, giving it a brief pat on the side before it went on its way. Y/n skillfully manoeuvred between the trees until she made it back to her small village, coming face to face with her sister.

“You killed a thanator for that sky demon, why?”

“It was the right thing to do and he isn’t a dreamwalker.” Y/n mumbled, making her way over to her tent.

“We watched him together, sister. He has 4 fingers. A sky demon. Where did you return him?”

“Omatikaya.”

“Ah yes. They love their demons. Isn’t their Olo'eyktan one?” Her sister sniggered, brushing a stray hair out of her face. “The one you saved is probably his child or something.”

“Yes? But does it matter? He is one of the people. It doesn’t concern us.”

Y/n’s sister scoffed before she began to walk away, quickly turning with her hands on her hips.

“I retrieved your spear, by the way. Dad would lose his head if you lost it, again. Oh, the sky demons bow too.”

Y/n hummed and nodded her head in acknowledgement. When she arrived at her tent and away from watching eyes, y/n rolled her eyes at her sister’s behaviour while taking off her armour. The boy from the Omatikaya seemed nice and y/n had to admit that he was handsome, dreamwalker or not. Looking at the bow resting against her trusted spear, y/n thought of how she was going to return the bow to the boy, ultimately deciding to just take it to him.

—

A few days later, with her mind made up, she began her journey, slinging the bow into her back and her spear in hand. It did not take her long to reach the outskirts of the Omatikaya village.

Doing what she does best, she hid out of view high in the trees, keeping as still as possible which was second nature to her. Not long after she was settled, y/n spotted a girl her age slip into the forest beneath her, a smaller girl running behind her.

“Kiri! Wait for me!”

Y/n dropped down softly and started to walk around the edge of the camp before she finally spotted the Olo’eyktan. Just as she was about to take a step to approach him, y/n was pushed from the side, the force did little to knock her off balance, her lack of movement caused whoever pushed her, to toppled over.

“Who are you?!” The girl, now on the floor, screeched which brought much attention.

Y/n didn’t reply, instead firmly securing her spear into the ground, observing the girl before her.

“Why are you here?!” The girl questioned again, getting to her feet and into a stance that would ‘protect’ her. Y/n could sense the nervousness rolling off her in waves.

“Tahé! Put the knife away.” The Olo'eyktan’s authoritative voice rang through the air.

Y/n’s lip quirked up at the side and she watched Tahé step back, her ‘confident’ demeanour slipping away instantaneously.

The Olo'eyktan finally made his way to the pair, his eyes landing on y/n, a look of confusion crossed his face briefly before it settled on a neutral expression but his eyes were curious.

“Hello. We met the other day, right? What brings you here again?”

Without a word, y/n slipped the bow off of her body and held it towards the older man.

“Oh.” He voiced, taking it slowly, “Thank you.”

Nodding, y/n nodded, pulling her spear out of its place and began to walk away from the growing crowd, leaving the Olo'eyktan stunned. As she reached the tree line, a blur came bounding towards her, only skidding to a stop then the tip of y/n’s spear was inches away from their throat.

“Hi! Sorry. You walk really fast. I would’ve called your name but I don’t know it.” The boy chuckled, “Thank you for bringing my bow back, I wasn't exactly ready to make a new one. I’m Lo’ak by the way.”

“Hmm.” Y/n lowered her spear, ready to continue on her journey but Lo’ak had other plans in mind. Stepping in front of her.

“Why don’t you stay for lunch? You saved my life, fixed my face and returned my bow. It’s the least I could do.”

Y/n watched him closely as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a slightly nervous look on his face, his eyes sometimes flickering to her side where she noticed the two girls from earlier standing there. The younger girl looked nervous whereas the older girl looked hopeful.

“Okay.”

Lo’ak let out a shaky breath before nodding, “Good, good. Uh, follow me.”

—

The lunch was an interesting sight to see. Kiri had taken an instant liking to the girl, who had finally introduced herself as y/n. She had spoken briefly to Neytiri, the older woman seemed to be very approving of her. Kalä had come to join them, showering Lo’ak’s guest with gratitude. The younger boy even gives y/n a bone-crushing hug, the girl awkwardly patting his back in confusion. 

“You don’t speak much.” Lo’ak pointed out.

“No.”

“Right, thank you again for the other day.”

Y/n nodded and Lo’ak grinned bashfully as she retreated into the forest silently.

Neteyam snuck up to his brother, placing his hands on his brother's shoulders, causing him to jump.

“My baby bro, in love,” Neteyam commented cheerfully.

“I am not.”

“Tell that to your face.”

Lo’ak shook his brother off, stalking back to the family tent, Neteyam laughing behind him. His soon-to-be mate coming up beside him, telling the older boy that it’s not funny.

—

The following day, Lo’ak woke up early to go on a walk. He wasn’t sure, he loved sleeping in but it felt like a need. He grabbed his bow, a few arrows and hopped over Kiri before starting his journey. There weren't many people awake, the sun was yet to rise.

Lo’ak absentmindedly walked through the forest, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Above him, the leaves rustled which caused him to pause, waiting for something to happen but there wasn’t a change in the atmosphere so he continued. He looked up slightly to see the sun peeking through the vast trees. Momentarily, the sun was blocked out by a dark figure moving swiftly.

Lo’ak readied his bow but before he could aim, a hand touched his back, startling him. Spinning on the spot, Lo’ak was met with y/n. He immediately noticed the difference in appearance, her hair was free of its braids. She wasn’t dressed in her armour nor was she holding her spear. Instead, she had her bow and arrow in hand and a hunting knife by her hip. It was a different look for her completely, she looked relaxed, and the air around her was still strong but less mysterious.

“Wow.”

“What?”

Lo’ak cleared his throat, taking a step back, “Nothing. Hi.”

“Why are you walking about at this time?” Y/n questioned, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I am going to wash my hair.”

“This early?”

“Yes,” Y/n nodded as she began to walk, “before my sister wakes.”

“Can I come?”

—

This is how the two interacted for the following months. Some days, Lo’ak would wake up early and go for a walk, y/n always found him. Or, the pair would go ‘hunting’ which was more y/n teaching Lo’ak how to be lighter on his feet and focus on his other senses.

Y/n checked the cloth covering Lo’ak’s eyes once more before standing in front of him again, placing small rocks that she had dipped in red paint in the palm of his hand. 

“Explain this to me again please.” A defeated sigh left his lips.

“I’m testing your hearing and reaction time.”

“But I might hurt you.”

“I doubt that you will.” Y/n quipped, circling him.

Lo’ak pulled the blindfold up on one side with his free hand, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you doubting my skills?”

“No,” y/n teased, dragging out the vowel, “Of course not.”

Lo’ak huffed as the girl covered his eyes again. Y/n stood at a reasonable distance away before tapping two sticks together. Lo’ak’s ears twitched before he threw a rock, missing the girl completely.

“So, where are these skills?”

“I’m warming up.”

Y/n moved a few steps to her left and tapped the sticks again. Lo’ak managed to get the rock closer but still missed.

“Warming up?”

“Yes,” Lo’ak grumbled, a smile gracing his lips.

Y/n did what she did best and danced around Lo’ak until she was directly behind him. Lo’ak’s ears twitched and he spun on the spot immediately and faced her. Reaching out a hand and placing a single red spot on her arm.

“See, I have skills.”

Some days, Lo’ak would have dinner with y/n’s family. On occasion, y/n would find herself in the Omatikaya camp with her father. He had become fast friends with the Olo'eyktan which was a surprise to everyone since he had made it clear time and time again that he did not want to be associated with the sky people.

During these times together, Lo’ak would catch himself staring at y/n which he would try to disguise. This didn’t go unnoticed by his family, especially when he would return to the camp with a lovesick expression and his cheeks slightly tinted.

—

“So, y/n?” Lo’ak froze on the spot at his father’s voice behind him.

“What about her?” Lo’ak questioned back, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Nothing really, you two just seem to be spending a lot of time together.”

“So?”

Jake broke out into a smug grin, crossing his arms and putting his weight onto one foot.

“She’s nice,” Jake started, his grin growing wider and his son’s face flushed. “A skilled warrior.”

“Yeah, she is,” Lo’ak mumbled

“You must be learning a lot from her.”

“I am.”

Kiri walked into the tent, raising her eyebrow at her brother.

“Is Lo’ak in trouble?” She questioned curiously.

“No, just in love.”

“I’m not in love,” Lo’ak said, his voice slightly wavering.

“With y/n?! Finally! Does she know?” Kiri beamed which caused Jake to chuckle slightly.

“Of course, she doesn’t know, Lo’ak doesn’t have the guts to tell her.” Jake taunted, Lo'ak's mouth flying open.

“That’s fine, I will help you, dear brother.”

Lo’ak looked between the two in disbelief.

“If I want help, I’ll ask Mum.” Lo’ak grumbled.

“So you admit it. You’re in love.”

Lo’ak gave Kiri a pointed look before stalking out of the tent, leaving his father and sister to laugh at his expense.

—

The next morning, Lo’ak woke up early but did not leave the tent, he lay stiffly as he thought back to all of his interactions with y/n. Was he in love? It was just a crush, at most. He thought. 

How could he not have a crush on her? She’s beautiful. 

Lo’ak heard shuffling from the other side of the tent. Someone bent down beside him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t we go for a walk,” Neytiri suggested.

Lo’ak nodded sleepily and slowly the two made their way out of the tent.

“Your father tells me you’re in love.” Neytiri started once they were a distance away from any prying ears.

Lo’ak’s cheeks flushed as he ran his hands over his face.

“I’m not ‘in love’, but I do like her.” He confessed without hesitation.

“What do you like about her?”

“She’s kind. She doesn’t speak a lot but that’s fine. She listens to me. She’s been teaching me how the Tipani hunt, it’s so fascinating, she’s fascinating...”

Lo’ak continued to list all the things he has grown to like and admire about the Tipani girl, Neytiri was sure he didn’t realise what he was truly confessing to.

“But I am not in love with her.” He concluded, looking at his mother.

“I’m sure you’re not.” Humour is evident in Neytiri’s voice, “but you should tell her of your feelings, she may feel the same way.”

“And what if she doesn’t, I don’t want to make it weird.”

“And what if she does?”

—

That evening, Lo’ak sat stiffly on a thick branch, his legs hanging over the edge. Y/n lay next to him peacefully, watching the sky. 

“What’s the matter, Lo’ak?” The girl questioned, turning slightly so that she could see his face.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Y/n sat up, turning her body fully towards the boy beside her. 

“Lo’ak?” Softly, y/n placed her hand on his chin, moving his face towards hers. “What is wrong?”

Lo’ak studied the girl’s face carefully. Before he could register what was happening, his lips met hers, eyes fluttering closed. The kiss was over before it started.

“Sorry.” Lo’ak’s face felt as though it was on fire as he looked away. 

“It’s fine.” For the first time, y/n’s voice sounded timid. 

“I didn’t mean to-.”

“Lo’ak, it’s fine.”

The pair sat in an awkward silence, neither knowing what to say or do. 

Y/n cleared her throat, standing up slowly. 

“I should go.”

Lo’ak looked up at her, ready to apologise again but the words were stuck in his throat as a single woodsprite floated down from the trees, followed by several more. As if she heard them, y/n spun around, shock appearing on her face. Lo’ak scrambled to his feet, almost falling over the side of the branch but he managed to steady himself as woodsprites circled him as well. 

Y/n turned to face him, a smile lighting her face. 

“I really, really like you, y/n.” Lo’ak confessed, lowering his gaze, feeling slightly embarrassed, “I, uh, just wanted you to know.”

“I really like you too, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak’s head perked up, his eyes widening, “Really?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Y/n stepped forward, taking his hands in hers, gently brushing her thumbs over his knuckles. The small act of affection reassured Lo’ak, any fears he had melted away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Y/n questioned humorously.

Lo’ak nodded with a smile before placing a gentle hand under her chin, leaning in for another kiss.

—

“Finally!” Tuk yelled in the distance before Kiri slapped her hand over her sister's mouth. 

“Shhh!”

Neytiri grinned to herself at the sight, little Tuk giggling behind her hand trying to keep quiet. Jake and Kiri high-fived silently behind them. Neteyam nodded to himself, kissing the back of his soon-to-be mate's hand.

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[yaut-jaknowit]

How about high tension between a male yautja and human. Where one gets drunk and finally yells that they want to fuck them already.

Tensions Run High

Pairing: Icheall-Dua (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2555

Summary: It was at a gathering for Yautjas and humans alike on a different planet than Yautja Prime. You had been constantly trying to hit up Icheall-Dua and he couldn’t get the idea! So, one night, during a feast of celebration that Icheall-Dua was going to become leader of the clan, you get drunk. A very bad thing. You have loose lips. When you tried again with Icheall-Dua and he doesn’t get it again, you straight up yell it in front of the clan.  

Author Note: I realized this has taken me two months to get to. Sorry that production has slowed down. I've been grinding away at my game. Also, I didn't know if you wanted spicy or not, so I decided to leave it out just encase. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Ao3

Sonorous voices that boomed across the clearing filled the air. Joyous in nature. Prideful for the years to come. Every rise and fall of the suns to bring a life and challenges to the clan. You held up a cup of a drink that was considered alcohol. Between a Yautja and human mixture of potent alcohol, deluded for yourself.

It reminded you of whiskey with the slight burn with each sip you took. A drink not meant for shots. Rather just to take sips here and there. It’ll still knock you on your ass three drinks later. So, you took your time to consume the interesting taste of the smokey concoction.

Despite living among the predators of the universe and showing we are equals rather than enemies, the two species have come together. Some clans as you’ve heard are more reluctant, or rather downright say no, to allowing humans into their ranks.

Others, like the one you live in, are more accepting if you pull your own. You will not be babied. If you die, you die. A kill or be killed world on this planet. This isn’t even Yautja Prime. Yet, its dangers rival Yautja Prime.

You breathed in the marshes stagnant air. Though the division is still evident; Yautjas with Yautjas and humans with humans, you couldn’t help but find yourself drawn to Icheall-Dua. Marsh green and cream bellied. His scales are basic compared to those you’ve seen throughout your time through a few clans.

What Icheall-Dua lacks in different physical aspects, he makes up in his skills. From the words whispered amongst the clan, he’s a prodigy. He’s the next best thing. A male anyone would kill to be but could never get to his level. Yet, no matter how many times you try to send the right signals in Icheall-Dua’s direction, he doesn’t see it! The skulls, the meat, the Yautja way of courting!

Weeks of research were put into this before you attempted the first time. It should’ve been clear as a peacock spreading its tail feathers. No though. He accepted the gifts but never said anything after that.

At first, you drew back to ensure what you read was correct. Skulls of creatures are the first step. You did just that. Yeah, it wasn’t the dangerous creature on this planet but it nearly killed you! His obliviousness didn’t deter you though. You took a slow sip of your drink again, eyes sliding over to the beast that filled your thoughts.

A large cup filled with a similar concoction to your own was cupped in one of his large hands. Two of three fingers missing on that hand. You knew there was harrowing story to explain what happened. A story you would love to listen to with his deep, grating voice. The sound crunchy like stepping on a gravel road. Another sip downed the rest of the liquid.

With a sigh, you stepped around the larger species that filled the space to the bar tender. A night like this was to be celebrated with alcohol always being included.

After living around these guys for a quarter of your life time, you have learned it’s best to slip between them. Some will shift their weight allow you easier access around them. Yet, many have the mindset not to move for anything. You’ve learned to be slippery rather than it becoming a dick measuring contest. Not submission but avoiding unnecessary fighting. Why get wounded if it all could be avoided? Somethings in this culture you’ll never come to understand.

Once you reached the bar tender again, you set your empty glass on the counter and tapped twice. Ci’tha grunted and immediately got to work. Your drink was set in front of you with a tangy tasting fruit on the rim. You thanked the yellow based Yautja with a dip of your head then leaned against the count with your back to it. People watching.

Other humans were amongst the crowd, mingling with mainly other humans. Only a select few were chatting away with the friendlier Yautjas in the clan. None of them dared to go close to Icheall-Dua nor his father who had a permanent scowl etched into his worn features. A life lived through the ways of a Yautja of hunting and gaining scars along the way.

Icheall-Dua went to sip at his cup only to find it empty and shook his cup. You instantly noticed and spun around to face Ci’tha. “Do you remember what Icheall-Dua is having?” you rushed out and jerked your head over towards Icheall-Dua direction. The poor yellow Yautja jolted at the sudden move then glared at you. You sheepishly smiled an apology at him.

Ci’tha rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I do. Why?” he grunted and raised a brow at you.

“Can you make it? Yautja sized?” you sweetly asked the lanky Yautja who stood in your way of impressing Icheall-Dua some more. Though, the two of you didn’t talk on the regular, he could see what was happening. He rolled his blue eyes again before got to work.

The large mug was set before you. You threw a thanks towards Ci’tha before snatching it racing through the sea of bodies. At points, you nearly shoved your way through but reframed from starting a fight. All you had was a mug and a small knife not long enough to hit anything important on a Yautja.

After breeching the main crowd of people, you were able to make your way up to Icheall-Dua standing in all of his glory. His father only a couple of steps away from him, speaking to another Yautja. Icheall-Dua, himself, was crowd watching until you stopped before him.

“Hello… I saw your cup was empty and retrieved one for you,” you spoke up and presented the cup to him. His sky blue eyes looked down upon over the jut of his small snout. Icheall-Dua blinked slowly in boredom, gaze glancing to the cup in your hand.

He reached out and took it. A critical eye peered and inspected the contents. You gnawed on your bottom lip, in hopes he would accept the drink but nothing else was working. Maybe a drink would win him over.

The Yautja raised his shoulders in a shrug and gulped from the cup. You silently cheered to yourself, praying this was him finally noticing your advances towards him.

Next to him, Zutouh, his father, leaned over and scoffed at you. It didn’t deter you though. Through his one good eye, he analyzed you. Not all Yautjas still accept humans into their ranks. The older generations such as Zutouh are part of that. You’re used to it at this point, even dealing with clans who would kill you on sight.

“Great party,” you tried to start small talk in hopes to get Icheall-Dua to open up a little more. “What’s it for?” A closed mouth smile was directed towards Icheall-Dua.

Icheall-Dua kept his nonchalant expression plastered to his face. “I’m becoming the clan leader,” he stated as if it was an everyday thing. You tensed up mid sip of your drink, eyes darting over to his marsh green hide.

Well yeah. Zutouh is his father and the clan leader. Yet, each Yautja usually has a bunch of children. You didn’t know Icheall-Dua was next in line to ascend the throne. By Paya’s grace, you truly didn’t stand a chance against any of the females who would flock to him. Clan leader got you lots of perks. A title Icheall-Dua had to have earned out of all of his siblings.

“That’s amazing! Are you excited?” you kept up with the small talk, using questions to get answers from him. You gulped down a mouthful of your drink again as it started to affect your mind and rational thinking. “Of course, a male such as yourself with that physique definitely deserves that position.”

Drunk words were sober thoughts.

Alcohol gave you loose lips.

Zutouh snorted and shook his massive head in disbelief. You didn’t care though. What you said was true. Icheall-Dua was built well, the prodigy everyone saw him as.

One of his upper manibles quirked up for less than a second yet you caught it. “This is my destiny.” His answer short, barely even sweet. You nearly deflated at that but an idea came to him.

“Well, does your destiny have me included in it?” you flirted with him again like all the times before. You hoped he would finally get the big picture you were waving in front of him.

This caught Icheall-Dua off guard. The Yautja nearly choked on his drink you graciously provided for him and snapped his gaze to you. Hope flickered in your eyes as you noticed you had more of his attention on you. His hand tightened on his cup, claws slightly scraping across the glass wear.

Except, it all faded away when he pulled back that nonchalant expression and shrugged again. You could almost scream at him for that. Your nose flared with a snort, lips pressed tightly into a line. The alcohol in your system not helping one bit. A near glare was settled on the stupid marsh colored Yautja who you’ve pinned for the last few months.

Like a volcano, there’s only so much you could hold in.

“For the love of everything unholy, I want to fuck you!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, fire blazing in your veins while you stared this male down. “I’ve been trying for months the Yautja way to get your attention. And-and nothing! You hadn’t acknowledge my attempts or even told me to stop! I don’t know what I can do anymore.”

It all came out. Ranitng out your horrible experience trying to court a Yautja their way. All this research was false, wrong. It led you on for months and left you to feel this angry… in front of a crowd.

Your shoulders heaved with each lungful breath. The crowd around you had gone silence due to your shouting. The realization struck you, dosing you in freezing cold water. Your shoulders tensed up, eyes wide, glued to the spot. Nothing could make you move until Icheall-Dua took a step towards you.

Then, you spun on your tail and darted between humans and Yautja alike, a stumbling, drunk mess. They didn’t part for you, even when you ran into them but when a shadow gave chase, they instantly let him through. Your arm was snatched in a vice grip that would bruise tomorrow. Heat slammed into your chest, forcing you to pressed to his torso. Tears pooled the lips of your eyes as you looked everywhere but him. You couldn’t see the rage of you interrupting his celebration, of you ruining the night with this silly crush.

Your entire jaw was swallowed up by a hand and forcefully tilted your head back. Through blurry tears, you find his blue eyes on you.

“Say that again,” he demanded with a voice he used to lead. You tried to struggle against him, nearly turning your head enough to bite his fingers. Nothing worked to get him off of you. Icheall-Dua easily far stronger in close quarters… yet, you didn’t want to hurt him anyhow.

“Why? So you can embarrass me in front of everyone. Show everyone how much of a fool I was? To think I had a chance with you?” you snarled then paused for a pregnant moment. He squeezed his hand tighter on your jaw in a short warning. Icheall-Dua wasn’t one to be around humans often, he didn’t understand their fragileness. “Should’ve brushed me off the first time I gifted you a skull.”

None of this would be happening if he had.

“And why would I do that? I was following the advice given to me by your fellow humans for your courting rituals.” If he didn’t have such a tight grip, you would’ve jerked your head back. Instead, you raised your brows instead.

He was following dating advice… What had they told him? Also, dating?! Your heart started to thump loudly in your ears, like war drums. He had gone out of his way to ask for advice.

A lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “What, what was the advice?” you questioned and untensed your muscles. The Yautja responded by easing up his grasp on your jaw and wrist. Icheall-Dua didn’t let you go fully though. Not that you could outrun a Yautja in the first place.

His gaze deviated over to a group of humans who were staring the two of you down. Everyone part of the party was. “Samual said to ‘play hard to get’. It get’s people needy.” Oh, you were going to kill Samual when you had the chance. All these months of torture because that dumbass told him horrible advice.

You couldn’t help the breath of relief that escaped your lungs. Then, you began to laugh and shook in his hold. “That’s the worst advice anyone could give you. No, ‘playing hard to get’ is the worst way to show someone you’re into them.” Your laughter died down. “And I thought my research was a fraud when you didn’t react to any of the gifts I gave you.”

Icheall-Dua growled lowly in his chest and spread his mandibles in a display towards the humans. The group jolted and instantly scrambled away to be hidden away in the crowd. With them gone, he returned his attention back on you. “You did well and everything right. I apologize I wasn’t properly conveying my feelings towards you. Will you forgive me?”

All that tension in your shoulders you’ve been holding for months finally fell off. “Yes, yes. I forgive you and whatever stupid advice Samual gave you. I would say to do research but… that has also bad information as well.” His hand on your wrist released you to cup your waist. Goosebumps immediately rose on your arms. A tingle running down your spine.

“And what were you saying early? If my memory serves correct: you want to fuck me?” Oh god, he just had to bring that up! Heat instantly rushed your cheeks.

“That’s-that’s just the alcohol talking. I’m drunk. Had some drinks… I don’t know what you mean,” you did everything in your power to get him off of that.

“Daring little thing,” he mused and ran his thumb claw across your lips. Just a little more pressure and he could slice the feeble skin apart. “Taking more than they can chew.” You knew you had chosen right. He was still going to fuck with you though.

He leaned down so only the next words were spoken directly at you. “Once this party ends, would you like to start the night back in my tent?” he whispered. Your brain blanked. Not a single thought entered your mind for a long, unknown amount of time.

When some of the fog cleared, you rapidly nodded your head, eager. “My naughty little ooman.” He returned to his full towering height and offered his hand to you. “Come along, I know of seat you wouldn’t want to leave.”

Curses filled your head, the only thing to make sense in your fray of mental words to yourself. The things you could do to him.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

[voidhope]

omg i loved the second part of the other woman!!!

this isn't a request, u don't have to write this but i thought of an alternate outcome/ending to ur story: what would happen if reader were to die? hmm much thought

also imo u should definitely keep writing! ur style has so much potential!

-that one junji ito anon

thank you thank you thank youuu 🥺 i’m so glad u enjoyed it!!

ooo i actually had already wrote some notes to this! having the reader die was something i had considered but then i was like damn they lost their home, their man, and they DIE 🧎🏻‍♀️ would have a been a bit too cruel haha

I think what would have happened is;

miguel would have never moved on. Loosing a loved ones time and time again having such a tragedy a 3rd time in his life he would completely close himself off after this. He would never be the same. He’ll find a way to blame himself, as reader wouldn’t have returned to their universe if he hadn’t cheated. With the amount of guilt he was already holding this would just destroy him. Instead of having a grumpy personality you’d see his grief turn him more empty, less empathetic, and would struggle to feel anymore.

Reader is very very unique!! ofc there are many versions of them in the multiverse but there’s only one version as a spider. Reader wasn’t meant to become a spider person and was bit by accident summoning a spider from Miguel’s earth. You could say similar to miles situation! So the thought of Miguel not being able to even see another version that resembles you so closely would leave him distraught and he would find himself struggling to even want to keep protecting the multiverse. I could see him maybe even having to steps down as spider-man 2099 and let maybe jessica take over the spider society as he couldn’t do missions anymore as he would struggle with ptsd.

I think it might take him awhile to come back but when he does he’s way more aggressive in missions. in universes where he would have to face kingpin again he would really show no mercy. Reader’s death would not just hit hard on him but the entire spider society as they had been such an important figure there.

#anon answered #man y’all just wanna see poor miguel and reader SUFFER

[corazondebeskar-reads]

fic recs - Joel Miller (one-shots pt. 1)

fic recs for one-shots starring Joel Miller.

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = rough/bdsm elements, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

Mind the warnings, and please read responsibly. you control your own media consumption.

All Fic Recs | TLOU Fic Recs | Joel series | one-shots pt. 2

dark!Joel

*note: if fics fit multiple categories but contain dark!Joel, they will go here only. Mind the warnings, and please read responsibly. you control your own media consumption.

🏴💀 Nightmare Before Christmas by @katiexpunk

Summary: As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked.  Most of the time.  Tonight is not one of those times.

🏴⛓ truth or dare by @joelscruff

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage.

🏴His Protection by @absurdthirst

summary: When David's group takes you and Ellie to their settlement, you warn them that Joel will come for you. Knowing that he will do whatever it takes to get back those under his protection.

🏴 hostage by @atticrissfinch

summary: when you get lost in the woods, a stranger offers to help you get back to your camping site. when your gut tells you to run, you run--until he catches you.

🏴 ensnare by @ozarkthedog

summary: despite your reluctance, joel wants to fill you up.

🏴vicious by @sinsofsummers

summary: joel fucks you in his gas mask.

🏴 mothman fever by @beskarandblasters

summary: You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And that’s where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that he’s not who he says he is.

🏴 Joel Fucking Miller by @pedroshotwifey

summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

🏴 Keep Cry'n & Cry Harder by @romana-after-dark

summary: Joel kidnaps you, but can't even wait long enough to put his dick inside you to cum.

🏴 keep on your mean side by @milla-frenchy and @aurorawritestoescape

summary: Joel takes you to Degradation Town

🏴💀 Mercy by @lokischocolatefountain

summary: Stranded alone in the woods and left to die, all you can ask of Joel Miller is the mercy of a quick death. He is willing to give it to you, but he needs something for himself as well.

🏴 Hurt and Protect by @lokischocolatefountain

summary: In a world where politeness wasn’t part of trade, it helped to have someone like Joel Miller as your protector. But to be his to protect also meant being his to hurt.

🏴down to the ankles by @atinylittlepain

summary: monsters are made of myths. in this story, two myths become one. two myths are in love. they are in wretched love.

🏴💀 no soul to sell by @atticrissfinch

summary: divorced joel is fucking his way through his newly acquired bachelor status, when he remembers you—the (recent) ex-girlfriend of his son—are now an option for him. 

bdsm

fics with explicitly d/s dynamics or play, not just rough sex/kinks, dom!Joel unless otherwise noted

⛓ Push & Pull by @javiscigarette

summary: Joel just realllyyy likes your dress

⛓ curled in by @bonezone44

summary: joel ties you up and makes you suck his toes and get off on his foot

⛓ something new by @atticrissfinch

*this is technically part of a series but it's a standalone piece.

summary: Joel wants to introduce you to a new kink (watersports).

⛓ spend all your love making time by @haylzcyon (sub!Joel)

summary: You're everything Joel never knew he needed.

⛓ slumber by @cool-iguana

summary: Joel needs you, but you’re asleep. Giving in to desperation, he can’t help himself from making you feel good.

⛓ what do you need? by @whatsnewalycat

summary: brat tamer!Joel and brat!reader in an exploration of a scene where reader is overwhelmed/stressed and needs Joel to help her find peace through submission.

⛓ kinktober day 30: free use by @softpascalito

summary: Joel comes home urgently needing some relief. Its a good thing youre there- and the first time Joel makes use of an ... interesting agreement.

jackson!Joel

observations by @ezrasbirdie

summary: You're not like the other girls, but it'd be easier if you were. Joel Miller doesn't see it that way.

One and Done by @moralesispunk

summary: Joel never leaves you wanting more, but sometimes you do like to tease him

old habits by @wheresarizona

summary: Back in Boston, Joel Miller was your favorite client who frequented your services, exchanging ration cards and other items deemed illegal for sex with you until he just disappeared one day. It’s years later, and now, by a stroke of dumb luck on your journey out west, you’ve found yourself in the town of Jackson and in close proximity to Joel once again, the two of you immediately falling back into old habits

⛓ cruel by @notjustjavierpena

summary: Joel and you never attend the rest of Jackson’s population when it’s movie night. Instead, you become one messy tangle of limbs and oh, how you love him being a meanie.

 

qz!Joel

Pistol by @cosmictheo

summary: during a stormy night at bill and frank's house, joel teaches you how to hold your gun, and this opens up the perfect opportunity for the two of you to finally release all the feelings of longing and lust you've been repressed for each other over the past few weeks.

What Happens Here, Stays Here by @fettuccin-e

summary: anonymous sex with qz!Joel

signs I don't read by @pascalisbaby

summary: joel likes things done his way, especially when he’s fucking you

⛓ kinktober day 28: cuckolding by @absurdthirst

summary: your boyfriend owes Joel and can't pay up, so Joel takes you as payment instead.

🏴 The Stranger by @nala2811

summary: You and a certain stranger are hurled away to somewhere else within the QZ, where you both are required to perform a very particular task…

angst

september by @cavillscurls

summary: Joel hates his birthday. You discover why.

born lucky, under a bad star by @softlyspector

summary: Joel has always been lucky, in the worst of ways.

nobody's son, nobody's daughter by @fragilefable

summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic rec #the last of us fic #the last of us fic rec #tlou fic rec

[udretlnea]

An Idealized Image

Prompt: You die after getting hit by a truck and inspect your suddenly ideal appearance in the new world. Inspired by this post by @mists-reading-nook

A/N: Man, starting a story with disconnected parts is fun and difficult. First time using this literary device so be patient with me.

Words: 755

You hadn’t expected getting hit by a truck to hurt so damn much. But you’d gladly do it again if it meant you’d protect a child from getting run over.

Although you were dying, you still could feel the barest sensations around you; vaguely there was muffled shouting and crying. Good, the kid was safe and the driver was getting yelled at. Not that that mattered to you anymore.

Oh well, at least it’s over now. 

The first world has been chosen. Initiating upload link.

You thought you heard someone, but that’s crazy. You were dead. The dead don’t hear voices. Maybe this was one of those post-death auditory hallucinations. Do…do the dead even have those? Actually, I guess nobody would know…except the dying. Ugh. What a morbid thought. I expected myself to have prettier final thoughts.

Link established. Uploading soul to the Samsara system now. Beginning samsara cycle #1…godspeed.

There it was again. You started thinking that maybe you weren’t dead, when suddenly you felt your soul being pulled down…down…down into the darkness. Rather than become panicked you felt a sense of peace. You allowed yourself to be carried until you felt a shift in the pressure around you.

Before you could realize what was happening, you blacked out.

////

He’s not waking up…should I do it manually?

Hang on, what are those kitsunes doing?

You feel something tap-tap-tapping against your side. Your eyes flutter open, barely registering the fact that there’s green all around you. Turning your head, you see several orange foxes nudging your body. The sleep leaves you immediately. You surge to your feet and back away from them

They didn’t make any moves toward you. The littlest one stared at you with its big eyes; after a moment it seemed to be satisfied. It turned to the others and made a sound. It wasn’t long before they ran away, leaving you by yourself. Come to think of it, where were you? 

Everywhere around, you can see plants, trees, and just general things you’d find in a forest-wait, forest!?

Oh no, where the hell did I end up? Is this some kind of spiritual afterlife? You run, not really going anywhere, just someplace to get your bearings. You find a small stream. Thinking quickly, you examine your reflection, fearful that you looked like a ghost. However, what greets you instead is your pristine face without any blemishes.

Huh? Is that…me? No, no it can’t be. I’m not that…I’m not this immaculate! This is a dream, this has to be a dream! You do anything you can to wake up; you smack, slap, and pinch yourself all in that order, but it’s no use. It seems you weren’t dreaming. 

Defeated, you decide to examine yourself. Amazingly, your skin was smooth, but you don’t recall it being like that. Furthermore, your eyes were completely different. Since when were your pupils a yellow pinprick, or your irises a brilliant shade of silver? Most concerning of all was your hair. It was white as snow. You pull at it, looking closely at the roots to check if it wasn’t dyed. You looked rather beautiful. Additionally, you finally noticed that your clothes were different. 

When you died, you were wearing a hoodie and regular pants and shoes. Now, you were wearing a simple white kimono; a closer inspection revealed that it looked like genuine silk. Confused yet satisfied with your examination, you looked at your surroundings. Everything was slightly dark as if it were nighttime.

Weird, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. What DOES matter is figuring out where the heck I am. You push yourself off the ground, shaking the dirt off of your clothes. You look around you, wondering which direction to walk towards when something catches your eye. Squinting, you could make out the silhouette of a city in the distance. It almost looked like Japan, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Well, there’s the path to civilization right there. Now all I need to do is get over there without trouble.

You notice a well-worn path. You take it, pleased that you took the first step in your journey. Hopefully, you’d find what you needed to know.

////

Elsewhere, a solitary figure was meditating alone in a different plane of existence. Here in this space, she would achieve eternity and resist erosion.

And then she felt it. A sudden wave of divine energy sent tingles throughout her incorporeal body. This was unprecedented…what could have caused it? She needed to know. She had to know.

#sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin imagines #it’s short but they can’t all be long. Or winners. #I’m satisfied I managed to include a somewhat cohesive story with hints of a plot #perhaps making a story with disconnected events will be easier than I thought. #genshin impact sagau #genshin fanfic #what if we started in Inazuma instead of Mondstadt btw? #I imagine Ei would be curious with you #oh we'll see where the plot goes

[lizziespoem]

love's first kiss ❊ kento nanami ͏⸺ mini series. pt I // next chapter

⸺ to sit in silence and love, what miserable glimpse of insanity lingering behind those burning hearts with the spectacular sensation swinging between rationality and flimsiness, to study the philosophy of autonomic neuropathy and beliving in the weekly shuffled tarot cards, to not understand the thought behind a simple piece of art and yet searching in between the lines, to pretend there was a quite whisper everytime the leaves twisted into another world.

there were dozens of mysteries, creations of cunning heads, answers to unspoken secrets and still there seemed to be no end. was it foolish to believe?

maybe all of this was just a thief of time, another dream ready to die, but even if it all kept quite there was this unhinged feeling that you were meant to find someone, to find the possession of your memories through the thick stardust, to follow the echoing pulse, it seems so easy to dream of true hopeless love.

it seemed so easy to create this idea of the secret hunt to find this one guise.

maddening hunger and nervous breakdowns, gravity laws and angel numbers, newspaper articles and blissful fairytales, seas of souls and stories to find, different eyes see different things and nevertheless nanami and you were meant to dream each others dreams, to become the next beautiful written and composed masterpiece of a poet, to be remembered and captured.

there the lonely man was, stumbling across those dark avenues with his hands in his pockets, his blonde hair rumpled and tousled by the cold air that kept kissing his lightly colored cheeks as his eyes studied the gloomy night sky, wishing upon a star and there were you, in between here and there, almost made by the moon with your illuminating features, astonishing as a piece of art and the answers to nanamis helpless prayers, the keeper of the suns flame. your eyes lingered on the starry night, wishing upon a star.

everything and opposite, perhaps it was meant to reach the immorality.

the sparking stars twitched, frowning your brows, almost as if they knew a secret to tell with a mischievous smile, but before nanami or you could ask, you’re meant to finish your eternal hunt. around midnight, beneath the mystic moon you’ve meet, the two comets collide with a dull crack in the lack of time, without being ready to find those answers to all of your questions.

the man placed his arms over the rusty railing while his gaze still tried to capture the silent of the night, only a couple inches away from him were you, sitting on the old mossy bench studying the illumating outlines of the dreamy man, and for the first time you didn’t longed to look up and admire the stars.

The blonde man could have sworn he was never desperate for love, yet he couldn’t hide his tiny smile everytime he saw an old couple together walking down the streets.

"it’s beautiful isn’t it?" you say calmly, not knowing where any of the confidence is coming up of you, yet you drew the attention of the man, causing his eyes to catch a glimpse over you in the shadows.

for a moment it seemed like he wasn’t entirely there, between here and there, tendering where he want to be, a natural form of chaos and nanami couldn’t remember who he was before he meet you, couldn’t understand if this moment was a dream or a memory, still it was too good to be true.

"almost too good to be true" nanami's word stumbled across his silver tongue as he studied your movement and those little wrinkles around your lips as soon as the corners lifted up a bit, because of his words.

A little almost fainted smile appears on your glossy lips as your eyes traveled back up onto the shimmering moon, making your throat tense but yet you seemed so careless and free as one of the sparkling stars and while you admired the dashingly moon, all that nanami could see was the magical star right next to him.

"a dreamer, aren’t you?" the man studied every of your delightful movements as the air floated around you, almost as if your were able to split every molecule.

"out of your mouth it sounds like something bad" you chuckled as you tilded your head lightly to the side, looking through your dark curled lashes as your voice sounded gentle almost caring, while your mind created entire romances in your head.

The tall man shook his head as he shifted his body towards you, leaning with his back against the railing "I would never say such a foolish thing"

"well I would never be ashamed of admitting that I am a dreamer" you said calmly as you studied the facial structure of the man "I rather be a dreamer that a person that live and has no story to tell"

Smirks lingered on the both of your lips and there it was, something only the moon and his children could see, something more, something more the both of you could feel inside of your hearts yet no one said, captivating beautiful and the world got quite for a brief second.

A charming grin crosses the lips of Nanami as his jaw tensed and with his hand he rubbed against his neck "but how could you live and have no story to tell?"

"fyodor dostoyevsky" you said without looking away from him and god it was so dangerous to get lost inside your eyes and still to tempting for Nanami as small wrinkles appeared right next to his smile "cunning, I see"

sometimes the eyes can say more than the mouth, and the way your eyes stole all of nanamis words away said it all, he was terrified of waking up and realizing that you were only a dream.

"are you a dreamer?" you asked him as your hair floated in the air like cotton floss and you pulled your coat closer to your body to keep your body warm, while nanami seems to think for a second before answering "I would call myself an accident prone adventurer"

A soft laugh escaped your mouth and a light reddish tone filling up your cheeks as you moved your hand to cover your mouth, causing Nanami to chuckle raucous "you should hide such a pretty laugh"

Innocent lovers of this night with hammering hearts, wearing thick layers of clothes too hide from the freezing cold winter air and the distance turns into their worst fear. An unconditional coincidence leading the two of you collide and yet no one seemed to separate you, no more whispers, hardly any breath and no hidden fees, just two children of the moon and the sun, two meteor’s ready to finally meet.

"tell me what do you dream of" he said curious as he watched you silently, not seeing any fears or any curses around you, it was only you, a strange sight for him.

Your eyebrows frowned as you tilted your head a bit "my dreams?"

"a thing that’s constantly rushing through your head" nanami said calmly as he still studied you, normally it was easy for him to read people, but looking at you was like looking at the galaxies, knowing that there was so much more he would never be able to understand.

You shake your head as you looked down at your hands but the voice of the man makes your gaze met his "common I’m a stranger, I won’t judge"

Stolen glances melting those silhouettes under the silvery stars, blending them together while the moonlight embraced the needed familiarity, mesmerized and terrified just by one simple sight and with each glance you both got suddenly weaker, mouths getting numb and unable to speak, your souls sinking in deeper.

"I dream of being capable to understand" your voice was weak, as your dreamy eyes directed to the shimmering stars, afraid of the man to judge you and yet not afraid enough to speak again "there is so much more than eyes will ever meet and I crave to understand how we can love so radically"

"I admire the way you dream" the blonde man smirks as he catches the glimpse in your eyes "to dream looks pretty on you"

He catches you as your take a curios look on the up lighting screen of you phone after a small sigh left your mouth and you secretly cursed your best friend for needing you right now at this moment, causing the steam dancing up into the air as you carefully got up onto your feet’s, trying not to slip over the slippery icy spots on the floor.

"I must go now, but i really enjoyed talking to you.." you apologized yourself and before nanami could even say anything back you left.

Afraid that even a name could probably ruin this moment you decided to leave, to leave without any hints or clues, wanting to stay a stranger in this thoughts, wanting to keep this intimate moment as dreamy as it was.

© 2023 LIZZIESPOEM. please do not copy any of my writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

tags; @ponderingmoonlight

#jujutsu kaisen #anime #imagine #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk x reader #jujutsu x reader #jjk imagines #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #kento nanami #nanami x you #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanamin #kento x y/n #kento x you #jujutsu kento #jjk kento #kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines

[jeannereames]

Your top 5 Alexander the Great moments?

Top Five Alexander Moments

One issue with answering this is to figure out what events actually happened, especially when it comes to anecdotes! Here are four I find either significant to understanding his charisma and/or which explain how he functioned and why he was successful, plus one I like just because I’m a horse girl.

1) To my mind, the event that best illustrates why his men followed him to the edge of their known world occurred in the Gedrosian Desert. While I’m a bit dubious that this trek was as bad as it’s made out to be (reasons exist for exaggerating), it was still baaaad. One story relates that some of his men found some brackish water in a sad little excuse for a spring, gathered it in a helm, and brought it to him. Given his poor physical condition after the Malian siege wound, he no doubt needed it badly. He thanked them (most sincerely), then carried it out where all (or at least a lot) of his men could see, raised it overhead, and announced that until all of them could drink, he wouldn’t. Then he poured it onto the rocky ground.

That gesture exemplified his charisma. And it absolutely is not something the likes of a Donald tRump could even imagine doing—nor most dictators, tbh. They’d be blaming everybody else and calling for heads while drinking Diet Coke, not suffering alongside their people.

This wasn’t an isolated event of that type. While he almost certainly didn’t have time to engage along with his soldiers in every project, we’re told he would drop in from time-to-time, to inspire them and to offer a little friendly competition.

He also dressed like his men for everyday activities, especially early in the campaign. As time went on, some sources say he inserted more distance—probably necessary as his duties exploded—but he still seems to have found time to “just hang out” with his Macedonians on occasion. The claims that he was too high and mighty to do so appears to have been exaggeration (as such accusations often are) in order to forward a narrative that he was “going Asian.” Troop resentment over court changes was very genuine—I don’t want to underplay it (especially as I’ve written about it in a few chapters in this), but it tended to boil up during certain periods/events, then die back again. Alexander was trying to walk a very fine line of incorporating the conquered while not ticking off his own people.

2) Reportedly, he once threw a man out of line because he hadn’t bothered to secure the chin strap on his helm. I pick this one because it tells me a whole lot about how he saw himself as a commander, and what he expected of his men (and why he tended to consistently win).

On the surface, his reaction seems almost petty. It’s precisely the sort of mistake students whine about when professors ding them for it. It’s just a chin strap! I’d have tightened it before I went into battle! (It’s just a few typos; you knew what I meant! Or, Why does everything in the bibliography have to be exactly matching in style? Who cares? What a stupid thing to obsess about!) These objections are all of a piece. First, they’re lazy, and second, they indicate a disconcern with details. In battle, such disconcern can get a person killed. And on a larger scale, for a general, such disconcern loses battles.

One of the striking aspects of Alexander’s military operations was just how well his logistics worked. Consistently. We hear little about them precisely because they rarely fail. Food and water was there when they needed it, as were arrow replacements, wood to repair the spears, wool and leather for clothes and shoes, canvas for tents, etc., etc. All those little niggling (boring) details. If these are missing, soldiers become upset (and don’t fight well). Starting with Philip, the Macedonian military was a well-oiled machine. That’s WHY Gedrosia was such a shock: the logistics collapsed. Contra some historians, he did not do it to “punish” his men, nor to best Cyrus.* He had a sound reason—to scout a trade route.

Alexander understood that details matter. It starts with a loose chinstrap. (Or an unplanned-for storm and rebellion in his rear.) Everything else can unravel from that.

3) Alexander sends Hephaistion a little dish of small fish (probably smelts). He also helps an officer secure the lady of his dreams. And writes another on assignment (away from the army) that a mutual friend is recovering from an illness. While technically three “moments,” these are all of a piece. Alexander knows his men, and is concerned not only for their physical well-being, but also their mental state: that they’re happy. Granted, these are all elite officers, but it suggests he’s paying attention to people. I’ve always assumed he sent Hephaistion the fish because they were his friend’s favorite, and/or they were a special treat and he wanted to share. That he didn’t punish an officer for going AWOL to chase the mistress he wanted but offered advice, and even assistance, on how to court and secure her suggests the same care.

I don’t want to take away from what appears to be his serious anger management problems(!), but little details like those above strike me as the likeable side of Alexander—why his men were so devoted to him.

4) Then we have the encounter with Timokleia after the siege of Thebes. While probably a bit too precious to have occurred exactly as related, I think it may still hold a kernel of truth.

Alexander had a reputation of chivalry towards his (highborn) female captives. If some of that was likely either propaganda from his own time or philhellenic whitewashing later by Second Sophistic authors such as Plutarch (and Arrian), poor treatment of women is not something we hear attributed to him.

Ergo, while the meeting was probably doctored for a moral tail, he may well have freed Timokleia as an act of clemency to put a better face on a shocking destruction he knew wouldn’t sit well with the rest of Greece—who he both wanted to cow yet earn support from. (A difficult balancing act.) Also, if Timokleia hadn’t been high-born, she’d probably have been hauled off to one of the prisoner cages with little fanfare.

Nonetheless, I find his actions surprising given the casual misogyny of his era. If we can take the bare bones of the story as true, and it’s not all invented, Timokleia was raped as a matter of course during the sacking of Thebes, then managed to trick her rapist and kill him by pushing him down a well and dropping rocks on him. I assume this happened when his men weren’t there, but they found out soon enough and hauled her in front of Alexander to be punished for killing an officer. To the surprise of all, Alexander decided the man had earned it and freed Timokleia. One might be inclined to call this overly sentimental, but….

There’s a similar story that occurred much later in the Levant, when two of Parmenion’s men seduced/(raped?) the mistresses/wives of some mercenaries. Alexander instructed Parmenion to kill the Macedonians if they were found to be guilty.

In both cases, we have an affront against (respectable) women. In the latter case, Alexander was (no doubt) working to avoid conflict between hired soldiers and his own men, who—in typical Greek fashion—would have looked down on mercenaries as a matter of course. Some sort of conflict between Macedonians and Greek mercenaries up in Thrace had almost got Alexander’s father killed. Alexander saved him. No doubt that was on Alexander’s mind here.

Yet what both events illuminate is a willingness on Alexander’s part to punish his own men for affronts to honor/timē that involved women. Yes, this is clearly about discipline. But it also shows an unusual sensitivity to sex crimes in warfare: actions that would normally fall under the excuse of “boys will be boys” (especially when their blood is up).

I doubt he’d have felt the same about slaves or prostitutes; he was still a product of his time. Yet without overlooking his violence—sometimes extreme (the genocide of the Branchidai, for instance)—I find his reaction in these cases to be evidence of an atypical sympathy for women that I’d like to think isn’t wholly an invention of later Roman authors. And just might show the influence of his mother and sisters.

5) Last… the Boukephalas story…because who doesn’t love a good “a boy and his horse” tale? Obviously the Plutarchian version is tweaked to reflect that author’s later concern to contrast the Macedonian “barbarian” Philip with the properly Hellenized Alexander. Ignore the editorializing remarks, especially the “find a kingdom big enough for you” nonsense.

But the bare bones of the story seem likely: unmanageable horse, cocky kid, bet with dad, gotcha moment. You can imagine this was an anecdote Alexander retold a time or three, or twenty.

——

* His attempts to copy Cyrus may be imposition by later writers. In his own day, he may have cared more about the first Darius, for reasons Jenn Finn is going to explain in a forthcoming, very good article on the burning of Thebes and Persepolis.

#asks #Top Five Alexander the Great moments #Alexander the Great #Hephaistion #Hephaestion #Timoclea #Timoklea #Boukephalas #Bucephalas #Gedrosian Desert #ancient military logistics #Macedonian army #Alexander's logistics #Classics #ancient history #campaigns of Alexander the Great #tagamemnon

[dragonrider9905]

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

@photogirl894 Morgan, this is for you!!!! ❤️ I really hope you like it!!!!

Summery: Being a Jedi in the rise of the Empire is difficult. First because an old friend has become an enemy and second, you are in love with the Sergeant of Clone Force 99,.

But perhaps where you lack words, a song can change everything and say what is in your heart?

Warnings: Talk of blood; arguments; each thinks the other is dead but they're not.

Notes: I wish I wrote the reprisal to Dancing and the Dreaming but I did not; I attached the YouTube link to the song. The artist is amazing 😭 please check it out!!!!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46476934

Just start the story, right? Here you go XD

“What on earth are you thinking?”

You never argued with Hunter in all the time you’d served as the Batch’s general nor while on the run with them. You’d had disagreements but never arguments, so this sudden outburst caught you off guard. You stood up taller and straighter to exude an air of confidence, lifting your chin and setting your jaw. Your hand immediately went to the hilt of your saber, feeling the gold trimmings and etchings for comfort. Your blade was unique…yellow in color and you wanted the hilt to display that, even if it did call attention to itself. It was black but traced with gold designs of your choice …ironically, this was your only tell of uncomfort. He often picked up on it, but you noticed he didn’t now. He was too busy reprimanding you. 

You sighed. “Hunter…”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t talk, or don’t go through with it.”

“Both!”

You scowled and crossed your arms over your chest. 

Hunter paced about like a wild animal being pinned down, a look of desperation in his eye you’ve never seen before. 

“She’s coming for me, Hunter. I have to do this to protect you. To protect Omega!”

“She’ll kill you!”

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence in my skill.” 

“This has nothing to do with your skill and you know it. It isn’t a matter of ‘can’. Would you be able to kill her?”

You opened and shut your mouth a few times, trying to formulate an answer. He didn’t know what you had planned (he’d die the moment you told him for sure, so you kept it to yourself. By the way he was acting though, you wondered if he’d read your mind. You hoped he hadn’t acquired that skill. You’d be screwed.) 

You had to say something to placate Hunter, but you didn’t know what. Yelena, the Inquisitor who was after you, was a long time friend from the Temple. You couldn’t contradict the multiple late night conversations you had with Hunter, telling him about how close you were, and crying over the loss of her to the dark side. You even admitted once you wouldn’t be able to do it if you had to. You were stronger in saber skills but her connection to the Force was uncannily strong, and quite frankly, frightening. 

“That is beside the point.”

“It is ENTIRELY the point!” He threw his hands up in the air and turned from you, grasping the back of the pilot's chair. 

“Hunter…” 

Your voice was soft but it faltered. You reached out but stopped, uncertainty taking over. You’d loved this man for some time, but you never had the courage to tell him. You’d faced battle droids, sith and death itself head on with a heart of steel, but saying those three words terrified you. You were sure he didn’t feel the same. He couldn’t possibly. You wanted to believe that this outburst could have meant that he cared for you but it couldn’t. You didn’t know why exactly he was acting like this, but you knew it wasn’t that. You were his general, and only ever just his general. It was his job to look after you and old habits die hard.

His shoulder’s drooped. 

“Ner ka’ra…”

Your head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised. You didn’t know that phrase. You never heard him say it before.

“I…we can’t lose you too. Please. Don’t.”

You blinked, and he was in front of you, towering over you, eyes boring into yours. His hands had come to be on your upper arms. His grip didn’t hurt, rather offered a sort of comfort and support. You could feel the vibration of every fiber of his being begging you to stay, an unspoken desperation.

You started to chew your lip and he remained silent, seeing he was getting through to you. You didn’t need to use the Force to know his breathing was heavy and uneven, or to feel the slight shake of his ever steady hand.

But what you did feel from him…anger, confusion, fear and something else? Something he was hiding…

You were going to step into his arms, to give him a reassuring hug when an image appeared before your eyes. You gasped and nearly fell to the floor. 

In the mud of your mind, you thought you could hear Hunter calling your name. It echoed in the vast nothing that encompassed your head. Your legs started to give out and the grip on your arms started to dig. You realized you were falling.  

You were heaving for breath. 

Yelena was sending you a message: Come, or Hunter would pay the price. 

Resolve set in, unlike before. Your spine straightened and you set your jaw, letting your eyes bore into his.

“No, Hunter. I’m leaving. I have to. Please…know it is for the best because…I care. Tell the others I said goodbye…and that I love you all, will you?” 

And you were gone. Somehow you released yourself from his grip. Somehow you slipped away from him.

The feeling of you remained. A slight tingling causing his fingers to twitch. Hunter’s mind drifted to the first time…well, the only time he ever danced with you. 

Notes came from the musicians' old instruments in the town square. A song long forgotten by many civilizations rang out and danced between the walls and the old cobblestone streets. Your heart nearly jumped in your throat from the giddy excitement. A buzz traveling from your brain to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“I can’t believe they know this song! They know it!” 

You clamped your hands over your heart, shutting your eyes, swaying to the music and humming along the opening notes. 

“It’s an old song from my home,” you smiled nostalgically, sighing into the land of memory.

The peace and happiness that settled over you was not lost on Hunter and he was glad Omega had requested the musicians to play it. He smiled, watching you, taking the picture of you in. It was some sort of holiday in town and everyone was in a giving mood. Wrecker was off somewhere eating food, Tech and Echo doing who knows what, while you, Hunter and Omega went exploring about town. 

You had a wreath of flowers in your hair, little blue ones he thought you called “forget-me-nots.” They were your favorite, you’d told him that while gazing at the crown. The flower stall owner must have overheard you, because he gave them to you for free. Hunter was glad he did…you looked beautiful. The blues complimented the purple garments you wore. Ugh, he was staring and he had to stop! But it was keeping his mind off the fact he was trembling when he placed the crown on your head himself…

Omega heard you humming this tune one day and asked what it was called. “For the Dancing and the Dreaming.” you replied. “Someday, I’ll teach you the dance to the song. Right now, we gotta finish these repairs, ok kiddo? We can learn the words as we go, so long as Tech doesn’t mind the noise.” 

Hunter hardly considered it noise. Your voice was one of the most lovely things he’d heard in a while *coughs, correction, ever*. Hearing you and Omega sing and laugh quickly became his favorite sound in all the galaxy. The harmonies you two created were…not as pleasant, at first. But the more the two of you sang and learned from each other, the better you got. They tried (and succeeded on a few occasions) to get Hunter to sing along with them. His deep baritone voice added something special to the music, or at least that is what you said, and he pretended like he believed you. 

Apparently Omega hadn’t forgotten your promise to learn the dance.

Omega praddled up to your side, something curious in her eyes…Hunter had seen this kind of mischief before. What did Omega have up her sleeve?

She called out your name in a sing-song voice. “Won’t you pleeeease show us the dance! Please!”

You laughed, hardly needing the encouragement. 

“Alright. But I’ll need a partner.” 

You smiled sweetly at the girl, expecting her to volunteer. She put on a troubled face; Hunter knew her well enough to know it was staged. Though you knew her well, you didn’t have the talent of seeing through some of her acting yet. 

“I…I think I should watch first. I’ve never danced before. Why don’t you dance with Hunter?!”

Ah, so that is what she was up to.

“Oh, ok.” You shifted a little uncomfortably. You coughed and cleared your throat, extending your hand to him with a tremor. “H-hunter, would you like to dance?”

What was he going to say? No?

“Sure, why not?” He shrugged, trying to play off the awkwardness. He cleared his own throat and took your hand, following you to the center of the town square (or circle, in this case). Omega giggled and followed close behind, keeping enough of a distance not to ‘ruin the magic’. 

“It’s sort of a proposal song.” You coughed again. “It goes back and forth between the lovers…and so does the dance, here it goes like this.” 

It would be a little difficult to start in the middle of the song but you thought you could make it work. You raised your hand, trying to explain the steps, getting Hunter to do the same. He placed his palm against yours. You took a deep breath in and your heart beat fast. You looked into his eyes and got lost. You froze, forgetting the steps you had just taught him. He was looking at you too, and you wondered what he was thinking. 

The music jarred and stopped suddenly, waking you up from your daydream. You looked up, surprised at the musicians. The old man with the violin smiled knowingly at you and nodded, restarting the song.

Your voice rang out in a clear, perfect tone. Though you started to draw a crowd, it only felt like it was the two of you. Your vision tunneled on him, creating a cloud around everyone else. 

There was nothing but the two of you. No sound other than the music and your breathing and heart beats. No sight except the one in front of you. No feeling beyond your partner. 

You started to turn, and Hunter followed, anticipating your moves and catching your cues. You missed Omega’s satisfied, adoring eyes at how well her plan had worked. 

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne'er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you will marry me

No scorching sun

Nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey

If you will promise me your heart

And love me for eternity”

Hunter made up his mind to follow you. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. There was no question. 

He never thought about anything less.

— — —

The rocky, mountainous planet was kind of intimidating…you had to watch your step otherwise you could fall into a rocky canyon, a muddy ravine, or into deep, unending nothingness. The skies were gray like the world of rock around you, a storm threatening every minute. A rustling sound came from behind you. You spun around to find not your failed friend, now enemy but…

“Hunter, what are you doing here?” 

“I’m not letting you face her alone.”

“She’s a master manipulator! Do you know what she’s capable of when she abuses the force! She could paralyze you or worse! She can instantly spot a weakness and know how to exploit it.”

“I can’t let her hurt you.”

“Hunter…”

“Ahhhh, look who finally decided to show up. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

A voice you knew so well. Once full of sun and light now dark and foreboding. You knew it but didn’t recognize it. 

“Yelena.” 

“Took you long enough.” She crossed her arms, annoyed. “Surprised you brought the boyfriend considering my offer.”

“Boyfriend?” Hunter was taken aback. Yelena smirked at the new revelation. 

“Yes. Don’t tell me she’s never told you how she feels about you. She had feelings for you during the Clone War…just imagine how it’s grown.”

You felt your face burn a deep red. You felt Hunter look at you more than you saw it. You pointedly ignored it. 

“I won’t join you. I can’t join you.”

Yelena shrugged. “Hm, should we let the man have a say? After all, it seems you’ve been keeping things from him. Here’s the deal, good looking—“

You felt yourself die on the inside. Yelena swayed on her hip, she knew the effect she was having on you.

“I told Miss Perfect Jedi, here, she could either join me…or I’d rip her apart…” Yelena stepped forward; you extended your hand protectively in front of Hunter, moving to take the front. She still wasn’t looking at you though, she was addressing Hunter with a cruel gleam in her eye.

“Know how I’d do that?” Her smile was cold, and reveling in the ice. “By hurting you, precious.”

Hunter was stunned. From what he remembered of  Yelena was…she never bluffed. She always threatened truths…which made her promises terrifying…if she was threatening this…that meant?

He was frozen in his spot. He should have heard the blade ignited. He should have seen the glow of promised blood. He should have moved. But he didn’t, until it was too late. He felt an invisible grip hold him, invading his mind.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move.

Nothing.

“Yelena stop! This isn’t you! You’re hurting, don’t let that destroy you!”

“You could have the same power. Join me!”

“Love will always be more powerful than hate. It takes more strength than to yield. Only the weak succumb.” 

Anger crossed Yelena’s face…a boiling anger, and Hunter knew you’d crossed a line. She came forward, saber raised. 

Hunter watched helpless as you placed yourself between Yelena and himself. 

NO.

He watched as you embraced the red blade, saber going clean through you. The red blade entering and leaving your body.

Why would you do that for him? 

Why?

His lungs refused to let in air. The tips of his fingers turned cold and his hands went numb. He knew he was clenching his fists but he couldn’t feel it.

He watched as you gasped, saw the single tear leave your eye, heard as an exhale of finality left your lungs as your body crumbled to the ground. 

“My dear, that wasn’t very smart. Now you’re dying and he’s going to pay the price like I warned you he would.”

Yelena kicked you and Hunter saw your body slacken. 

His muscles were tense and exhausted themselves from trying to move, trying to get to you. Anger flooded his veins like lava. 

“Do you know why she always planned on taking the blade? You’re wondering why she didn’t just fight me off with her superior skills? Oh you didn’t know that; then let me tell you…Because she thought she could save me. Seems like she thought that would save you too. Looks like no one here is getting saved.” She grabbed the bandanna off his head. Letting it fall in place.

“Say goodbye, she’ll die before you reach the top…if you ever do. Personally, I’m rooting for your survival. Won’t that make the future interesting?”

With that, Yelena dropped him over the side of the cliff.

He free fell.

Down.

Down. 

Crash. 

All was black. 

Last thing he remembered was seeing you laugh and how much he wanted to hear that again. All he wanted was to hold you. If he couldn’t in this life, maybe you could dance in his dream….or together again in the next.

My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I've no need of mighty deeds

When I feel your arms around me

But I would bring you rings of gold

I'd even sing you poetry��

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me

I have no use for rings of gold

I care not for your poetry

I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me

To love and kiss, to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life's sorrows and delights

I'll keep your laugh inside me

Startled, Hunter jolted awake. Pain flashed across his body but he wasn’t as hurt as he should’ve been. Looking around, he saw he broke through layers of rock and landed on a cushioned area. 

Thank the Force. 

His relief was short-lived however. How long had he been asleep? Were you still alive? How long did you have?

Would you be laying there pale and motionless, waiting expectedly for him to come to you though he never came? His stomach lurched. It was near sunset…you couldn’t have survived this long.

Hanging his head, the tracker felt lost for the first time.

— — —

You woke up alone. 

Abandoned. 

You were right. Yelena couldn’t kill you either. You knew she didn’t have it in her. Maybe your act did some good yet. If only Hunter…wait. Hunter! You felt the earth around you, trying to evoke the memory of what happened there from the dirt. 

You wished you hadn’t. Wanting to scream, a sob came out instead. Tears blurred your vision but in the mixing of colors, and swirling surrounding…red caught your eye.

Dragging yourself over to the spot where Hunter’s bandanna lay abandoned on the ground, you reached out and gently picked it up, bringing it to your face. Tenderly, you ran your fingers along the emblem, feeling the familiar fabric. Bringing it to your lips briefly, a new resolve filled you. You had to get up. Find the body. Honor him one last time.

You gasped and dragged yourself up, hands pinned to the wounds at your side. 

No.

He was gone.

The sobs came, and you didn’t hinder the tears as they fell shamelessly from your eyes down your cheeks. Your side burned as if the saber was still inside you, twisting itself in circles, but that was nothing compared to the heaviness you felt in your heart. Your grief was overwhelming and threatened to subject you…but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t want it. You’d live for him. It was your fault he was gone. You couldn’t give up when he sacrificed everything for you. An Inquisitor once boasted to you what hate could do for the will to live. Well, he had nothing on love.

The wound looked bad, but you bound it. You could beat this yet. You had to. You had to find Hunter, even if his spirit was one with the Force.

Unexpectedly, something pricked your brain…a happy memory turned bittersweet. A memory in the form of a song…you couldn’t sing that one now, but you could sing something in his honor. 

Slowly the words came to you, and in as steady of a voice you could muster, you let the old melody carry the new words. Words you hoped conveyed to him what you felt. 

Strain started to seep into the words and when you reached the apex of the song, all the sadness, anger, and bitterness was released in a word. You fell to your knees, and looked to the sky, letting the last note soar like you knew his spirit would.

More tears came but quietly, and a peace of resignation which somehow, somewhere, you knew was from him, settled in your heart. 

— — — 

My dearest one my darling dear

He knew that voice…. And that tune. It was yours. You were singing your song. He’d know it anywhere. How often had he gone over it in his head since the day you sang it?

Wait…

It was and it wasn’t. It sounded the same but the words were different…it felt different. 

The tune seemed to surround him like a shroud. Grasping his heart. Squeezing it tight. Threatening to suffocate him where he laid.

It wasn’t fair…that you were killed. Your body lying motionless somewhere above him. He should be there crading you right now. Holding you. Reassuring you in your last breaths everything was going to be alright, only to see your eyebrow of disbelief and slight annoyance as you told him not to lie to you. He’d find some way to stop the blood; some way to keep you alive…or bring you back.

 He should have told you long ago how he felt about you. About how you were his dream. His soulmate. The only dance he wanted to dance. He wanted to crown you again like he once did with the flowers you liked best (how appropriately named now!) And now it was too late.

Your voice seemed to echo what was in his heart. But there was something about it that was so strange. Perhaps It was because he never heard you more sorrowful or angry than he ever remembered. 

It weighed on him; his heart threatening to break free from its cage with its violence. The heaviness that sunk in.

My mighty one has fallen

Images of Hunter laughing, smiling filled his mind. Unbidden, the flash of a vibroblade slashing countless enemies in smooth motions. The light of a yellow saber you loved that he used once when you both were pinned down and you tossed it to him in exchanges. The classic stance of a leader he always took, once on purpose, now out of habit.  

The children weep for their protector

Flashes of the Batch flashed before his eyes. Omega inconsolable. Wrecker no better. The sorrow and rage he knew so well in Crosshair that he abated whenever he could. Tech mumbling, lost. Echo kneeling, shoulders dropped, hands gripping his head wondering what he could have done better. 

The loved ones will be praying

He saw…you. For the first time ever with real grief and anger, yet something so soft he could have thought you loved him. You gripped at the wound in your side while your hand clutched at something else. He tried to focus on what he was seeing, zeroing in on your hand. You brought it up to your chest…gripping it like it was your lifeline, the only thing keeping you grounded to reality. 

The unmistakable strip of red fabric, painted with a skull. 

So we part again my love

He heard your real voice, strong and confident as ever, and realized it wasn’t in his head. Your voice rose above everything and rang out so clearly. He didn’t understand how it was possible but the realization hit Hunter that he was seeing your thoughts and hearing you as if you were one. Your voice was raw and agonized in pain as you called out. He resolved he’d get back to you at any cost. 

My darling one

As he climbed, dancing figures floated in his vision, a ghost of beauty; the phantom feeling of your hand on his haunted his mind. An invisible hand guiding him to the top, telling you where to place his grip safely. 

More memories came…strangely enough, strengthening him and not hindering. 

Late nights on the Marauder…special innocent moments he dared not dwell upon as such, in case you didn’t feel for him the way he felt for you. Slight touches of hand, secret knowing looks, late night conversations.

And so the gods above will bless thee…

A vision of his family happy, all together once more, as they should be, but in a place he did not know, yet felt like home. Crosshair pretending to be annoyed with a laughing Wrecker—though the traces of a smile could be seen, Tech rambling off some facts with a smile, Echo crossing his arms and making a sassing remark, Omega playing with all the friends she’s ever made and a few he didn’t even know. 

You and him.

Holding hands and beholding the family before them. 

So the song ended…As the high notes lingered in the air, voice carried softly in the gentle breeze, Hunter almost reached the top.

The song stopped but the music echoed from stone to stone and brick to brick as the musicians let the tune linger a little longer, hearts not ready to completely give up the melody. 

Your voice was gone. Your breath was gone, though you were driving it in heaves. Hunter was staring at you, and you at him. It was only the two of you. You, standing, blushing like a rose, questioning, uncertain. Him doing the same.

The chasm between you so far, yet only an arm’s reach away. Something so easily breached, yet near impossible to attain.

The final notes lingered, vibrato on the violin, a voice of the flute.

Hunter looked at you like he never did before, and your heart, for the first time began to hope, maybe, you could have a future. Perhaps he felt the same.

You had your eyes closed, trying to meditate. The air cooled and was a salve for your burning heart. It nipped at your nose and numbed your hands already, resting motionless on your thighs. You didn’t know how long you were kneeling there, still and silent, but your muscles felt stiff and unyielding. You knew you had to go, but you couldn’t. Not yet. You wanted to find him but something told you to stay a little longer yet. You didn’t know why, but you trusted anyway. 

Somewhere, a bird started singing its farewell to the day. A lone call, begging it’s partner to assure it, it was still there and would return to it soon. 

The single tune soon turned into a duet, and a smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t help but feel everything would be ok.

The tune was beautiful, one you never heard before. You wondered if it was a mating song or perhaps these two in such perfect harmony knew each other so well they completed each other? 

In the cacophony of notes, you heard your name. 

Your eyes jolted open and you tripped over yourself.

The deep, husky voice couldn’t be real, could it? It was hard to tell because tears clouded your vision once more.

“Hunter? You’re alive! Hunter?!” You tried to get up, gasping at the pain you felt in your rush. Hunter was by your side in an instant. He fell to his knees, embracing you. All you could hear was your name repeated over and over with sobs in between loving gibberish coming from both of you. 

In a moment of silence, Hunter brought his forehead to yours, a smile tugging at his lips. He chuckled airily, a tear falling from his eyes.

“I thought I lost you…but then, your song…it gave me the strength to climb and find you.”

“You heard it?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes were closed contently, just basking in the feeling of you being there. His hand cradled your face, thumb gracefully stroking your cheek. You brought your hand up to his, entwining his fingers with your own. Bringing your clasped hands down to your heart, you brought your other behind his neck.

Seeking silent permission, looking into his eyes, you saw all your love reflected back at you. His gray eyes started to match yours, melting to brown and glowing with the golden sun finally defeating the storm. 

Hunter lowered his voice, lips next to your ear. It was nearly a whisper; his voice dry and wavering in the tumultuous emotion he was feeling. Yet despite that, it was the most beautiful you’d ever heard him sing. 

No scorching sun

Nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey

If you will promise me your heart

And love. And love me for eternity”

He didn’t have a wreath of flowers, but he did the next best thing. 

Untangling the cloth from your hands, he tied the red ribbon around your head, placing a gentle kiss on your crown.

It was your turn to huff. Your throat swollen with tears, yet your voice found a way.

My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I've no need of mighty deeds

When I feel your arms around me

Hunter smiled, then wrapped his arms around you. You laughed fully now and giggled when he lifted you. 

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me

You laid your head on his chest, all anxiety and pain replaced with peace and love..

I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me

He wasn’t going to let you have the last word. 

I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne'er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you will marry me!

If you…..would marry me.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RdtQqWHLWw  song by Emma Amaya

#hunter x fem!reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter #the bad batch #star wars the clone wars #sw tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #clone force 99 #reader insert #fluff and angst #angst and fluff #angst with a happy ending #romantic fluff #unrequited love #Not really unrequited love

[mixelation]

reborn au; itachi pov ->

NOTE: my headcanon is that people didn't immediately connect the dots between naruto and his parents in part because kushina actively hid she was pregnant. i forget the exact wording, but biwako tells kushina off for talking to mikoto in a way that implies kushina was meant to keep her pregnancy on the down low. so my hc is that once the baby bump was too big to hide with clothing, kushina started limiting public appearances. so there's a line in here where she says she disappeared bc the pregnancy left her bedridden-- that's her cover up story

(no proofreading we die like men)

***

Itachi was four when his father brought him to a battlefield. 

He remembered this happening, the first time around. It was one of his earliest memories. This time around, he was just starting to become aware of himself. The entire lifetime shoved into his little head had been confusing and upsetting, and his first few years of life had felt like a blur. 

But now he knew with vivid clarity who he was. He was Uchiha Itachi, murderer, criminal, and traitor, and he did not want to go. But he also did not know how to make his father stop. 

“I don’t like this,” he repeated again and again. “I want to go back.”

“That’s good,” his father told him, his grip tight on his arm. “You’re not supposed to like this.”

Itachi stared down at a man gasping at his feet, and he remembered his father lying dead on their floor. He remembered his mother, his auntie, his cousin… 

The dying shinobi made a pathetic attempt to gouge a kunai into Itachi's tiny leg, and he stepped back. The man’s breath was a horrible rattling, and he was going to die if he didn’t get proper medical attention soon. No help was coming for him. It would be more merciful if Itachi killed him. 

I think I hate him, Itachi thought of Fugaku. He bent to pick up the dying man’s kunai. Fugaku didn’t even wince as Itachi dug the blade into the man’s neck. Quick and painless. 

Fugaku looked… almost approving. 

“War forces us to make hard choices. Sometimes impossible choices,” he said. “Remember that.”

Perversely, Itachi felt the urge to laugh. 

Maybe he hates me, he thought. 

xXx

Itachi hated the Academy. He hated the chatter of other children, their looks of awe and jealousy and fear in turns, and he hated the way teachers looked at him. He thought about playing at being average, at grasping for the childhood he never had. But every conversation he had with a child annoyed him, and every patronizing look from a teacher made his eye tick just a little more. 

“You did what?” laughed Shisui, the only child Itachi could stand. “Genjutsu? Itachi, they’re going to notice.”

Shisui was deep in the woods, practicing with kunai. Shisui was three years older than Itachi and also still in the Academy, but Shisui had permission to skip lectures for personal training. Itachi did not. Instead, he had placed an illusion on his teacher and all his classmates to think he was still there. 

“They won’t notice,” he told Shisui. “They never do.”

“Well, whatever,” Shisui replied. “You can practice with me, but I’m not gonna bail you out if you get caught.”

Itachi knew this was a lie. Shisui would lie for him. He lied to Itachi's parents for him all the time. 

This Shisui was not old enough to dole out the comforting pieces of wisdom of Itachi’s old life. But he was clever and mature enough to hold a real conversation, and he never looked at Itachi like everyone else did. His smile always cheered him up, and he occasionally told a joke bad enough to get Itachi to crack a smile. 

Shisui threw more kunai, and Itachi knocked them out of the air with shuriken. Shisui frowned and tried a more complicated throw. Itachi purposefully missed one of the kunai, just to let him see how off his aim was with this throw. 

Shisui groaned. 

“You don’t have to look so happy,” he chided, stepping forward to pry the stray kunai out of the tree bark. It wasn’t anywhere close to the target. 

“It’s not that,” Itachi replied. He hesitated. “I got some good news this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Shisui asked, flipping the kunai in his hand with a thoughtful expression on his face. Trying to recalculate what had gone wrong with his throw, no doubt. 

Itachi was sure he wasn’t meant to share this secret, but also it was burning its way through his heart. 

“I’m going to be a big brother,” he said. 

Shisui blinked, his face filled with surprise. Then a broad grin spread across it. 

“That’s awesome, cuz. Congratulations.”

Shisui shoved the kunai back into his weapons pack before throwing his arms around Itachi. Itachi leaned into the hug, gripping Shisui back tighter than he needed to. Every hug terrified him with the thought that it could be his last. 

He’d been terrified that Sasuke somehow wouldn’t exist in this timeline, that maybe his even stranger personality would poison his parents for more children, or that any minor change in his actions might cause some other younger sibling to be conceived at a different time. But his mother’s projected due date was close to Sasuke’s birthday. Itachi was now more terrified that Sasuke would exist, and then Itachi would lose him anyway. 

xXx

Sasuke’s birth was almost exactly how Itachi remembered it. The date and time were the same. The squashed little baby face was the same. The weight of him in Itachi’s arms was the same.

My little brother, Itachi thought, Sasuke cradled to his chest. So you made it too. 

Itachi’s parents let him take two days and a weekend off of school to be with his new brother. He asked to hold Sasuke whenever he could. On the Monday he was meant to go back to school, he went to the Hokage.  

Itachi barely remembered Namikaze Minato. But he’d gathered his family was friends with him somehow, and he used this to get into his office. 

“Early graduation…?” Minato looked exhausted. Itachi did not remember this from his previous life’s memories, but then again those memories were the faint ones of a true child. “Itachi, you're a very talented student, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Minato lectured him about social bonds and having time to grow. Itachi pointed out he didn’t have friends and wasn’t sure he could make them, when he was intellectually on a much higher level than other children. For some reason, Minato didn’t like this argument. 

“I want to have more time with my new brother,” Itachi admitted. 

“Being a genin is busy work,” Minato warned him. 

“I know,” Itachi replied, “but I could have a more flexible schedule, and eventually I’ll be able to pick my own missions.”

Minato’s lips thinned, unconvinced. Itachi considered genjutsu. But he wasn’t sure how resistant the Hokage would be, and if he didn’t do it flawlessly, he absolutely wouldn’t be getting anything he wanted out of him ever again. 

“I’m just so bored,” Itachi tried, mimicking the way Shisui would complain. It sounded foreign and bizarre on his tongue, but it did make Minato’s lips quirk up. 

“I’ll think about it,” Minato allowed.

Three weeks and two interviews with the headmaster to test his skills later, Itachi was a genin after only four months at the Academy.

“That’s my son,” Fugaku told him, and his mother cooked all his favorite foods for dinner with a placid smile on her face, like she also wouldn’t burn the village down and tear her family apart. Itachi tried not to vomit. 

For Sasuke. 

xXx

Itachi did not care about breaking records. He did not care about accolades or prestige. He did not care about his new genin team or saving the Hokage’s soon to be cut short life. He only cared about Sasuke. 

And so, as far as he could see, he had a choice come October tenth. He could attempt to interfere with Obito when he came to attack Konoha with the Kyuubi, or he could stay by Sasuke’s side. 

Itachi knew he could not take Obito as he was. Itachi was brilliant for his age and could take on most adult shinobi, but his chakra reserves were low and his physical prowess was limited by his age. He could not engage Obito in combat or take control of the Kyuubi with his own sharingan. He could not do what the Hokage was about to die trying to do. 

He considered spying or trying to gather new information. But he already knew a great many things about the man pretending to be Uchiha Obito, and he would not risk Sasuke’s life by abandoning him. He was an officially recognized shinobi now, even if he was only six and only a genin. He would have access to some avenues of shinobi gossip and records he hadn’t had in the past, and when he inevitably flew through the ranks, he’d get more.

On the night of the Kyuubi attack, Itachi made sure to stay home, with baby Sasuke. 

Curiously, nothing happened. 

Nothing very important continued to happen for several weeks. It bent Itachi out of shape, not knowing what was happening. He snapped at his teammates and skipped practices to hover over Sasuke’s crib. How could he defend Sasuke from danger, if he didn’t know where danger was coming from?

His Jounin sensei reported him as unstable, paranoid, and uncooperative. Whatever. 

And then one day he came home to find the Hokage and his wife in his living room. 

“Our babies are going to be best friends, you know!” the Hokage’s wife was yelling. Mikoto had her hand over her face to hide a giggle. They’d propped the babies against each other to sit up for a photo, like balancing two cards to make a house. 

Minato was sitting on the couch with the camera in his hands. Fugaku sat at the other end, looking less stern than usual.  

“Oh my gosh, Itachi-kun!” Kushina yelled, whipping around as he stepped into the room. “You get in the photo too!”

Itachi sat dumbly while Kushina piled babies onto him. He had not planned for this at all.

#reborn au #my writing

[uvobreakmylegs]

Chains and Flesh

part 2 of the slasher!Franklin story

Part 1

🎃Happy Halloween🎃

Warnings: fem!reader, captivity, graphic depictions of violence, gore, death, smut, dubcon, spanking

Word count: 7.7k

How long you were kept down there you weren't sure. Your days started when you woke up and then ended when you fell into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep.

You were kept chained up like an animal at all times, and while the chain's moderate length meant you could get up and walk around a little, it became harder to do that as time passed, as your only form of nourishment were the bottles of water Franklin left for you. So while you remained alive, you were becoming weaker by the day, which forced you to stop moving around so much so you could conserve energy.

You sat chained up to that table near the door, slowly withering away while you waited for him to carry out whatever it was he'd planned for you.

But whenever Franklin would come in to continue his sick work, more often than not he didn't acknowledge you.

He'd walk by you, sometimes carrying a body that he'd hang on a newly emptied meat hook, other times leaving with the pieces he'd cut from one of the bodies within the room. You didn't know what he was doing with them. For your sake it was better not to know so you wouldn't need to speculate on what he'd do to your remains when you were dead. You didn't want to die knowing he'd turn your skin into a lampshade or eat the meat from your legs or anything like that.

Franklin was keeping quiet about it, and you'd rather it stay that way.

At one point you'd seen him walk by the open door carrying a spike strip like the one you'd run over, and only then did you realize that he was the one who had set that on the road, leaving out a trap to force you to go to him for help. You wondered how often that ploy worked.

Still, nothing else had really happened to you.

He kept you alive as his captive, but that was it. And usually he'd leave the bottled water next to you after you'd fallen asleep. Just enough to make sure you were kept alive.

And during the times when you were on your own in that room, waiting in the dark for him to return, all you thought of was how you could survive this.

Fighting him wasn't an option. By this point you were far too weak, and even if you had tried that on the first day you'd been brought here, it would've been nothing for him to overpower you. The odds of you having any sort of chance of being able to knock out or kill him were slim to none. Even if such an opportunity presented itself, it might not be the smartest choice to take it: you still had no clue where the key to the cuff was. If you managed to incapacitate him and didn't have the key, you were still stuck there. And depending on if you could kill him or not, you'd either starve to death after he had died, or he'd realize what you'd done after he woke back up and retaliate.

So no. Fighting was a bad plan.

But sitting around and waiting for him to be ready for whatever it was he wanted to do to you was equally bad. There were definitely a fair amount of victims that he'd killed, and you didn't want your name to be added to that list.

Without being able to fight him, and without any realistic way you could think of to escape without him knowing, you didn't have a lot of choices. The only thing you could think of was if you could somehow manage to connect with him in some way. That he might see you as another human being and form a friendship of sorts, just enough so he might feel badly about killing you.

But how do you even start up a conversation with someone like that? Especially when he was never interested in talking in the first place?

Your opportunity for that came one time when you'd been awake as he placed the water next to you as he was done for the day, taking out a ring of keys so he could lock up the room after.

Despite not having said anything since the day you were captured, you forced yourself to find your voice and say something.

“Thank you.”

Your words were mumbled and weren't very loud, but Franklin managed to hear you.

He stopped and looked back at you with a confused expression on his face.

It took you a moment to understand his reaction; of course it was weird that you would still be so polite to him. He'd drugged you and planned on cutting you up.

Still, this wasn’t a bad start, was it?

“..... You're an odd one,” he eventually said, “not one ounce of fight since I drugged you. Have you really accepted this so easily?”

You weren't sure what to say to that.

So you didn't say anything, instead looking down at the floor. Franklin walked out shortly after, turning out the light and sliding the door shut.

But his gaze was on you again as he did so, still looking at you strangely.

It must be some sort of achievement to have a serial killer tell you that you're weird.

You couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. And for all of your waiting for an opportunity to speak with him, this had seemed rather wasted since you only spoke two words to him.

Then again, it'd be weird if you wanted to chat with him, right? Something like that would make it far too obvious to him that you were trying to get close to him in order to save yourself.

Did he know what you were trying to do? Based on the way he looked at you, it didn't seem like it.

Maybe this chance to save yourself could work. As long as you didn't go too far in trying to talk to him. You remembered that he'd said you knew when to shut up when he'd been collecting your car; maybe that was already a point in your favor. Maybe as long as you stuck to your instincts and spoke whenever it felt safe, you might reach him.

Maybe.

You heard a woman screaming.

That was what roused you from sleep and had you sitting up, fully alert as you looked towards the doorway.

The screams were coming closer, and you felt a lump form in your throat.

Had he gotten someone in the same way he'd gotten you? Set up that trap on the road so they would need to go to him for help?

But why would she be screaming? Unless she’d been smarter than you and didn't trust him when he had given her the drugged tea, and that had made him drag her down here by force.

You could hear the screaming almost right outside the sliding door, and you pushed yourself into your corner as far as you were able, wanting to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

The door slid open and the lights were flipped on, and once your eyes adjusted, you got a look at Franklin's new victim.

A woman, as you had guessed. One with short hair wearing a pink top and who was currently in the arms of Franklin despite how much she struggled in his grip. She was trying to reach behind her so she could attack his head.

There was a disgruntled look on his face as he carried the woman inside, and he only seemed to get more annoyed as the woman fought for her life, alternating between trying to grab at anything that could be used as a weapon or hitting him in whatever spot she was able to reach.

“Fucking inbred hillbilly piece of shit!” she screamed, repeatedly slamming her fist against the hands that held her, “let me go!”

Franklin continued to march her over to where an empty meat hook hung.

But the sight of that only had her struggling harder and screaming louder, and she desperately thrashed in his grip, doing everything in her power to get away from him.

Meanwhile, all you could do was look on in horror.

You were going to see it.

You were going to see him kill someone.

It was a preview for what would eventually happen to you, and there was nothing you could do to stop any of it.

She continued to struggle when Franklin attempted to turn her around so he could pierce her in the back with the hook, but the way she moved about made him lose his grip slightly, so she ended up falling a bit before he caught her again.

With the new opportunity she was given, she reached out to one of the piercings at the end of his lobes-

And yanked it out.

It was enough to stun him as he instinctively grabbed at his bleeding ear, and the woman managed to slip out of his grip.

She ran past him to the center table, picking up the shears that had been left there and raising them over her head as she faced his back. She intended to stab him and made a move to do so as she brought her arms down.

He turned, slamming his arm into her and pushing her aside, causing the shears to scrape along his back before they fell to the floor.

The woman moved faster than either you or he expected, managing to turn and run towards the door while he reached out for her again, barely escaping his grasp.

She finally spotted you, her eyes growing wide when she saw the way you were cowering next to the table. She stopped before the door, grabbing at you so you could escape with her, only realizing after how you'd been chained up.

The time she'd spent on you was wasted, as Franklin had grabbed a meat hook and was coming after her again.

You both saw the glint of the hook, and you both looked to each other once more.

She threw you in front of him.

There was just enough chain that you managed to hit him, making him stumble over you as you fell to the ground and buying her just a bit more time. You thought you felt his foot connect with your head and your face hit the floor hard.

You heard Franklin swearing as he continued to chase the woman, and after hearing the way he charged down that hallway, you heard her screaming again, this time accompanied by Franklin grunting. Whatever he'd done to her, she was still alive as her screams still echoed in the hallway.

You managed to push yourself up slightly, using one hand to cup at your cheek. The taste of iron in your mouth was obvious, though how exactly you'd managed to get cut from that was unclear.

Then Franklin came back, walking forward and stepping over you while you knelt down, a hand over your head to protect yourself just in case his shoe came into contact with you again. He didn't seem to notice you, and once he was past you, you scrambled back towards the table you were chained to, again trying to make yourself as small as possible.

A glance out the door showed you what had happened to the woman: she was still alive, groaning as she used her hands to pull herself forward down the hall, the meat hook having been impaled in her leg. The way her leg looked made it seem like he'd dragged her by the hook for a bit before he'd come back to get different weapon.

The weapon turned out to be a hammer, as he removed it from the wall and gauged its weight in his hand.

With his back turned towards you, you saw that the woman had managed to injure him when she'd attacked him with the shears as there was a line that ran across his back, the wound deep enough that his shirt was soaking up blood. You hadn't even realized that attack of hers had been partially successful.

Meanwhile, Franklin seemed satisfied with his selection of the hammer.

But when he turned, he caught sight of you.

And he froze.

Franklin stared at you wordlessly with hammer in hand while you felt a line of blood drip from the corner of your mouth. His expression was level, yet there was an intensity in his eyes that you weren't expecting.

Why it was currently being directed at you, you had no idea.

Nor did you have any idea as to why he suddenly put the hammer back in place on the wall and grabbed a different tool.

The chainsaw.

You sat in silence as he pulled it off the wall. He inspected it briefly before making up his mind, holding the tool with both hands as he headed back out into the hall.

He was really going to use that on her.

While she was still alive.

Why?

Was the hammer too merciful? Because if he hit her in just the right way, she'd be dead in an instant? Was it because of the amount of trouble she had given him that made him want to prolong her suffering? How long would he drag it out for?

And how were you going to get through this?

With no one there to hold you and assure you that everything would be alright, you found yourself wrapping your arms around the leg of the table that you had been chained to, holding onto it as though it were a lifeline while you watched the scene that was unfolding in the hall.

You shouldn't be looking. You knew that you shouldn't be looking, but something compelled you to keep your eyes on what was happening. Even though she had tried to use you so she could get away, something within you felt obligated to witness her last moments.

She was sobbing now, having looked behind and seeing Franklin with the chainsaw while she tried to crawl away. He stood above her, putting his foot on her injured leg and keeping her in place, which caused her to cry out louder. There weren't any attempts to attack him this time, only the way she desperately grabbed at the floor in front of her, still trying to claw her way to freedom.

Franklin revved the chainsaw.

That sparked new terror in her, and she began to beg for her life while she tried to shield her head with one of her arms.

That arm was what went first as the chainsaw cut into the meat and bone.

Within a few moments it was laying on the floor next to her head, her fingers still twitching while she screamed at the loss of her arm as she looked at the bloody stump. Franklin continued his work, taking the chainsaw to the other arm and repeating the action.

Her death couldn't have lasted all that long. People aren't built to survive having a chainsaw being cut into them repeatedly. In all likelihood she died after losing the second arm, either from the blood loss or the shock. Yet when he began to carve into the meat of her back, you swore you could still hear her screaming as the blood gushed out of her and sprayed onto him.

The chainsaw echoed alongside those screams within the confines of the hall, ripping up her body and flinging blood and bits of flesh and muscle everywhere, splattering onto the floor, walls and ceiling.

However long those moments truly lasted, it felt like an eternity to you as you sat there and watched as the hall began to fill up with blood, a puddle that expanded around the two of them, growing larger and traveling in the direction of the room you were in.

She was dead by this point. No person could survive losing that much blood.

But you swore you could still hear her voice.

Her screams finally stopped in your ears when Franklin stopped, turning off the chainsaw as he breathed heavily, looking down at what he had reduced that woman to. You were trying not to look at her, instead keeping your gaze on his back, your eyes naturally going to the wound that was still bleeding. His shoulders sank a little, likely in part because of the weight of the chainsaw that he still held. His breathing became a bit more controlled the longer he stood like that, until eventually he seemed to steel himself.

Had he lost control of himself? Was that not normal for him to do?

Those questions left your mind when he turned back to you and you were confronted with a new sight:

Franklin being absolutely covered in blood.

Those usual protections he wore for his face hadn't been there, so the blood dripped down his face, going as far as to run down his neck and end up beneath his shirt. He looked even more so like the deranged serial killer that he was, a madman who murdered anyone he came across and chopped up the bodies after as though they weren't even human.

With heavy footsteps, he returned to the room, a trail of bloody footprints following him in as he stepped in that pool of her blood. He didn't bother to look at you that time, only focusing on placing the bloodied chainsaw on that center table before turning around and leaving again, going somewhere out of sight.

The once glance you spared for the woman's body was brief, only lasting long enough for you to see just how much blood covered her and the open wounds on her back. There was more, but you tore your gaze away, holding onto the table leg again as you willed yourself not to look at her again. You didn't want the fine details of what a chainsaw could do to a person who had been alive, how easily the bones would've been broken apart or how much of a person would end up looking like dog food.

In keeping your eyes from looking at her, your gaze naturally went to the chainsaw. It was still dripping with her blood, the red falling from the blade and onto the table before it dripped off the edge of the table, going along with the slope of the floor and heading towards the grates.

It was a grim sight, but you found you'd rather look at that then look at her any longer.

Eventually Franklin returned. Apparently he'd gone to wash up as a majority of the blood from his face and hands were gone, though there were still smears of red on his skin.

His focus still wasn't on you as he went about cleaning up the chainsaw, walking it to the other end of the room while he removed the chain before he began to wipe it down with a damp towel.

With his back turned towards you once again, you saw that wound again. The bloodstain had only gotten bigger, but he didn't seem bothered.

…. Unless he didn't know he'd gotten injured?

Would he have missed that? Perhaps, with all that had happened when she had tried to get away.

Should you mention it?

That thought sparked a memory: a coworker at one of your old jobs had managed to cut her side on one of the tables at your workplace and hadn't noticed it. You had, but you didn't say anything as you had assumed she was aware of it. The next day she found out you had seen that but hadn't said anything and had berated you for it.

Franklin was a lot more deadly than your old coworker. If he found out that you knew he'd had an injury and you didn't say anything, that might be enough to get him upset with you.

Getting this man upset with you was the last thing you needed right now.

“You're bleeding.”

At the sound of your voice, he paused. Glancing back at you, his eyebrows were furrowed. Not sure if he hadn't heard you clearly, you spoke again.

“You're bleeding.”

This time you pointed at his back in an effort to show him the spot where the injury was.

He stared at you for a moment. Then you watched as he reached for the area you'd pointed to, and when he pulled back his hand to find the fresh blood that continued to soak through the material of his shirt was now on his fingers, he let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.

He didn't say anything to you. After he finished cleaning the chainsaw, he left again.

The lights were still on and he hadn't moved the body in the hall. You weren't sure what was happening, if he'd be back or if he was done for now and would take care of the mess the next day. Hopefully not. Hopefully he'd at least come back to close the door so you didn't need to run the risk of seeing that woman's body when you woke up.

Franklin did end up coming back, and you kept your eyes averted as you heard him coming closer.

You jumped when he tossed a first-aid kit in front of you, the way the box appeared so suddenly and clattering against the floor so loudly startling you. When you looked back up to him, you found that he wasn't wearing his shirt.

He glanced at the first-aid kit before looking back at you, a small frown on his face.

“I can't reach the wound on my back,” he said to you, “so I need you to patch it up.”

“.... Okay.”

Franklin sat down in front of you and glanced back on occasion so he could keep an eye on you while you opened up the kit. Luckily for you, the wound on his back wasn't very deep. A relief, as it saved you from needing to go through the experience of needing to stitch him up.

Clean the wound. Disinfect the wound. Bandage it up. All steps were completed with shaking hands as every time you needed to touch his skin, you were convinced that you were going to do something that would upset him and he'd retaliate. And now that you'd seen what happened when someone managed to upset him, your imagination was even more vivid with what he might do to you. It was worst when you were disinfecting the wound, as he let out low noises whenever his wound would sting from the disinfectant.

All he needed to do was reach a hand back and smack you if you upset him too much. And it'd only take a few moments more for him to do something worse.

You scooted away from him when you were finished, signaling that you were done while also trying to put more distance between the two of you.

For some reason, he didn't get up to leave. While he turned around so he faced you again, Franklin stayed where he was, sitting on the floor of his butcher room while the woman's body stayed in the hall.

He was looking at you.

…. Was this good or bad?

“You had a chance to kill me,” he eventually said.

“What?”

He pointed to the kit, saying “there's a small pair of scissors in there. If you'd aimed them right, you could've killed me by stabbing them into my jugular.”

“Why didn't you do that?” he asked.

…... You weren't sure where this was going, or what the best way was to approach this. He hadn't said much of anything to you since meeting you that first time, and now the man was asking why you hadn't tried murdering him when given the chance.

It was mostly because you hadn't been thinking of it. After witnessing him murder that woman and seeing him covered in blood, terror had driven you to do as he said. You only mentioned the back wound because you were afraid he would be upset that you hadn't said anything, and you only did as he said in regards to bandaging him because a refusal seemed like certain death for you.

The certain death that was still visible from the corner of your eye.

“I don't..... I don't know that I could do that,” you whispered.

His eyebrows furrowed.

“Not even to the man who's been keeping you down here?” he asked.

After a moment, you shook your head.

Franklin was quiet, and you were wondering if your response was a bad one. Maybe all you had done was reaffirm whatever view he had of you in his head and he'd end this night by finally killing you off. Maybe every action you'd taken in staying quiet and out of his way in the hopes that he might have more sympathy for you had backfired and he only determined that someone as useless and pathetic as you deserved an awful death. Someone who was so controlled by fear that she didn't even notice an obvious escape from this situation, where he had been somewhat vulnerable for the first time since you'd met him.

The two of you sat in silence as the lights on the ceiling hummed above you.

Then he moved.

Getting back to his feet, Franklin collected the first-aid kit before he returned to the doorway. Flicking the light switch, he turned as he closed the door, and once again his eyes were on you.

This time there was a pensive look in his eyes.

And then you were shrouded in darkness once again as the door slid shut.

You awoke when something soft was thrown on top of you, and after a brief moment of panic, you found that he'd given you a blanket, tossing it on top of you as he went back to his work.

You thanked him as you wrapped it around yourself, grateful for the feeling of being covered after being exposed for so long. It hardly made sleeping on the surface of the floor any easier, but the soft material was a comfort to you.

He didn't say anything after you thanked him, and that day you spent your time focused on the blanket, keeping your eyes averted from what he was doing.

You chose to take the blanket as being a good sign. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't have bothered with anything like that. So him making an effort to make you feel a little bit more comfortable down there must've meant that he didn't dislike you. Maybe if you got a chance to talk to him a little more, you might get him to let you go. If you promised that you wouldn't say anything about him or what you'd seen him do, maybe he'd drop you off somewhere and let you find your way back to civilization. A long shot, but now one that seemed somewhat possible.

Unfortunately he didn't seem interested in talking to you.

And you found that more often than not, he would spend a significant amount of time staring at you. Sometimes just after he'd come in, sometimes when he was in the middle of cutting up a body. The awful noises you would hear would stop suddenly and you'd look over to see him watching you.

Having no clue what to make of that, you determined that it was better to stay quiet.

There was still a meat hook that remained empty. No need to make him decide to put you up there if he was reconsidering it.

Some time had passed since the incident with that woman had happened. You still had no true sense of how much time had gone by, but you were able to note when the hastily cleaned bloodstains in the hallway were becoming more faded.

And then the day came when Franklin finally decided to do something with you.

There hadn’t been anything odd about his behavior beforehand, nothing he had said or done that seemed out of place.

The only warning you got was the way the metal door screeched as it was flung open, startling you. You sat up to see Franklin standing in the doorway. He was staring right at you, and when your eyes met his, his jaw clenched and he walked towards you, pulling out a key from his pocket.

It was for the cuff around your ankle, as he knelt down in front of you and roughly yanked your leg towards him, slipping the key into the lock and opening the cuff.

Then he grabbed you by the arm and hauled you up.

The blanket that you'd wrapped around yourself fell to the floor, and when he began to lead you out of your small corner, you looked to where he was taking you:

The large table at the center of the room.

….. Oh god.

He forced you face first onto the table, your upper half resting against the metal while your lower half hung off the edge.

Oh god oh god oh god

He was finally gonna do it.

He was going to kill you. Cut you up into tiny pieces, save whatever parts of you he thought were good and then toss out whatever he felt was useless.

You were going to die.

That thought seemed to be confirmed when you felt him undo the clasp of your bra, pushing the straps out of the way so he had full access to the skin of your back. Calloused hands ran over your flesh, lightly squeezing certain areas before they went back to roaming all over.

You were shaking now, tears forming in your eyes as that giant cleaver was in your direct line of sight. It was easily within reaching distance for him. Any moment now he could grab it and start hacking away at you, and all you could hope for was that he would hit you in a way that ensured you would die quickly. You didn't want to live through the feeling of having your limbs chopped off or being slowly cut in half; if there was really no way out of this, then you just wanted it to be fast.

His hands had moved further down, feeling your waist before gliding over your panties.

Then he grabbed the elastic band and forced the thin fabric down to your thighs.

Warmth filled your cheeks at the humiliating action, making you press your face against the surface of the table in embarrassment.

He was going to go for the cleaver now, right? Begin the process of cutting you up, maybe alternate between the cleaver and the chainsaw.

Oh god..... Please don't let him stick me on the hook......

Soft whimpers were now coming from your mouth, ones that you couldn't contain no matter how hard you tried. He was going to hurt you, put you through total agony before he would eventually kill you. What your crime was you'd likely never know, but he would carry out your punishment regardless and keep you alive until he decided that it was time for you to die.

Please be fast, you begged silently.

Then there was a hand on your head. The same fingers that had been feeling up your flesh were now stroking your hair, petting you softly.

Almost like he was trying to comfort you.

You didn't have the time to realize how wrong that thought felt given all that Franklin had done to you.

Because there were fingers prodding at your entrance, pushing apart your pussy lips before one digit pushed itself inside of you.

A gasp was forced from your throat, both from discomfort as you weren't wet in the slightest and from shock as you finally realized what his intentions were.

….. Why?

After keeping you around for all this time, what made him decide to do this?

And was he still going to kill you after?

With the finger still prodding inside of you, you slowly turned your head to look back at him. His gaze was locked onto your cunt as he forced his finger in and out in an effort to get you ready for him, something that wasn't going as well as he'd hoped based on the way he was frowning.

…. Would he still fuck you if he couldn't get you loose enough? Or would he give up on it and decide to kill you?

Maybe.... Maybe if you went along with this, he might spare you. It meant swallowing the little pride that you had left, but so far you'd been allowed to live because you hadn't fought him, right? If you went along with what he wanted, then he really might let you go after.

It was worth a shot.

Franklin stopped what he was doing when he saw you begin to lower your hand down to your cunt, and from your peripheral vision, you saw that his eyes had narrowed. Yet he didn't do anything to stop you, curious as to what you were doing.

When you brought your fingers down to your clit and began to rub at the small bundle of nerves in an effort to lubricate yourself further, you didn't catch any change in him. No sharp intake of breath or laughter directed at you; he just watched wordlessly.

Then his fingers returned to your folds, pushing two of them in this time while his other hand left your head in favor of slipping beneath you so he could fondle your breasts. You let out a whimper, but you kept your focus on the fingers you had at your clit.

But while you were beginning to make noises, Franklin had yet to say anything or even show any signs that he was enjoying this. When you glanced back to him again, you couldn't read anything from his expression. Were it not for the fact that he was the one shoving his fingers into you, you wouldn't have thought that he wanted this at all.

Was he just playing with you? Was this some sort of sick joke, to see just how desperate you were for him to spare you before he really did go and kill you?

His eyes met yours then, and out of habit you made yourself look away.

You wanted to avoid him seeing you cry when he taunted you, if possible.

The hand he had at your chest moved to your back, pressing you down onto the cold surface of the metal. And as he did that, he removed the fingers from your cunt.

For a moment you thought that your fears were correct and you really were just being toyed with. Then a sharp pain that hit your ass made you cry out.

Franklin brought his hand back to the now-sore spot where he had hit you, and you heard him let out a low hum.

He brought his hand back down a few more times after that, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the room while you cried out every time his hand connected. It ended with your ass feeling bruised and sore. When you glanced back again, you saw a small smirk on his lips.

Ah..... That was the sort of thing he liked, was it?

That was confirmed when you felt his dick prodding at your leg through the fabric of his pants and apron.

He smacked you a few more times before returning his attention to your pussy, focusing again on loosening you up while you felt his cock get harder. That single finger of his fit in a bit more easily, and not long after he inserted a second one.

Though you felt you were reaching your limit when he tried to stuff in a third. You cried out, your fingers that were on your clit stopping their movements.

You couldn't do this.

He hummed.

And to your ear, it sounded like he was disappointed.

When he removed his fingers once again, you began to panic. You'd ruined it. Your one chance to escape certain death and you blew it.

“I'm sorry,” you began, tears falling as you continued with “I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm s-orry-!”

A hand rested on your head again while he hushed you. You shut your mouth, waiting to see what would happen next as you once again glanced back.

Franklin was undoing the ties of his apron, pulling the thing over his head before he grabbed you, lifting you up with one hand while he set the apron down where you had been laying. He placed you down on top of it, this time on your back so you could clearly see what he was doing.

There was little time wasted in the way he undid his belt and pulled out his cock, and even less time wasted in how he positioned himself between your legs, the tip brushing against your pussy lips as he moved in close.

With both hands on your hips, he shoved in.

Despite the efforts made by both you and him, it still hurt when he entered you, making you throw your head back while a cry escaped your lips.

Evidently it wasn't important to comfort you now as he ignored your cry of pain and began to thrust in and out. The hands on your hips kept you in place while he did what he wanted and his gaze stayed on the sight of his dick being swallowed by your cunt.

The first minute or so was painful, though the longer he went, the less pain you felt. Still, you wanted to lessen the pain further, so you again slid a hand down to your clit to find some relief.

He smacked your hand away.

He'd hit you with enough force that it hurt, and when you looked up at him with a confused expression on your face, you saw he was looking at you. He was still trying to keep his own expression level, but you could now see a slight flush to his face.

When your eyes met he smirked.

Franklin moved one of his hands slightly, repositioning so that he was still holding you down, but now his thumb was able to reach your clit.

He began to rub at the bundle of nerves, the way that his calloused, rough skin of his thumb harshly moved against you making you cry out again. You tried to find something to hold onto and ended up holding onto one of the straps of his apron when you couldn't find anything else.

His cock pushing into you started to feel better, something that was evident when your cries began to sound more like cries of pleasure. He pulled one hand away from your hip so he could use it to lean over you. Franklin's eyes went from your gasping mouth to your breasts that moved with every thrust and then to your stretched out cunt.

And when his eyes met yours again he reached out to cup your cheek.

The action felt almost loving. Just like when he'd placed a hand on your head to calm you.

This wasn't so bad.

Karma came instantly for a thought like that as you were forced to remember something important:

Franklin killed people.

He brutalized his victims when they were alive and then desecrated their bodies in death. A man who had likely been killing people for years was fucking you and there was no guarantee that you would live long after he was finished. The assortment of tools at his disposal were in that room with you, and all he needed to do after he was done was grab one and end you, and you would no doubt join those poor people on the hooks.

You didn't want to die.

So when his hand began to pull away from you, you grabbed it, your fingers brushing against his scarred skin as you brought it up to your lips, placing a kiss on his palm.

He stopped moving.

Panic filled you quickly as you feared you had messed up.

Then his hand pulled away from your grasp in order to grab you by the back of your head before Franklin forced his lips onto yours.

He was kissing you.

After the few seconds it took you to realize that, you made yourself kiss him back, going as far as to wrap your arms around his neck to try and pull him in closer, though as he was far stronger than you, you only managed to pull yourself up slightly.

Those dead people on the hooks had been next to you the entire time, and what they would have thought of you popped into your mind. If they would've understood your desperation to survive or if they would've felt choosing death was less pathetic than what you were doing now.

Franklin pulled away. His breathing was harsher now. And when he began to move again, his hips snapped against yours faster.

He came moments later, pushing himself against you while a deep groan rumbled through his chest. The feeling of the wet warmth that filled you made you whimper, and again you pulled yourself against him, burying your face against his shoulder.

The hand at the back of your head began stroking your hair again, once more in that comforting manner.

Don't kill me don't kill me don't kill me

Then he pulled your arms off of him, placing you back down onto the table while he stood back up. You whimpered when he pulled out and you felt his cum dripping out of you.

He chuckled.

“I'll keep you,” he said.

That got your attention, and you looked back up to him as he continued.

“You'll stay here with me. I'll continue as I have been with other stragglers that come this way while I keep you safe.”

….. He was the only one you needed to be kept safe from. But you held your tongue.

His hand went to rest on your stomach, fingers trailing over your flesh as he spoke again.

“I don't think you'd be able to help me with what I do,” he said, “so you'll stay upstairs and wait for me to come back up to you. Maybe when I can trust you, I'll let you go outside on occasion.”

Was staying here with him for the rest of you life worth it? Being trapped with him while he dragged down more unsuspecting people and killed them while you stood idly by?

His fingers stopped moving, and when you looked up to him again, there was a serious expression on his face.

“If you try to run, I won't show you any mercy,” Franklin said.

“..... I-I won't run. Promise,” you breathed.

“Good.”

He flipped you over, and you were surprised when you felt his cock brush against your pussy again. He'd gotten hard again that fast?

His pace was rough when he pushed inside again and you moaned. That earned you another soft touch to your hair which you leaned into, something he liked based on the way he hummed.

You caught sight of those bodies, however, your head facing in their direction as the pieces that still had eyes stared at you.

You turned your head away, clutching at the apron beneath you while you made yourself focus on Franklin.

This wasn't what you wanted. You wanted him to let you go, not fall in love with you.

But what the hell were you going to do about it now?

There was no telling how much time had passed by the time he was done with you, finally pulling away and readjusting himself while you laid on the table feeling sore and exhausted. His multiple releases and a few of your own were leaking out of your pussy and dripping down your thighs, and you cringed a little at the thought of how used you felt.

That's something you'll need to get used to, you thought to yourself. At least you'll be alive.

Franklin was gentle when he picked you up. Your head rested against his chest as he walked towards the door. Finally, you were leaving that room. Hopefully you'd never need to enter it again.

Hopefully he'd never feel the need to put you in there again.

The hallway was still stained with the blood of the woman he'd killed before, and as he walked you up the stairs, you noticed scratch marks in the walls. Like someone had dragged their nails along the walls in a desperate bid to keep themselves from being taken down there.

Don't think about it.

As you were brought up onto the ground floor of the house, you found that it was evening, and a glance through the windows you passed by showed you that there was still light out as the sun was setting.

You saw something else out there.

The junkyard you had seen on that very first day at the back of the house.

What caught your attention first was the wheelchair simply because it seemed out of place among the junked cars – maybe Franklin had meant to toss it and forgot.

And then your eyes were drawn to something that stood behind it.

Your car. The one you'd been driving when you hit the spike strip and crashed. That Franklin had brought back to his house saying that he could fix it.

Your car sitting within a sea of other vehicles that were in similar condition.

….. Don't think about the numbers. Don't think about any of it.

At least you're still alive.

Your hand went to clutch at Franklin's shirt while you pressed your face against his chest. You sensed him glancing down at you as he continued taking you to what you assumed would be a bedroom.

“We'll get you cleaned up and then sleep,” Franklin told you, “I'll give you a little something to eat in the morning so we can get you back to the point that you can eat meals again.”

You nodded.

At least you're still alive, you repeated once more.

#reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #franklin x reader #franklin bordeau #hxh franklin #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere franklin #slasher au #hxh x reader

[mychoombatheroomba]

Nine Names

Disavowed (Krauser x GN! Reader/Krauser x Leon) - Chapter 1

Maybe he did wish that you were with him, if only to have someone he trusted with him as he did this. It would have been nice, Krauser thought, to die alongside someone like that. Someone who understood.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

This is a spin-off of my Leon x Reader series, Between the Bones! It will switch back and forth between Operation Javier and Krauser's perspective on some things from the main story! This can be read in isolation though! Lots of unrequited love from Jack in this, and, well, we all know how his story ends anyway.

Next Chapter

Chapter Index

June 29th, 2002

10:52 

Mixcóatl, Amazon Rainforest

There would be noise, but it would be fast. Making it quick was the least he could do. It would be fast, but that didn’t make the sight before him any easier to stomach. Resigned eyes peering up at him from down the barrel of a gun. A single nod. Acceptance washing over paling features as those eyes closed. The tension of the trigger against his finger. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d had to do this. 

Hell, it wasn’t even the first time in the last twenty-four hours. 

Didn’t make it any easier. 

Still, he pulled the trigger because it’s what he needed to do. It’s what had to happen. It was that or watch another of his men lose their mind, become a threat. It wasn’t for fear of his own safety that he squeezed that trigger, but to spare the man standing in front of him that fate. Barnes deserved better than to turn into a mindless drone, a shell of the man he’d been. He deserved better. All of them did. The Major knew, though, it wasn’t about what he or anyone else deserved. 

So, with a bang that startled some nearby birds into flight, he did what needed to be done. There was the smell of blood and gunpowder, the sound of a body hitting the damp ground, and with that, Jack Krauser was alone. 

He hadn’t been alone two weeks ago, when he’d come to Mixcóatl under the cover of darkness, his men locked and loaded at his side. Ten of them, Krauser included. Nine of the best and brightest soldiers that Krauser had served with before, some that he’d trained. Men and women whose skill he hadn’t doubted for a moment, when they’d been given a name and a kill order. 

Men and women who might still be alive, if things had been different. 

It was hard not to think of those what-ifs, as Krauser looked down at the last of his men’s still body, as he lowered his gun. He’d never been one to entertain fantasies - seeing anything other than reality had always been a good way to end up dead, in his book. He was as good as dead anyway though, wasn’t he? 

If the intel had been better . . .

If they’d known what they were being sent into . . .

If they hadn’t been stuck in a jungle with no way out . . .

If they hadn’t been behind the lines of a foreign country . . .

If they weren’t living in a world where war now meant soldiers turning into mindless monsters . . .

If his evac request had been approved . . .

But that wasn’t the hand he’d been dealt. So, he ignored the tremor in his hand. Knelt at Barnes’ side and rested the soldier’s hands over his chest. Best that Krauser could do. No dog tag to take. There would be no retrieval of the body, Krauser knew that, and there could be no evidence that they were here. Hadn't started out that way, but if the government wouldn't send evac? That meant something had changed behind the scenes, that this had been moved off the books. No names, no traces. Plausible deniability. That had been the game for years now, a game he hadn’t wanted to play, but learned to anyway. Whatever the sacrifices. 

Not the first comrade he’d had to put down, not the first set of dog tags taken to keep a secret. 

He could still remember the look in your eyes when he’d handed you that spare tag, one with the name of a man you’d cared for deeply. 

Krauser wasn’t surprised to be thinking of you, now. Who better to let his thoughts drift towards? You, who had lived the exact moment he’d just lived dozens of times; staring down the barrel at someone you’d known. Cared for. Someone you’d had to kill. You, who’d worn that extra dog tag even if it wasn’t yours, even if you thought that Krauser hadn’t noticed. You’d carried that kill with you in the form of a silver ghost, just as Krauser carried his with him, now. Because even if their deaths would be twisted to keep a secret, they deserved to be remembered. 

Nine pairs of names. 

At least yours wasn’t among them. 

Then again, maybe things would have been different if you’d been here, too. You were a survivor. Always had been, even before Krauser’s training sharpened you into the blade you’d become. Maybe if you’d been here with him, you’d have been able to help him keep the others alive. 

Or maybe you’d be dead, too. 

No. Better that you weren’t with him. Better that your name wouldn’t be on Krauser’s conscience, because the thought of that . . .

He shouldn’t think of you. He’d learned that early on, years before this moment. Thinking of you was dangerous; a distraction. Don’t be stupid because it feels good. He’d told you that, once, and he’d been good at heeding his own advice. 

But if he was as good as dead anyway . . . 

Had this been how you’d felt? Krauser had always felt he understood what it was you’d experienced, all those years ago. He’d always been so sure that his experience in war had given him equal footing with you. Loss was a part of war, and he’d thought he understood why you’d moped around base so often, or why you’d pushed yourself to be the best. 

Krauser hadn’t known a damn thing. 

Now, he did. 

He understood what it was to feel the terror of seeing one’s own turn. He knew what it was to feel the truth settle in his gut that just one bite, one scratch, was all it took to doom someone. He understood how eviscerating it was to watch the color drain from their skin, the light fade from their eyes. He knew the utter fucking hopelessness that came with being unable to stop it. The realization that you were the only one left that was enough to make the world seem ready to cave in. 

He understood why you’d kept your Captain’s dog tag with you through it all - the training, the missions, all of it.

And he understood, perhaps better than anything else, the anger that he’d seen in you. Rage at the fate that had befallen your comrades. Fury at the people who caused it all. 

Or, in Krauser’s case, person. One name to answer for nine.

Javier Hidalgo. 

The same person he and his men had been sent to kill. War-lord head of the Sacred Snakes cartel, smuggler with connections to Umbrella, and the least lucky man on the fucking planet right now, because Jack Krauser was still alive. He was alone, behind enemy lines and outnumbered, but he was alive.

The Major may have been at the end of his rope, but he could still hang Javier from it. 

That was the thought that kept the pistol in Krauser’s hands from finding his mouth and turning skywards. That was the thought that pushed him on through the jungle, leaving Barnes’ body behind. His men would want him to keep going. You would want him to keep going. 

So he did, letting that burning and clawing in his chest carry him forward. 

He moved through the trees as silently as he could, looking like little more than a shadow in dim light painted by the canopy overhead. Enough time spent learning that the fauna in the jungle was just as deadly as the once-people that had dealt his squad so much death made him quiet as he moved on. He knew how to leave as little trace as possible, how to move unseen. The camo of mud he’d adopted kept his normally pale hair and skin from standing out amidst the foliage, and his eyes scanned the rainforest around him. Watching. Waiting. Anticipating.  

Give me your best.

This old dog would taste blood one last time. He’d fight his way through the whole damn forest if he had to. 

If you were there, you would be right there by his side, gunning along with him to mount Javier’s head on a fucking spike. 

Maybe he did wish that you were with him, if only to have someone he trusted with him as he did this. It would have been nice, Krauser thought, to die alongside someone like that. Someone who understood-

Footsteps in the distance - barely audible over the sounds of the forest - made him freeze. He wasn’t sure at first, but then he heard it again; the unmistakable squelch of mud beneath boots, no matter how well the owner of said boots was trying to hide it.  

He shouldn’t have used his pistol on Barnes. Too much noise. His knife would have been smarter. Slower, but smarter. 

Didn’t matter now. 

Just meant another fight. 

Another body added to the count. 

Krauser drew that aforementioned blade with his left hand, holding his pistol in his right. He couldn’t see whoever it was nearing him. And it was certainly a who . No zombie that Krauser had ever seen could hide the sound of their footsteps so well. He wasn’t as alone as he thought, then. Unfortunately for whatever bastard decided he was going to try and interrupt that solitude. So, the Major pressed his back against the tree at his side and listened. The footsteps were faint, but Krauser could hear them as they passed by the other side of that tree, slowly approaching him. He readied himself for a fight, craving that violence that might settle his soul a touch. He waited . . .

Then, nothing. 

Nothing for several heavy seconds but the croaking and cawing of animals and chirping of insects. 

Then, in a blur of movement, Krauser got his wish.

A gun trained on him. That was all the Major saw. A gun and the shape of a person holding it. 

They both moved fast. 

Krauser’s knife slashed out, arcing towards the assailant’s left arm. To their credit, they didn’t fire the pistol. Didn’t cry out as the knife cut into flesh. Not deep. Not enough to make them drop the pistol. The arm wove underneath the rest of his swing, but Krauser was already following through. His right hand, the one with the pistol, moved down, pressing against the armed hand. His knife, meanwhile, moved in a flash of silver forward. 

And Krauser was damned glad that he stopped short of going for that kill when he saw the person behind the gun for the first time. 

Not that relief was ever something he’d thought to feel when it came to seeing those pretty blues looking up at him. 

“Son of a bitch,” Krauser hissed, bloodshot eyes widening. 

As for Leon S. Kennedy . . . he looked like he hadn’t expected to be looking at Krauser at all. “Major . . .” the younger man breathed, slowly lowering his pistol in surrender, his too-perfect features twisted in an expression of utter shock. Krauser didn’t think it was just because of the blade at his throat. 

A blade that the Major lowered after he was sure his rage-and-exhaustion-addled brain wasn’t playing some sick joke on him. 

Or maybe it was the universe doing the joking, because he’d allowed himself to imagine you at his side for this suicide mission. 

And the universe had sent your fucking boy toy instead. 

Your boy toy who should have known better than to come at him in close quarters with a gun. “You’re lucky you didn’t need me dead, rookie,” Krauser growled, “because you’d never have been able to do it moving like that.”

Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Oh, Operation Javier, my beloved.

So, since I'm focusing on the Remake timeline, Operation Javier is different from what's depicted in Darkside Chronicles! Namely that Krauser had a team that he lost this time around, but Leon definitely seems to have still been involved. I was really curious as to how that all shaped up, so until Capcom gives us a more concrete timeline, here's my take on it! It will still definitely tie in a lot of events from the original, but will be adjusted to fit what I think might have happened to Krauser and Leon down there!

#jack krauser #jack krauser x reader #metaltango #jack krauser x leon kennedy #angst #resident evil #gender neutral reader #operation javier #between the bones #disavowed

[ghostofskywalker]

Where You're Meant to Be - 2

Will Turner/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,017

Summary: After being taken prisoner aboard the Flying Dutchman, you resent the men who have accepted your soul as repayment of another's debt, especially the Captain. It doesn't matter one bit that he's the most attractive man you've ever seen, not at all.

Flower and Meaning: frangipani || the strength to withstand tough challenges

Note: part two of my august work for the @yearofcreation2023!!

Chapters: one || two || three || four

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Will Turner Masterlist

You slowly opened your eyes to see light filtering in through the cracks in the wood, and the feeling of the cot’s bedding against your skin. You slowly reached out and touched the material, and even though it was rough and smelled (just like the rest of the ship) of the sea, you were grateful for the chance to rest on something more gentle than the wooden mast you had been previously tied to. It took a moment to remember all that happened the previous night, and for a moment you worried that it was all a dream. Now all that was missing was a change of clothes and the feeling of stepping out onto dry land, something you would hopefully be able to do soon.

The door to the small room creaked open, and Will Turner stepped inside. He looked tired, and you immediately stood up as if you had been sleeping here in secret, and not as if he hadn’t been the one to allow you in his room. “Is everything alright?” you asked.

He nodded. “On the ship, yes. But I need to tell you something, and it relates to you getting back to shore.”

This was it. He was going to tell you that everything he said last night was a lie and that they’d be tying you to the mast again posthaste. “What is it?” you asked, trying not to sound disappointed.

“It will be a few days before we’ll be anywhere close to land,” he said. “And unless you’d like to take a boat and brave the open seas, you’re stuck here for a little longer.”

Oh. That didn’t seem like it was that worrying, but you supposed after your conversation last night, you did expect to be off this godforsaken ship sooner rather than later. Well, you could attempt to sail off into the sunset yourself, but something in your mind warned you how that might end (and it wasn’t good). “I appreciate the offer of a boat, Captain, but if it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait until you make port.”

A smile crossed Will’s face before he responded. “The Dutchman can’t make port yet, but we’ll get you within sight of land before we let you free, I promise.”

“Why can’t you make port?” You had heard many stories about this ship, but you assumed that at its core it was the same as any other pirate’s vessel, and as far as you were aware, there was no restriction on how often you could stop somewhere.

“As long as I continue to guide the souls of those die at sea to the other side,” Will said. “I may come ashore for one day every ten years, and five years still have to pass before I am allowed to set foot on land again. Like I said, I know what it’s like to be tethered to this ship, and you will not have that fate. The man who wronged you will become part of the crew when he dies, like the rest of them.”

You nodded, and you could see the way his face changed as he spoke. You wanted to know more, but you didn’t want to push him to relive the pain he so obviously had gone through to get here. You had your suspicions about the ship, and the fact that the crew were technically dead, and this only went towards confirming it. “I understand,” you said softly. “And I don’t mind the wait to get to land, as long as you do one thing.”

“And what might that be?”

“You allow me to walk freely among the decks for the remainder of my stay.”

At your demand, Will smiled. “I would never dream of tying you to the mast again, that I can promise.”

***

The experience of stepping out onto the deck of the ship was nerve-wracking. You would be facing an entire crew of (dead) sailors, who believed that the only place for you on this ship was with ropes around your wrists. Other than working in a place where you would come across them quite often, you knew very little about pirates in general. Will had told you that he had no intention of keeping you trapped, but would the rest of the crew listen to him?

It took another day before you truly stopped worrying, and you found yourself fascinated with pirate life. Of course, life on The Flying Dutchman was going to be different than most other ships sailing the high seas, as this crew didn’t really do much in the way of raiding or violence (at least anymore, because you had heard the stories of Davy Jones), but you enjoyed the feeling of the open water and the freedom that being on the deck of a ship brought. No longer tied to land, a piece of your brain whispered at you to stay here forever, or at least to join a true pirate crew when you made landfall again in a few days.

Thankfully, Will kept to his promise. The two of you spent a decent amount of time together, given the fact that you didn’t really want to be around most of the other crew members, whose leering smiles and wandering eyes often caused a shiver to move down your spine, but you never felt that way around Will Turner.

You spent the most time in his room, and he was kind enough to keep allowing you to use his bed. Where he slept now you didn’t know, and you didn’t know if you wanted to ask either.

At night, you spent time with him on the deck of the ship as the rest of the crew slept. The ship often returned to float upon the top of the ocean rather than exist in its depths, and you liked the small break from watching the sea of departed souls travel to between realms (which unsurprisingly, was decidedly depressing). Will was incredibly funny, and your laughter often danced upon the soft waves the ship sailed upon, neither of you caring if you woke up the other crew members. You didn’t know that much about him other than the few pieces of information that had come up in conversation, but he seemed to be more open with you. He was completely alone in life (or death? Honestly, you still weren’t sure), and you could see he had moments where has past ate at him, but you didn’t want to bring him more sorrow, so you kept your questions to yourself.

Well, not all of them.

It was on one of those nights that you finally plucked up the courage to ask him something that you had wanted to from the moment you two had that conversation on the deck and the first time he allowed you to sleep in his room. “Can I steer the ship?”

Will laughed. “Do you even know how to steer a ship like this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached the wheel.

You were silent for a telling moment before speaking again. “Of course I do!”

“So you have experience?”

Pause. “Yes.” Your voice was a little less certain this time.

“And what experience would that be?”

More silence. He was right, there was no way around it. “Come on, why can’t I just steer for a little bit? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could sink my ship, that’s what could happen.”

Now he was lying, and the smiles present on both of your faces were clear that this argument was not that serious. “Can’t this ship never sink though?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “I think that makes it the perfect ship for me to practice with, don’t you?”

He must have known that you were never going to give in with this, so with an exaggerated sigh and a step to the right, you now had access to the giant wooden wheel. This was the brain of the ship, and every tremor that swept through its boards originated at this very point, where you were standing. Staring out at the empty deck in front of you, an image flashed through your mind. In it, you were wearing a pirate’s hat and commanding a crew of your own, but this time in broad daylight. The sun was high in the sky as you spun the wheel and moved freely through the water, wind catching in the sails as pirate colors flew high from the mast.

And through all this, Will was there as well. It may seem like something of a shock, but the logical part of your brain knew exactly why he was part of this particular fantasy. In the time since you stopped hating him, it had become even more difficult to ignore how attractive he was, and there was a part of you that wanted to escape back to land so that the recurring fantasies of kissing him underneath the moonlight would finally stop playing each time you slept, the smell of him strongly intertwined with the rough bedding you fell asleep against every time.

You pulled the wheel to one side, and the ship jerked loudly. It didn’t completely turn upside down, but there was a shift in the direction, and a slightly uncomfortable rocking of the boat that was echoed by the movement of the water. “Whoa!” Will said, rushing back to stand right beside you rather than a few paces away (as he had been before). “What are you doing?”

“Turning. I have everything under control, I promise.”

He tried to look stern, but a smile peeked out anyway. “Somehow I doubt that,” he said, stepping even closer. Now he was standing right behind you, and he gently moved so that his hands were covering yours as they rested on the spokes of the wheel. “How about I help you steer for a little?”

You wanted to make a joke about him not trusting you, or wanted to move a little bit farther away from him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The feeling of his body against yours and his head almost leaning on your shoulder was intoxicating, and you desperately wanted to turn around and kiss him.

But you didn’t; instead you just stood there and relished in the feeling of his hands covering yours as you gently moved the ship in a large circle around a piece of the open ocean. You were no pirate - this whole experience had taught you that you were far from a natural at all this, but boy did you want to learn more if he was going to be the one to teach you.

After Will pulled back slightly, softly saying that he trusted you to not ruin the ship at this point, you turned around and pulled him into a hug. The two of you separated, but now you were faced with a new issue. He was within kissing distance, and you really really wanted to change that.

The movement was slow, the two of you ever-so-gently testing the waters as you brought your faces closer together, and at first you didn’t even realize that you were doing it. But then all of the sudden his lips were right there, and you were all ready to cross that final bit of distance between you.

Until one of the men from below the deck sneezed so loudly that you pulled away from each other.

“I’m so sorry,” Will said, as if he had suddenly come to his senses. “I didn’t mean to imply anything-”

“It’s fine,” you said, the moment having completely fizzled away for you too. “I’m sorry too.”

It hurt to lie like that, to imply that you didn’t actually want to finish what you started. But all of this had suddenly become too messy, and there were too many unknowns about your situation for you to feel confident jumping headfirst into something more with him.

No matter how much you wished that crew member had sneezed just a few moments later.

- end of part two - 

Series Taglist: N/A

if you want to know when i post a new fic, follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library!

#where you’re meant to be fic #will turner #will turner x reader #will turner x you #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the carribean x reader #orlando bloom x reader

[oneshortdamnfuse]

The Duffer’s early characterization of Billy as a racist bully is a problem, and not because Billy didn’t actually say or do anything racist. It’s because their supposed “inspiration” picked from IT (specifically Henry Bowers) and their push for Billy to have more overtly racist lines is not appropriate for the story they were telling. At all. I go back and forth over whether or not it would have been better for Billy to be this one dimensional villain, like Jason Carver was in season 4. However, given the type of story they were telling I am glad that we were given the opportunity to see a “bully” type character who had a backstory that explained his motivations. It added layers to his and Max’s character. It made the fight against the Mindflayer more dramatic and compelling. That being said, as an abuse survivor whose ACE score is an 8, it was still hard to watch and even harder dealing with the fandom fallout that is still stuck in the mindset that Billy is basically the Duffer’s version of Henry Bowers - something they never truly accomplished.

Stranger Things is not IT, no matter how many nods they try to give to it. IT is inspired by real racist and homophobic violence in a small town. Stranger Things does not touch upon either of those things with any authenticity, and it was never meant to. It doesn’t mean that fans can’t or shouldn’t care about those things. However, there is absolutely no good reason why the Duffers should have been faithful to their original vision of Billy being as overtly racist (using slurs, even) and violent as Henry Bowers because it serves no narrative purpose other than to traumatize characters and vicariously viewers with minimal long term consequence to the plot. This is not IT. They spend more time on this show tormenting abused people than they ever do addressing systemic hate. So fans should not treat it like IT, and they should certainly not treat Billy as another Henry Bowers or act like he’s ever done anything on par with that character’s actions when there is no canon proof of that.

My ongoing problem with the Duffers is that they don’t utilize trauma in a thoughtful way that connects to the overall theme. They are writing a generic good over evil story, which is okay but it’s not what people inflate it to be. Instead trauma is like decoration. You are meant to look at it and maybe it will evoke some feelings but it is just decoration. Stephen King’s IT is not that. Trauma is integral to the plot of the book where an entire town is not made “sick” by supernatural experimentation but rather the systemic hatred and disregard for life that is pervasive in their community. Henry Bowers is symbolic of that hatred in his words and his actions, which is why he becomes a willing pawn of IT unlike Billy who is taken against his will and forced to relive his trauma. For Henry, this union is liberating and exciting. Henry never stops, either. He never backs down. He is unrelentingly racist and homophobic, as opposed to Billy who leaves Max and her friends alone after a single incident. Henry also never feels bad about what he does, unlike Billy who dies apologizing.

Any time fans justify their feelings towards Billy using the Duffer’s words, I can’t take them seriously because their vision re: his characterization was never realized and it’s a good thing it wasn’t. They wouldn’t handle it, and you know how I know? The very scene where he attacks Lucas has minimal narrative consequence despite the way it made fans feel. Like I said, it’s just for decoration. This is not Henry Bowers. This is not IT. They never intended to explore racism in any meaningful way, just like they’re dragging their feet in terms of queer representation four seasons in. It. Is. Just. Decoration. Instead, we got to see fans cheer as they made Billy suffer and die while his trauma was put on full display after doing heinous things against his will. That’s not a villain’s satisfying end. That is a tragedy. It’s extremely sad, and the season 4 finale as well as the overall lack of emotional maturity in this fandom has not only reopened the wound of seeing his trauma mocked but rubbed salt in it with every screenshot of the Duffer’s words that gets reposted.

I cannot reiterate enough that trauma is decoration to the Duffers, which isn’t just evident with Billy but I digress. Yet, some fans hang on to their shallow words like everything they say or suggest is narratively true and fully realized. I can think of no better example of this than when fans say Billy is homophobic because Henry Bowers is homophobic, even though there’s no evidence he is and in fact Billy is called a f****t by his father. Just absolutely no critical thought there. If I don’t stop somewhere I will never shut up about it but to this day it makes me unbelievably angry to see anyone dare make comparisons with IT and Henry Bowers when that’s not what Stranger Things is about no matter how much they borrow aesthetically from Stephen King. Being critical of Billy is fine and encouraged by me, but not when you’re using it to make ridiculous claims or simply justify hating abuse survivors. We’re not all good little survivors who are soft and demure, but we still deserve a chance to heal. You don’t need to be a jerk about people who wanted that for Billy.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #long post cw