#i am NEVER DRAWING DEBRIS AGAIN

[sankttealeaf]

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x gender neutral reader #; tealeaf's writing

[mollymagician]

Okay, there’s an hour left of Valentines Day. I wanted to post a present, because I am so grateful to this fandom. You got me drawing again. You got me WRITING again. After YEARS.

I love you. Have some fic.

…………………………………………………………………….

If you asked Hob what he loved most about living, he could easily give you as many different answers as there were days contained in his 600 years of life. But there was one that he always came back to, again and again (and not just because he was a teacher now and felt obligated)- you just never run out of new things to learn.

Today, for instance, on his meandering walk home from campus, Hob discovered he’d finally learned how not to jump clear out of his skin every time Dream appeared next to him out of thin bloody air.

Dream’s boot hit the ground in perfect step with Hob straight out of the ether, as though they’d been strolling together for an hour.  Dream quirked one of his small smiles, hands tucked in his pockets. And there it was. Another thing Hob had learned over the years. That certain…was it even a look? It was more of an aura, if anything. The aura that surrounded Dream of the Endless when he was attempting to look innocent.

“Hullo, love,” Hob said, and quirked an eyebrow. “Wasn’t expecting this pleasure today.”

Dream slanted him an amused look. “I found myself with unexpected free time”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. And unexpectedly…inspired.” The smile grew, just enough to crinkle the corner of his eyes. (Oh, some sort of shenanigans were obviously afoot.) He gestured at the extra load Hob was bogged down with. “Do you need assistance carrying any of…this?”

Hob laughed, the kind of laugh that would have come with a compulsive ear tug if he hadn’t been trying hard to break the habit for the past decade or so. Aside from the usual satchel loaded with laptop and papers and other academic debris, he was hauling a bag filled with what looked like half the candy aisle of Tesco, along with at least one bunch of flowers, a small balloon on a stick that read #1 TEACHER and some sort of furry stuffed creature. “Valentines day, “He huffed. “The kids are sweethearts, really. But I have no idea how I’m going to eat all of this. Probably going to have to leave half of it in the break room at the Inn, get everyone else as sugared up as I am.”

He barely heard Dream’s soft, rumbled laughter. “They appreciate you.” Hob grinned down at his shoes and Dream shifted to brush their shoulders just the smallest bit. A quiet moment, and then, very very softly, “You are very…easy to appreciate.”

Goddammit. Hobs breath streamed out in the snappy air as he opened his mouth, shut it, cleared his throat. If his face hadn’t already been red from the chill, it damn well would be now.

Dream went on. “Your student’s appreciation was very sweet. And. In some cases, very loud. Today.” He tipped back his chin to look at the clouds scudding by.

“Aha.” Hobs grin bloomed. “Inspiration, you said. I see. You were…appreciating how inspiring my student’s appreciation was.”

“Perhaps.” Innocent.

Hob felt a wave of something familiar and impossible to smother, a kind of unbearable fondness, well up from the core of himself. Acting on impulse, he thrust his hand into the sack propped against his hip and came up with a…heart-shaped lolly. Of course. Swirled in shades of blue and orange that looked like it would give you some kind of radioactive superpower if this was a comic. Lucky for him it wasn’t. He grinned and handed it over with a wink. “Well, I’d appreciate if you’d help me eat some of this. Seeing as how you’re here.”

Dream took it with an unreadable expression.

“It won’t irradiate you,” Hob said. “Er…probably.”

“Hmm.” Dream stated at it. He twirled it between his fingers. Then he tugged the wrapper off and, with great deliberation, slid it into his mouth.

Hob swallowed. “I, uhh-“

And was cut off by a loud crunch.

Dream removed the stick from his mouth, completely devoid of lolly. He crunched a few more times, thoughtful. “That was….not terrible.”

A laugh burst loose from Hobs chest, only slightly breathless. “Bloody hell, you’re one of those lunatics who just crushes it right off, aren’t you? That wins first place for best new fact I’ve learned today.” At dreams blank look, he elaborated, “Sweets. You’re a cruncher. Heh, you know, that’s something I wouldn’t have thought, love, considering how you….uh…”

Dream said, “Hob.”

“Home!” Hob clapped his hands together, brightly. “Right! Lets go home! I’m freezing.”

“That is,” Dream intoned, “an inspired idea.”

“What the hell flavor is that, anyway?” Hob asked. Dream looked down at the empty stick, thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know.” He raised his gaze back to Hob, eyes so very bright. And, oh, the crinkle was back. “Perhaps you can tell me.”

When their mouths came together it was nearly hard enough to upset the bag all over the sidewalk.

Later that night-

“Dream, love, what are you doing, digging through all that?”

“I….nothing.” Innocent.

“Heh. Okay, fine. Let’s dump it, I’m sure there’s another one in there somewhere.”

#dreamling #the sandman netflix #dream x hob #Dreamling fic #Valentine’s Day #my fic #my first fic in nearly 20 years #❤️❤️❤️ #Hob insisted he take the flowers

[ashwithapen]

dissociative disorder? uh yeah, i sure hope it does

and so suddenly, it's just me here. the bright, life-filled wonder i lived within for just a day has faded out with the music and so suddenly, it's just me here. 

today is wednesday august 30th and i have school in two days. i turn an adult in a little less than five months and still don't feel so much older than 14. i'm still a kid with a keyboard clacking beneath their fingers, painting a dimmed screen with miserable lines of text. i'm still a kid so full of fantasy that when my unfiltered joy is met with the expectations of my age i crumple from the bottom up and top down in one breath, debris colliding at my heart where a fire is doused. 

whose skin is this, pinched questioningly between foreign fingers? whose neck is bleeding from a sharp hangnail and whose scalp is stale and parched for shampoo? who is popping their joins in the middle of the witching hours, the sound ever so distant?

a laugh track plays on repeat behind my staggered breaths: one too shallow and the next too deep and so on, a group of the most mindless trying to perform the dance of life and keep the oxygen moving. i hear her laughing, 14, and i pity her and her rainbow drawings, waxed into the in-between pages of a forgotten notebook. she isn't going to college. the only future she has will also be waxed into the in-between pages, breathing that sweet summer oxygen only every other moment, like my staggered breaths: one too short and the next even shorter and so on until some end comes of it.

the cogs and whatnots keep the fan turning up there on the pitched ceiling, every part of it so old and scary that the child of the forest is resigned to crying yet again into a pair of unnamed arms. a creak and a crick and a squeal and a swill and a dip and with a yell the whole ceiling comes down and sends baby right back where she left. 

and oh we are hungry, starving, gnashing our teeth at every flash of fresh meat, starving. wet dog on the porch, half-blind, twice my size, and he is starving. a hand misses his teeth by accident, its fingers young and untrained. the watcher prays this is not another falsehood of its memory. when the child pets the starving dog, everything stills, and then she laughs. and then the ceiling comes down, and the porch is made wider, and the rain meets skin, and there are two wet dogs, starving. 

and so suddenly, so shortly, so quickly, with the same fading of the music, the same clacking of the keys, the same fan and same dog and same me, it appears that i am alone. here, in the dark where both the world sleeps, i find the waning of noir in its countless hues to be it all. so many memories, so many scared faces stuck in a game where everyone is unsure just how long they've been playing. the world could end and who's to say the turns wouldn't keep coming and going so cyclically, one day so bright and the next so dull and the whole thing just one digit different in an expanse of noir, something so vast that these precious words in between are born to be forgotten—you find comfort in that: that even your words exist on borrowed consciousness.

and to just keep going, drawing a word and another and so on how you just love to, repeating yourself on that borrowed consciousness, repeating yourself because you are only yourself, repeating yourself, repeating, repeating, repeating, into noir again. 

have you ever been in love?

i don't think i have, not really. 

i think words like "i love him" or "i love her" or "i love you" and i never say them, because that would be too far. i mean them how they mean to me, in that indescribable way. i don't say them because you won't know love how i have come to, and so those three words will sound different when they leave my lips and fall to your ears. do not mistake my loving you for me being in love. i love you, plain and simple, and it's a thing of honour to look no further into it. in my own way, in my own space, on my own terms, i love you.

soft. oh to be held so softly. unnamed arms cradling so close, light brown hair, and a deep, warm voice. 

i can nearly see you, but you just won't show me your face. i could just call out to you, but alas, you are ever so unnamed. 

i stare at the woods, cold and dark and creeping, and i mouth the words "thank you". i see the demoness, i see her glowing eyes, i see her flowing robes, i see her antlers. i hope your house is warm, wherever exactly it is. i hope she eats well and isn't afraid to cling to your arm or laugh as loud as her little lungs allow. she never got what she deserved. please. give her what she deserves. 

#ash writes #life writing #drabbles #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writers and poets #writerscommunity #poetsandwriters #dissociative system #actually dissociative #osddid #did osdd #osdd system #osdd #osdd 1b

[sabo-has-my-heart]

I... just woke up... I'm sorry. Can you write... Killer? With prompt 15 and fluff 11? With a f!reader? Thank you...

I have the stupid. I'm sorry.

Congratulations

lol, don't worry, I understand. Half asleep but you still want to send in a request. hope you like it. hope I didn't make Killer too... fluffy

Warnings: vague mentions of kidnapping, fluff

Word Count: 1320

     You loved walking along the beach, particularly in the early morning. It had become sort of a routine for you, shoes in hand, feeling the surf lapping gently at your skin while you watched the early morning light begin to paint the once dark sky with beautiful golden hues. So early in the morning, things were still quiet save for the sounds of the waves. Part of you knew that you shouldn’t be out here this morning. You’d seen the wreckage from afar, a result of the tempest that the sea had become last night. Not even the best of sailors could navigate the waters around your island in such a storm. Still, you’d seen shipwrecks before and nothing had ever come of them. Items and debris washed ashore, the once strong crew likely lost to the wind and waves, but you’d never had any trouble. If anything, you found the most interesting treasures amongst the wreck. Not just simple coins or gold bars, but exotic fruits, beautiful vases, and delicate silks. You were never greedy, taking just a couple of items, nothing that anybody would miss, but enough to satisfy your desires. Looking away from the sunrise, you turned your head forward again, gasping when you saw an unconscious form laying in the sand, the water seeming to refuse to let him be. Rushing over, you fell to your knees beside him, quickly checking for a pulse. It was there, under his freezing skin, yet surprisingly strong. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, you did your best to drag him further up the beach and out of the reach of the freezing waters. He was heavy, though perhaps that was to be expected, he was rather broad and muscular. You weren’t weak by any means, but dragging a full grown man was no easy task. Gently pulling away his mask, you couldn’t help but pause, stunned by what was hidden beneath the beaten metal. Without thinking, your fingertips gently traced his lips, hypnotized by him. Almost as soon as your fingers finished making their way around his lips, a hand suddenly shot out, grabbing your wrist, making you gasp in shock, the man staring at you.

     “Who are you and where am I?” he asked calmly, pushing himself up into a sitting position and looking around.

     “Y-Y/n, you’re on my island. Your… your ship must have been caught in the storm last night.” you said, biting your lip as you glanced briefly at the wreckage. 

     “The Victoria Punk and Kid wouldn’t be sunk that easily. This is likely the remains of the vessel we attacked.” he said simply. If you’d been unsure of his status as a pirate before, there were no longer any doubts as he continued looking around.

     The two of you soon found out that while his ship and his captain had made it out of the storm, their ship had been heavily damaged, leaving the blond stranded on your island until his captain repaired their ship. Until then, the blond, whose name you’d learned was Killer, was staying with you. Not that you minded terribly he was surprisingly kind to you, he was a good cook, and he was a surprisingly hospitable house guest. Looking out your window, you stared out at the beach. His captain was sure to have fixed the ship by now, right? And if he’d fixed the ship then that meant that Killer would be leaving soon… except you didn’t want him to leave. You’d grown attached to the pirate in the short time that he’d been staying with you. Every ship that you saw on the horizon had since become a source of anxiety, afraid that the next ship you saw would be the Victoria Punk. 

     “Are you alright?” a familiar voice asked from behind you, drawing you out of your thoughts. You looked over at Killer, hoping that the smile you were giving him didn’t look too forced.

     “Just thinking about when your ship will arrive. It’s been some time, I’m sure your captain has made repairs by now.” you said, telling him, at least some of, the truth. 

     “It depends on how bad the damages were. But I suppose it’ll be soon. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to no longer have a pirate in your home.” he said. Your brow furrowed as you tilted your head, you’d gotten to know him fairly well, well enough that he sounded… sorrowful?

     “I’ve… actually grown accustomed to your presence. It’ll be… lonely without you.” you admitted, looking away from the blond. Killer stared at you for a moment before walking over, stopping just in front of you. He was so close as he placed a hand under your chin, lifting your head to look at him.

     “Why do you look so upset? I thought having a pirate around was becoming troublesome.” he asked, thinking about how much trouble the people on your island had been giving you. You swallowed hard as you looked up at him, should you tell him how you felt? It might be your last chance to do so before his ship returned. And even if he rejected you, he’d leave soon, meaning that any awkwardness would only be temporary. Though that spoke nothing of the heartbreak you’d be suffering from.

     “I’m… I’m sad to see you go. I’ve grown… rather fond of you. I don’t care what the people here say, I… Killer, I don’t want you to go, I… I” you hesitated for a moment, “I love you.” you whispered, words barely loud enough for Killer to hear them. But he’d heard them and he knew he’d heard them correctly. You loved him, you were in love with him.

     “Look at me, Y/n.” he said sternly, making you open your eyes to look up into his own. Staring into your eyes, he forgot what he wanted to say for a moment, entranced by your beautiful eyes, “Come with me. I want to keep you by my side.” he said softly, his hand moving to caress your cheek, his rough palm against your soft skin. Part of you was at a loss for words, another part of you simply wanted to jump into his arms, and yet another wanted to tackle him as you repeated your answer again and again.

     “Killer I…” you hesitated once more, struggling with the words, “I… Just kiss me already, please.” you asked, his lips meeting yours not even a full second later. Instantly, you melted in his arms as he held you close, his lips pressed against yours in a passionate kiss. He almost didn’t pull away, even when air became a must, pulling back only long enough for you both to gulp down some oxygen before diving back in. The blond only stopped when it was clear you were becoming light headed, allowing you to catch your breath, both of you breathing heavily as you stood there, enjoying the moment.

     “I’m not giving you a choice anymore, Y/n. I’m a pirate, I’ll kidnap you if I must, but I can’t leave without you.” he said, the slightest hint of desperation in his voice, bubbling just under the surface. He’d never admit it to anyone but you or Kid, but he didn’t think he could live without you anymore, he had to have you by his side. 

     “You don’t need to go that far. I’ll go with you. I’ll gladly join you.” you said, smiling at him. He immediately pulled you in for another kiss, this one rougher than the first, though his passion was just as strong, as if attempting to drown you in his feelings for you. And you’d gladly let him so long as he stayed by your side, whether on your island or on the ocean, you’d stay with him. Of all the treasures you’d ever found on the beach, he was your favorite.

#one piece #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #one piece killer x reader #one piece killer #massacre soldier killer x reader

[myfriendpokey]

personal aesthetics

i'm often afraid to look directly at what i want, in case it scatters and disappears, maybe that's cowardly, i don't know. but i've always felt like, to get what you want through intelligence or hard work or talent is to diminish that thing somehow, to turn it into another empty token of the will. and that the only way things come with their original charge of desire intact is as a miracle, as specifically the one thing that we didn't dare to think about, didn't dare wish for.

---

so you can spend your time vamping, drawing circles around the magic incantation. and these circles can be interesting enough in themselves. you try something or find something once, and it works so you do it again, again and again, until it becomes a stock phrase, a familiar presence in the bag of tricks. and maybe over time it changes, maybe it becomes one of those things that passes far enough through familiarity that it becomes strange to us again, we pause and feel confused at how well our own hands seem to know these contours, maybe they start to wear away, or maybe we start to wear away ourselves, we have to do things differently, not being able to rely upon the old sharpness. so they develop their own histories. but it's a false history unless we somehow view it in tandem with that of their counterparts, the non-tools - whatever it was that couldn't be added to the bag, whatever we couldn't bring ourselves to try to fake.

---

i feel averse to art that has no dead parts, no listlessnesses, no flubs - "nothing but the best". as if meaning and value were so rare that they could never be left to chance. a paranoia that diminishes the thing it's trying to celebrate, converting it to yet another luxury good to be stockpiled by those of means or exquisite sensitivity. i think the only thing you can do when you run across the good is to let it go again. i think whatever you risk losing in doing so is balanced out by the beauty of the notion that there's always more to find.

---

i like lucidity in art because it's an acknowledgement of its own limits - a lucidity that means marking the points where lucidity itself can only stop talking and start to gesture.

---

art as a lucky dip bag that holds equal chance of turning out to contain a plastic whistle, two lollipops, a magic ring or somebody's hand.

---

i like irony because it's a way of holding two ideas at once. imagine i'm sad, so sad, so forlorn, so overcome with weighty despair that all i can do is throw up into a trash can. now imagine a member of janitorial staff finding it the next day and going what the fuck? by putting these things together with different levels of emphasis you can have as comic or as tragicomic an effect as you could like - or if you like you can hold them both at a remove, emphasising the broad scope of your own vision. but the kind of irony i am interested in is whatever could hold both these things in suspense - each one chafing against the other, holding off on final meaning as if waiting for the scales to tip, like a make-your-own-allegory kit where the final part rolled under the couch.

---

sometimes i think about the old idea that wanting anything is folly, is childish, that as soon as you get it you'll just want something else. and there's something to this, but i hate that smug moralism, that defensive incuriosity, and i feel drawn to people brave enough to continue wanting even knowing how futile it might be. so maybe the value in chasing something is in getting to want something else, layer after layer of discarded promise building up, becoming stranger, less straightforward, the path of your desire getting cluttered with your own debris, having to wind, become sidetracked - like the snake from "snake", growing longer as it eats apples(?) in the void, forever surprising its own body at odd angles, circling its own old movements. is this what william blake meant by "if a fool would persist in his knowledge he would become wise"?? see how long you can avoid self knowledge while eating fruit. eve simulator 2000.

in magic wand there's a part where you find the magic wand, this thinly sketched signpost for alterity, desire, and it makes a weird noise and then the world is changed, in a way it's hard to read as good or bad. certainly more cluttered - the plains outside are now covered in debris, gigantic heads and hands, pictures of the demiurge. there doesn't seem like much to choose from between these places, so maybe the only thing you've gained is to have seen them both, the old and new, and have the old slide a little further into memory, the secret alchemical medium that can absorb all contradictions.

---

i always feel like to represent something is to travesty it, to turn it into an icon of the unliving - that to put whatever you most cherish, love or friendship or whatever, into a work of art is like putting it inside the mouth of a corpse. if these have value it's as human things while art draws its lustre from being inhuman. that being said… there's something moving about the frozen and unproblematized emblems of pleasure that bob around the screen in a videogame, the hearts and blue skies, candy worlds and golden bells. they become moving because nobody believes in them anymore, because there's no insistence that these things might actually represent the good - they're harmless tokens, light as air. in the very indifference with which they seem to regard how near or far they might be from actual happiness there's something tensionless and dreamy, forgetful and beautiful. we might suspect that a secret substitution's taken place.

#lucky bag

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ep.1 thoughts

[Four Years and an Anime, Baby!!!]

(Contents: Ch.1 comparison, pacing, animation)

Note: For the sake of this review series, I'm going to avoid any overt references to the later events of the manga. Anything I have to say on that topic will be relegated to their own posts, so anime-onlys can read these too if they're so inclined

And we're off to a great start!!!

Easily the thing that I'm most excited about is the new intro, expanding on To You, From Me (Fuuko's manga, for those who didn't catch the name), which we got basically no information on in the original. I do think it's a little odd that the scene we saw doesn't resemble the one Fuuko is seen reading pretty much at all, but I do like what David Production is going for with it

As a long-time fan, I thought that intro was really cool, and bodes well for how David plans to adapt the manga going forward, likely expanding on or adding scenes that weren't present in the manga to help build atmosphere or context. However, my roommate, who is completely unfamiliar, was strongly confused and taken aback by the strange animation and surreal imagery, so I worry that this addition may be offputting to newcomers. Fingers crossed everyone can overlook that

Aside from that, the beats of chapter 1 are pretty much intact, though a lot of it was sadly truncated or removed for the sake of streamlining to fit the half-hour timeframe, which is to be expected even if it is a bit of a shame. I really loved Andy testing the limits of Unluck, keeping careful track of the relative size of the debris based on how long he touched Fuuko, but in the interest of time, skipping that and keeping the note about how it works is serviceable I suppose

I also think it's a little weird to have Andy and Fuuko alone at the bridge rather than drawing a crowd, especially since they're in such a crowded city, though I'm sure it's more cost-effective to only use the characters who matter instead of animating a bunch of nobodies milling about and being voiced by however many extras would be required. It picks up the pace, and gives way to a very funny reinterpretation of the events of the manga with Andy simply rocketing his head back to where he started instead of Fuuko going to the ground to inspect what she'd done

The most important moments, being the meeting, the haircut, and the battle, were all executed spectacularly, so the connecting moments in between being less than stellar is perfectly acceptable. I don't have any trouble believing that people will enjoy themselves watching this and be engaged enough to continue on

Andy's animations were very fluid and imaginative, I particularly loved the touch of him floating the knife on a jet of his blood rather than just balancing it on his finger while letting himself bleed. The blood on Andy's teeth evaporating after Fuuko stabbed him was also a great way to indicate how Undead works, whereas in the manga his teeth are just mysteriously clean a few panels later, potentially misleading readers into thinking that it's a continuity error. Oh, and Andy's body vanishing after he tosses his head to Fuuko? It's so clear that someone on this team is familiar with the source material, adding details that would logically be present even if the author didn't portray them in the original, which is great because Tozuka is already extemely detail-oriented

I will admit, I am not the biggest fan of the voice actors. I've never really liked Yuichi Nakamura too much, and I just don't think he's the best fit for Andy specifically. Moe Kahara is a pretty new actress, I believe, and she just sounds kind of...unrefined, I guess? I'm sure she'll grow on me, or she'll get more experienced and give a stronger performance as she goes, so I'm not going to write her off, I just thought she sounded a bit generic here. Whether that's a matter of skill or direction is also debatable, so again, I'm not going to rag on her too much

The opening theme, though played without the visuals as per usual with first episodes, sounded rad, and I'm super excited to see the full thing next week. I'm sad that I have to wait for it, but I'm more than happy enough with the episode itself that I don't mind

Overall, though I obviously have to say that the corresponding manga chapter is better, I greatly enjoyed the first episode and highly recommend it both to newcomers because it does a solid job in and of itself and to manga fans because it provides a nice new perspective on the source material. I'm pretty hard to please with this sort of thing, or rather pretty easy to disappoint, so for me to walk away with a strongly positive attitude is a huge mark in this adaptation's favor

Not only am I still excited to see how this anime goes going forward, my confidence in how well it's going to present the story I love so much has only gone up, so I can't call this episode anything other than a rousing success for me. I hope you all enjoyed it too, and I can't wait for episode two!!!

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #uu anime #4y1a reviews

[kai-and-their-mess]

Please Don't Go ('I Would Never' Ending)

kai again!!!! this picks up exactly where the main story left off so if you havent read that yet please do!!! same warnings apply.

Mizuki never was one to just… blindly obey. It had gotten her in trouble countless times. she would much rather get in trouble again. She was supposed to be an angel, how could she turn a blind eye to someone's suffering? someone's untimely demise? So once Yuki had closed his eyes, she wrapped him up in her wings. She abandoned the lyrics to the song she was singing in favor of pleas.

If she could just influence one thing, just- just this. Maybe she'll feel less like a failure, or a bystander. He was so young, it was unfair. She holds him close to her, fervent in her wishes. "...Please… it's not his time. He can't go like this. I refuse to let him just become…. space debris..." she sniffles, tears falling over Yuki's form. Its hopeless. There's no way she could change his story, not on her own, and no one else was willing to help her either.

As Yuki's time draws to a close, Mizuki starts to feel different. She opens her eyes; her wings were changing color. Mizuki feels her heart break at first, but she understands. She squeezes Mafuyu's hand in hers. "Hey…you really are going to make it. Help is on the way." She's not sure if he can hear her, but she knows his heart is still beating.

She plucks one of her still white wings before it can change color with the rest, pressing it into his hands. "I will stay with you, until I am no more" she smiles. This was her price to pay; the only choice she had left. She watches their surroundings, silently listing off facts about space to pass the time. By time the spaceship comes into view, there's not much time left. Not for her or for Yuki.

She places a hand on his chest. "I'm going to give you the last of my life force… so that I won't break my promises." she hesitates for a moment. She's never really given her life to someone before. She didn't know what to expect. oh well. She focuses on her life force and Yuki's heartbeat, trying her best to imagine and merge them into one.

When Yuki wakes up, he's in a hospital, an oxygen mask attached firmly to his face. Where was he...? He slowly turns to look around. Seems like he might be in a space station? He can see Shiho in a different bed, though he seems to be asleep. Fuyu feels…. exhausted. He just wants to find out where he is. As he starts to see if there's a nurse nearby, he notices a white feather in his hand. He's not fully sure why but the sight of it makes him cry; his heart overflowing with joy.

'Thank you, for staying with me.' he thinks, hoping that somehow, Mizuki will hear it. if she's real, that is. Though Yuki has a feeling that the angel he met will always be a part of him.

(thank you for reading until the end! i take constructive criticism even if it takes me forever to read it. this was hard to write, emotionally, but i really enjoyed it. please like if you enjoyed. in this ending its implied that the ship was able to find yuki and then they went to a space hospital where they all got patched up! called this ending 'i would never' cuz a part of mizuki now permanently lives on inside of mafuyu, kinda like they got soul merged or smth idk i also physically couldnt finish it until i thought up a happier ending)

#project sekai #project sekai colorful stage #akiyama mizuki #mizuki akiyama #asahina mafuyu #mafuyu asahina #mafumizu #mizumafu #transfem mizuki #transmasc mafuyu #brief shiho hinomori #brief transmasc shiho #angst #heavy angst #fan fiction #fanfic #implied character death

[kazscrows]

Six of Crows Reread🪶

Chapter 45: Kaz

The deal is the deal

Unfortunately everyone is a bloody liar

Why had he believed Van Eck had the blessing of the Merchant Council? Because he was a rich, upstanding mercher? Because he’d dressed his own servants and soldiers in the purple uniforms of the stadwatch? Kaz had met with Van Eck in a quarantined mercher’s house, not a government building, but he’d been taken in by a little set dressing. It was Hertzoon and his coffeehouse all over again, only now Kaz was old enough to know better.

Ouch

“Chaos will come, and I will be its master. Its very wealthy master.”

Could’ve been a banger of a line if it wasn’t from Van Eck

The little freak

Oh look we finally get to learn just how horrible a father he is

Van Eck began to laugh – a warm, almost jovial chuckle, but its edges were jagged and bitter.

“Let me tell you about my son.” He spat the word as if it were poison on his lips. “He was meant to be heir to one of the greatest fortunes in all of Kerch, an empire with shipping lines that reach all over the globe, one built by my father, and my father’s father. But my son, the boy meant to rule this grand empire, cannot do what a child of seven years can. He can solve an equation. He can paint and play the flute most prettily. What my son cannot do, Mister Brekker, is read. He cannot write. I have hired the best tutors from every corner of the world. I’ve tried specialists, tonics, beatings, hypnotism. But he refused to be taught. I finally had to accept that Ghezen saw fit to curse me with a moron for a child. Wylan is a boy who will never grow to be a man. He is a disgrace to my house.”

“The letters …” said Jesper, and Kaz could see the anger in his face. “You weren’t pleading with him to come back. You were mocking him.”

I volunteer to punch Jan Van Eck in the face!!

After Jesper and Wylan get the first swings in of course

Leverage number one doesn’t work out quite like Kaz had imagined

But of course he has a backup plan

If you’re reading this, then you know how much I wish to have you home. Every letter had been a slap in the face to Wylan, a kind of cruel joke.

“He’s your son,” Jesper said.

“No, he is a mistake. One soon to be corrected.”

So so cruel

Doesn’t he have any love inside of him?

“You’re the fool,” Jesper snarled. “He’s smarter than most of us put together, and he deserves a better father than you.”

YEAH YOU TELL HIM JESPER!!

The Tidemakers didn’t hesitate. Before anyone could draw breath to protest, two huge walls of water rose and shot towards the Ferolind. They crushed the ship between them with a resonant boom, sending debris flying.

Jesper screamed in rage and raised his guns.

“Jesper!” Kaz commanded. “Stand down!”

“He killed them,” Jesper said, face contorted. “He killed Wylan and Nina!”

Poor Jesper…

This scene will be so intense in the spin-off

Please

I need it—

Jesper looked back at the rocking waves, at the broken bits of mast and torn sail where a ship had been only seconds before. “I don’t … I don’t understand.”

“I confess to being a bit shocked, too, Mister Brekker,” said Van Eck. “No tears? No righteous protests for your lost crew? They raise you cold in the Barrel.”

“Cold and cautious,” said Kaz.

Even more cautious than you realize

I can’t remember my initial reaction to this part exactly but I’m pretty sure I figured Kaz would have tricks up his sleeve

Like there was no way Nina and “Wylan” were killed off after everything and with only a chapter to go

Plus I knew there was a second book

“I don’t need to take him from you. You never had him. That’s not Kuwei Yul-Bo.”

“A sorry bluff at best.”

“I’m not big on bluffing, am I, Inej?”

“Not as a rule.”

Van Eck’s lip curled. “And why is that?”

“Because he’d rather cheat,” said the boy who was not Kuwei Yul-Bo in perfect, unaccented Kerch.

Van Eck startled at the sound of his voice, and Jesper flinched.

The Shu boy held out a hand. “Pay up, Kaz.”

Kaz sighed. “I do hate to lose a wager. You see, Van Eck, Wylan bet me that you would have no qualms about ending his life. Call me sentimental, but I didn’t believe a father could be so callous.”

Please I forget they literally bet on this 😂😭😭

Also the fact that Kaz asked Inej and the fact that she knows he actually is big on bluffing

He trusts her so much!

She knows all his secrets

And she’ll never betray him

I mean he uses this trick at least three times in this series

Bluffing/lying/cheating to scare someone is Kaz’s favorite tactic

Oh… oh but this makes Jesper flinching at the reveal super painful

Kaz trusted Inej to know about Wylan and Kuwei swapping places, but he didn’t trust Jesper….

He probably did it to get a genuine reaction from Jesper as well but the trust issue thing is definitely there too

Kaz could see the fear and hurt in his golden eyes – Wylan’s surprising courage, too.

After the battle in the Djerholm harbour, the merchling had come to Kaz to warn him that he couldn’t be used as leverage against his father. Wylan had been red-faced, barely able to speak the words of his supposed ‘affliction’. Kaz had only shrugged. Some men were poets. Some were farmers. Some were rich merchers. Wylan could draw a perfect elevation. He’d made a drill that could cut through Grisha glass from parts of a gate and scavenged bits of jewellery. So what if he couldn’t read?”

It’s been said before but I’ll say it again

It’s really beautiful how Kaz doesn’t judge others on their flaws

“There could be no judgment from a boy known as Dirtyhands” -chapter 20

He looks for the best part of every individual and makes that part of them shine

Or he finds some way for them to be useful at least

Kaz shrugged. “Kill us, and you’ll never find Kuwei.”

Van Eck appeared to consider this. Then he stepped back. “Guards to me!” he shouted. “Kill everyone but Brekker!”

Kaz knew the instant he made his mistake. They’d all known it might come to this. He should have trusted his crew. His eyes should have stayed trained on Van Eck. Instead, in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej.

This line oh my gosh—

KaNej—

And Van Eck saw it. He blew on his whistle. “Leave the others! Get the money and the girl.”

Do you hear that?

No?

Well it’s me screaming

He tries to run to protect her!!

Please I am SOBBING 😭

“The Tidemakers reached her first, vanishing into mist, then reappearing at her side. But only a fool would to try to take Inej in close combat. The Tidemakers were fast – vanishing and reappearing, grabbing at her. But she was the Wraith, and her knives found heart, throat, spleen. Blood spilled over the sand as the Tidemakers collapsed in two very solid heaps.

She’s so cool

Oh my gosh

they had to face the sun to shoot and not even Jesper could aim blind.

Hmm.. this is interesting

I don’t think the show follows this statement

Jesper has literally shot without looking several times

The Squaller barrelled into Inej and sped upwards with her into the sky.

Stay still, Kaz urged her silently, his pistol drawn.

Something about Kaz with a gun just make me so…

So…. Hnnnnnnngh

It’s hot, okay?

AND THEN SHE’S FALLING

AND HE TRIES TO RUN TO HER AGAIN!!

Ashjfssfhjvsadh—

A third Squaller swooped down, snatching her up seconds before impact and dealing her a vicious blow to the skull. Kaz saw Inej’s body go limp.

“Bring him down!” roared Matthias.

“No!” shouted Kaz. “Shoot him and she falls, too!”

He can’t watch her fall…

It terrifies him

…. “Why the net, Kaz?”

Some hints for later I see??

But now she’s gone-

There was nothing they could do but stand there like fools and watch her shape get smaller in the sky – a distant moon, a fading star, then gone.

There and then gone…

Just like the magic trick

Just like Jordie..

But he can get her back!

Vengeance for Jordie, all Kaz had worked for, was slipping away. He didn’t care…

…“Kaz, I can make the shot,” said Jesper, rifle to his shoulder. “Van Eck is still in range.”

And all would be lost – Inej, the money, everything.

“No,” Kaz said. “Let them go.”

Inej is his first thought

He values her more than his revenge

He felt as he had looking into the darkened windows of the house on Zelverstraat. Helpless once more. He’d prayed to the wrong god.

It hurts 😭

Kaz marvelled at his own stupidity. Dumber than a pigeon fresh off the boat and looking to make a fortune on East Stave. His greatest vulnerability had been right beside him. And now she was gone.

Poor Kaz

He’s so hard on himself

Love isn’t a weakness!!

😭😭😭

The idea of “there and then gone” keeps coming up though and I love and hate it!

“That’s why you disappeared during the journey,” said Jesper. “You weren’t helping Matthias care for Nina. You were hiding.”

“I didn’t hide.”

“You … how many times was it you standing beside me on the deck at night when I thought it was Kuwei?”

“Every time.”

“Nina might not be able to put you back, you know. Not without another dose of parem. You could be stuck like this.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know!” Jesper said angrily. “Maybe I liked your stupid face.”

See I told you it was Wylan

I say this like I haven’t read these books like five times already

I’m actually here for angry Jesper??

I want more strong emotions from him in the show

He turned to Matthias. “You knew. Wylan knew. Inej knew. Everyone but me.”

“Ask me why, Jesper,” Kaz said, his patience at an end.

Here comes pain

It hurts because it was an accident

Jesper would never willfully betray the other crows

This echos the opening scene of the book with Big Bolliger a little

Just this time the betrayal wasn’t on purpose

“You told one of the Dime Lions you were leaving Kerch, but that you’d be coming into big money, didn’t you?”

Jesper swallowed. “I had to. They were leaning on me hard. My father’s farm—”

“I told you not to tell anyone you were leaving the country. I warned you to keep your mouth shut.”

“I didn’t have a choice! You had me locked up in the Crow Club before we left. If you’d let me—”

Kaz turned on him. “Let you what? Play a few hands of Three Man Bramble? Dig yourself deeper in with every boss in the Barrel stupid enough to extend you credit? You told a member of Pekka’s gang you were about to be flush.”

“I didn’t know he’d go to Pekka. Or that Pekka knew about parem. I was just trying to buy myself some time.”

“Saints, Jesper, you really haven’t learned anything in the Dregs, have you? You’re still the same dumb farm boy who stepped off the boat.”

Is he talking about Jesper here or himself…

Hmmmmmmmm…?

“Kaz would always remember that moment, when he’d seen greed take hold of his brother, an invisible hand guiding him onward, the lever at work.”

Remember that quote from chapter 18?

Yeah.

Kaz is definitely thinking about Jordie when he looks at Jesper and his gambling problem

Jesper lunged for him, and Kaz felt a surge of giddy violence. Finally, a fight he could win. But Matthias stepped between them, holding them each back with a massive hand. “Stop. Stop this.”Kaz didn’t want to stop. He wanted to beat them all bloody and then brawl his way through the Barrel.

This man does have a tendency to get into fights a lot

He’s always coming back bloody during their heists and schemes

Anyways-

They’re so brothers

Kaz wants to see Jesper as his big brother but he keeps letting him down…

Just like Jordie did—

For now, there was nothing but the flat grey of the sky and the dead rock of this miserable excuse for an island. And Inej’s absence. Kaz wanted to hit someone. He wanted someone to hit him.

I’m sure Jesper would happily deck you if you let him

If Kaz was their leader, then Inej had been their lodestone, pulling them together when they seemed most likely to drift apart.

I love this comparison

Inej holds them all together!!

According to that deleted scene we got today she’s their heart!! 💕

Nina had disguised Kaz’s crow-and-cup tattoo before they’d entered the Ice Court, but he hadn’t let her near the R on his bicep. Now he touched his gloved fingers to where the sleeve of his coat covered that mark. Without meaning to, he’d let Kaz Rietveld return.

He didn’t know if it had begun with Inej’s injury or that hideous ride in the prison wagon, but somehow he’d let it happen and it had cost him dearly.

I think he started coming back even sooner than that…

I want him to let Rietveld free but at least he’s making a plan

Also give us Kaz’s tattoos netflix!!!!

“Scheming face,” murmured Jesper.

“Definitely,” agreed Wylan.

Matthias folded his arms. “Digging in your bag of tricks, demjin?”

I love it

Kaz wants to go after Inej alone!

But he knows he’ll need help

“I’ll need the right crew.”

“Wylan got to his feet. “For the Wraith.”

Jesper followed, still not meeting Kaz’s eyes. “For Inej,” he said quietly.

Matthias gave a single sharp nod.

They all love Inej so much 🥹

Inej had wanted Kaz to become someone else, a better person, a gentler thief. But that boy had no place here. That boy ended up starving in an alley. He ended up dead. That boy couldn’t get her back.

No!

He can survive now!!

He has friends! A family!!!

Though… I guess he does need Dirtyhands Brekker for what comes next..

I’m going to get my money, Kaz vowed. And I’m going to get my girl.

YEAH YOU ARE

THAT’S MY MAN!!!

WRECK HIS PLANS—

Inej could never be his, not really, but he would find a way to give her the freedom he’d promised her so long ago.

He really loves her

Enough to let her go 🥹

It’s heartbreaking

Dirtyhands had come to see the rough work done.

Aaaannnd that wraps it for the Crows! Just Pekka’s chapter left!!

First | Previous | Next

#here we go! I’m finally posting!! #gosh it’s so long #was this the longest one yet? #I really really love this chapter though #it’s just so good!! #six of crows #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #nina zenik #matthias helvar appreciation #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #grishaverse #shadow and bone netflix #soc #books #reading #leigh bargudo #kazscrows #kazscrowsreadssoc

[missingbk-dkhours]

preview of untitled work

….

Izuku had never looked at the sky before. 

It was far too broad. Too far. And it changed. Blue one hour. Pink the next. Then black. Sometimes… Water fell from the sky. Sometimes, stars. Sometimes, clouds. Izuku couldn’t touch the clouds. That’s why he knew he couldn’t swim in the sky. He would fall right through it.

Izuku had never swam in the sky before.

He opened his eyes, and stars fell from them.

The sky was actually quite beautiful.

Izuku sat up. He turned his head. Grass. Grass. Grass… Grass. Grass. And a gray sky. Where am I? He looked at the ground again. And he realized that this must be some sort of dream. Because the grass was rolling. And as the taller grass scraped against his skin and brushed his hair and tickled his face, he realized that the rolling grass was moving him. Where to? He had no idea. So he sat, crisscrossed, and faced in the direction of his destination.

Izuku couldn’t recall exactly what he had been doing before this dream. His mind only filled with images of Shigaraki attacking him and of Izuku fighting back. There had been… an explosion of light, but that wasn’t what had knocked him out. No, because he remembered seeing Shigaraki lying unconscious on the ground. He remembered gasping and heaving and finally feeling relief. He’d heard Uraraka calling his name. 

And he’d seen her smile fall as the battleground was engulfed in a cloud of dust and a building fell behind her.

Izuku craned his head up and blinked slowly at the sky, which was not too unlike that wave of debris. What happened after that? Maybe he had passed out from exhaustion. Had his muscles ever ached like they did after that fight? He swore he remembered hearing his bones creak. Izuku let his head down and looked around.

The grass was shorter in some spots. He could barely see above the taller grass. He squinted his eyes. But all there was beyond the rolling grass were meadowy hills. Like those from a children’s drawing. Nostalgia tugged at his heart, plucked and pinched it, but Izuku’s eyelids lowered, relaxed. The feeling of unburdened innocence welcomed after fighting nearly to death.

His shoulders slumped as he tilted his head up again, peering at the clouds in the sky. Like dull pieces of cotton drifting aimlessly against a dull canvas. Izuku watched as the sky turned from a sad, cornflower blue to a mellow navy when it caught sight of his figure. The first of many stars gasped into existence. The sight pulled at his lips, and Izuku breathed out a light chuckle. 

Despite nighttime approaching, the sky had woken up and woken up.

This is weird… this is a weird dream.

It wasn’t long before the grass slowed down to a stop and the taller grass shortened in size. A playground. Izuku squinted his eyes at the distant sight. The playground in this dream was the same one a few blocks down from his apartment. What am I doing here--

He glanced up at the sky. Had it called to him? 

Probably, since the moon had wanted his attention. 

You have it. 

The moon, having heard him, fell. 

It fell.

What the hell?! I’m going to die! 

But to his relief, the moon ended her journey just a ways above the playground. It wasn’t the end of the world, yet. Izuku groaned and grasped at his chest, urging his heart to calm down. He observed the small park. All the same. All the same. All the same, as it had been in his toddlerhood. His eyes last wandered to the swings. And that’s when Izuku saw him. Illuminated by the moonlight. 

Izuku scrambled to his feet and ran. 

He ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and- hold on. Let him catch his breath. 

And ran and ran and ran and ran and- “Kacchan!”

“Kacchan!” Izuku skidded to a halt in front of the boy on the swing. “Kacchan?! I lost you! I was fighting Shigaraki, and then you left, and then I knocked him down, and then I collapsed! And you- you! Where did you go?? Where- where did you… go?... Ah.” Izuku blinked. The boy in front of him stared back with wide eyes. The ruby in them stretched endlessly, incredulously. And Izuku giggled. “Wait, Kacchan. You’re in my dream. You are my dream. You don’t know where you went. Because I don’t know where you went.” He took the swing to Kacchan’s right. “You. You are a figment of my imagination.”

Silence.

For a solid second, before,

Beside him Katsuki laughed, shaking his head at the ground. The stars! The stars cascaded once more. “Oh, Izuku, I wish that were the case- Oh, hey, you’re cry-- I mean, the stars. They’re falling.”

Izuku wiped his cheeks, embarrassed, thinking back to before. Who was he to judge the sky, when stars fell from him, too? “I-I’m sorry.” He looked over to the merry-go-round. Spinning on its own. “It’s just-- I’ve never heard you laugh. Not that I can remember, at least, and it’s been so long since I’ve had time to…” The kids will come and play with you tomorrow… “to, uh… repose.”

Katsuki scoffed. “So you’re crying tears of joy because you realize I’m not some humorless asshole.”

Izuku turned to look at his friend

Izuku turned to look at his rival

Izuku turned to look at his best friend

Izuku turned to look at his

Izuku turned to look at his classmate and leaned on one of the swing’s chains. The one closer to Katsuki. “You wish that were the case?… You’re not a figment of my imagination.”

Katsuki shook his head. “I’m real. We’re sharing a dream… It’s real fuckin’ weird, huh?” Izuku cautiously raised his hand to pat Katsuki’s shoulder. He stared where his fingers touched before raising his gaze. The gesture earned an amused frown from Katsuki. 

I don’t find it hard to believe… that I could imagine your every detail, Kacchan.  “How do you know that we’re sharing a dream?” “I just do. Also, you can’t know by touching me, stupid. You’re literally on an imaginary swing.” Katsuki handed him a glass of water. “Here. And now you’re holding an imaginary glass. If you want, I can show you proof that we’re in a dream.”

“Thanks... for the water. All that running left me thirsty.” 

“You ran? You could’ve gotten here faster if you’d just walked.”

Izuku gasped as he brought the glass away from his mouth. The soda had tasted just as it had when he was a kid. But as the last drop fizzled off his tongue, the thought left his mind. The feeling lost forever. That wasn’t supposed to happen.  “What proof?”

He surely imagined it, but for a second, the sky had blushed pink. A precious pink.

“On the bottom drawer of my desk, I have some pictures. The third to last picture is of me going to watch the All Might: The Movie premiere. You don’t know about it, but I do. When you wake up, that’s going to be there. It looks like this.”

Izuku took the picture. Oh. I’m in it. “Hey, I’m in it.” 

In the picture, Izuku stood timidly beside Katsuki. Putting his hands in his pockets and rocking on his feet while his childhood friend struck a superhero pose and flashed a smile. Izuku remembered that day. Earlier, they had been chasing butterflies. Trapping them. Gawking at them. Releasing them. Wishing on them. Katsuki had hugged him at one point. But Izuku couldn’t remember why. Later, they’d met up in the park with their mothers. On the way to the movies, Kacchan’s mother insisted on the two of them taking a photo. The way mothers did. And so they took a picture. After the movie ended, the two had parted ways, but not before Katsuki had said… had said… he… Actually, Izuku couldn’t remember what he’d said. The memory erased, overshadowed, by Izuku being diagnosed as quirkless the day after. 

Izuku felt his smile tremble, so he bit his wobbly lip, continuing to stare fondly at the photo.

Katsuki nodded, nearly peering over Izuku’s shoulder to also examine the picture. “Yeah… I found it when I was packing my things before moving into the dorms.”

Green eyes peeked through thick eyelashes as Izuku turned to face Katsuki. “Why’d you bring it with you?”

Katsuki shrugged, his cheek pressing against the chain of his swing. “It’s, uh, a good picture of me.”

Izuku’s laughter echoed in the empty playground. “You were very cute.”

Nodding along with Izuku’s comment, Katsuki grazed his fingers over Izuku’s crooked hands as he took then pocketed the photo. “Yeah… Hey, do you remember what I told you at the end of that day?”

Creak…. Creak…

The sighing of a see-saw drew Izuku’s attention. Every tilt of its spring, the toy wheezed pitifully. Izuku gaped at the tragic sight. 

The stubborn struggle to… play.

“No… I don’t remember.” Izuku’s eyes flickered back to Katsuki.

“I said… ‘Once you get whatever lame quirk you end up with, we’ll be able to stop all the villains-- like All Might.’” Katsuki stared off into the distance, where the grass rolled, before turning to gaze at Izuku. “If only I had waited 10 years, huh? If only I had known that were to come true.”

Izuku leaned back and forward and back and forward again, swinging. “Hm… Yeah, it’s a shame. But what’s important is that it came true. Also, Kacchan,” Izuku dug the tip of his shoe into the bark and softened his face as he met Katsuki’s eyes. “Four-year-olds don’t tend to be too patient.”

“I guess so,” Katsuki grumbled. “ I am glad… I’m glad that it came true.”

“Not at first, you weren’t. You were all like ‘Aghhh! Stupid Deku!’ It was petrifying. I’m not kidding.”

“Was it that bad? Really?... Yeah. You’re right. It was that bad. I hated your guts.”

“You really did…”

“Nerd, d’you think we could fit on the slides? It’s been ages since I’ve been on one. You probably could-- fit, I mean. You’re fucking minuscule.”

With an indignant scoff, Izuku whipped his head to see a wide smirk on Katsuki’s lips. “Kacchan, I’m just  a couple inches shorter than you.”

Katsuki leaped off the swing and stood a step off Izuku. “What was that? ‘Yes, Kacchan. I’m shorter than you. Only a couple inches tall.’ Deku, I do believe you're understating your height… by a couple millimeters!”

“Kacchan, I think I’m too old for slides. But you seem childish enough.” Izuku chided, his heart palpating at a quick pace. Witty banter was a novel situation for him and his… his… his friend, and it invoked a new sort of happiness in him. A warmth that rose from a newfound closeness. And excitement. An eagerness to keep poking fun.

Just to hear him laugh again.

“Damn you, Deku.” Katsuki hugged his shoulders as they shook. “Come on, already. Let’s see what this dream has in store for us.” He hooked his index finger on Izuku’s swing, tugging it as he walked past, heading the opposite direction Izuku was facing.

Izuku stood, turning to face his parting friend. “Kacchan.” His knuckles paled as he clung to the rusting chain of the swing. Please… He held his breath ‘til red eyes greeted his green. “Why not stay here? I- I like this playground. Kacchan, don’t you remember? It’s where we used to play as kids.”

Katsuki’s eyes roamed around Izuku’s body, inspecting the playground equipment. The paint chipped away with every brush of wind. It’d dull yellows, reds, blues, and greens almost shimmered under the moon’s vast glow. 

Please.

“I know. But there’s more shit to see.” A solemn appearance swept over Katsuki’s features. He turned on his heel, pacing away from Izuku once more.

And the world blurred. And blurred. Blurred. With every step Katsuki took, everything around his frame, everything else in Izuku’s vision flooded in a black looming cloud. 

“Kacchan…” His voice vibrated unfamiliar, shuddering with a fear Izuku had never suffered through before. It slashed through the heavy air, the whisper of a ghastly sob. Izuku didn’t wait to see Katsuki’s body immediately stiffen at the sound. His feet pounded, and when he finally reached his childhood friend, Izuku buried his face into Katsuki’s back.

A droning filled the breathless air. Goosebumps rose on Izuku’s arm to match the rumbling of the noise. A high-pitched ringing played alongside it. But there was no harmony. No dissonance. It was just noise. Dizzying, violent, revolting.

It was quiet.

“...Izuku.” Katsuki lolled his head back to rest it atop Izuku’s. “I know… But we have to go.” He tore himself from the green bed of hair and pointed towards the moon. “We have until the moon falls to wake up.”

Izuku blinked, nodding his head upward for the moon’s confirmation. “But- but how long will that be?”

“Hell if I know, Deku.” Katsuki gently grasped Izuku’s chin, drawing Izuku’s attention back down. “Just follow me, okay?”

#bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk fic #bkdk fic rec #bakudeku fic rec #bakudeku fanfic #bkdk fanfic #decchan #dkbk #mha #bnha

[gamerbearmira]

I’ve just thought of a AU that included ghosts and time travel because those two things are cool :D

The idea is that instead of just Isabela, Camilo and Mirabel going to save the candle, ALL the grandchildren try to save it. Even little Antonio tries to help because he sees his older siblings and Mirabel running to get the candle.

Just like the actual film, Isabela, Dolores, Luisa, Camilo and Antonio all fail to reach the candle but Mirabel gets the candle and is pushed off the roof by casita and is met with the others at the bottom of the stairs. Also just like in the movie, Bruno’s tower falls down right where all the grandkids are huddled together. But this time, casita doesn’t have enough time to gather enough items to shield every grandkid and all the debris from Bruno’s tower fall right on them, killing them :).

In an attempt to save itself, the miracle uses the last of its power and decides to send the souls of Isabela, Dolores, Luisa, Camilo, Mirabel and Antonio to the past. To the day after Mirabel’s ceremony, to the day after the miracle truly started to break. The miracle wants them to chance the past and try repair the damage caused by Alma. To save the miracle

The ghost!grandkids all decide the best way to do this is to show the younger grandkids what happy lives they could have (what childhoods they wished they had) if they stopped trying to please Alma and the village because if Mirabel showing Isabela that being herself and being happy healed some of the cracks then surely it’ll help save the miracle if their younger selves did the same.

G!Isabela showing Y!Isabela that she is more then just a doll for Alma to mold by getting her to express herself with her gift and hobbies that Alma didn’t like.

G!Dolores telling Y!Dolores that ‘being quiet’ is not good for her and that she should be free to express what she’s feeling and what her opinions are. That just because she hears everything Alma shouldn’t tell her to keep her words to herself.

G!Mirabel (and the rest of the G!grandkids) comforting Y!Mirabel and telling her that she is just as special as the rest of the family. That perhaps if someone else besides her parents tells her that she’s just as special she might actually believe it and won’t grow up with self esteem issues.

Stuff like this is what they teach their younger selves. Now I don’t know what Antonio will do, perhaps this goes on for years and Y! Antonio is born and now has G!Antonio for a friend or Antonio is just hanging around with the others

I think sooner or later, Alma is going to try and squash this ‘little rebellion’ that the Y!grandkids have going on. Try and figure out why they are suddenly not listening to her. Assuming that they are closer with each other because they’re teaming up in this rebellion against the town and family. The G!grandchildren aren’t going to like this :)

OH?!?!?!

OK, one, this broke my heart, the babies </3 and two, this so actually pretty intriguing!

Maybe the Young kids think of them as imaginary firends who happen to be ten years older than them, hence why the adults never really stopped them. They were still kids after all. But as they got older ams the young kids started to rebel, they started getting suspicious.

They were kids, so they let it slide. But now all the sudden, they're so much different. They won't take on certain chores, they play around a lot more, they get into trouble more often, just generally more rowdy, free even. They had even gotten little toddler Antonio in on it, and he's 2 1/2!

Even Casita is more...stubborn. The house usually followed most of Alma's orders, almost without hesitation. But ever since the week after Mirabel's ceremony, the house has been different ever since. It felt even more alive than before, if that makes sense.

Then again, all of those drawings of older, slightly tattered and transparent versions of them might be making a bit more sense. They must have been forming from kind of revolution against Alma and by extension, the family...right?

#encanto #encanto au #au #my asks are open #my asks #encanto mirabel #encanto antonio #encanto dolores #encanto isabela #encanto Luisa #encanto camilo #encanto alma #ghost grandchildren au

[fireflylitsky]

Another beautiful gift from my lovely and skilled art friend without socials, so I post this on her behalf. We are probably the only two MadaKaku shippers on the planet, but PLEASE prove me wrong XD Loosely inspired by the snippet below featuring young buck Kakuzu just after his defeat by Hashirama when he meets Madara for the first time (and hates him) Rating: E Word Count: 680 Characters: Madara, Kakuzu

Kakuzu lies still, the coldness of the river is not quite enough to numb the pain of defeat, but it does something for his wounds. That will have to do. He’s washed up onto an embankment, and for a while he just exists there like any of the stones and waterlogged debris around him. 

Returning to his village after failing to defeat Senju Hashirama is not something he wishes to do, but after an appropriate amount of wallowing, he decides it is time. Dying would have been easier, but here he is, pushing to his feet with a grunt.

“Finally. I was beginning to think he actually killed you.” The unfamiliar voice comes from behind. It is deep and low and has an obnoxious amount of arrogance lofting it up. 

Turning to look, ready to snap, the growl building in the back of his throat catches there and he halts. “Uchiha Madara,” he realizes aloud from appearance alone. 

"Oh good, so you know who I am," Madara says with casual relief. "That saves me some time.”

Though they’ve never met, Kakuzu knows enough–what he looks like, his bond with the Hokage–and he can only come to one conclusion about his presence here and now. “Come to finish the job then?”

To his absolute anger and puzzlement, this man actually laughs. It's not exactly malicious, but it's plenty to pit some fresh rage in Kakuzu's gut. Madara doesn't seem to notice or care about that though, he just shakes his head and pushes off the tree he’s been leaning against. “If only,” he sighs, “but no. He sent me to check on you, actually."

Kakuzu makes a noise of disgust. His defeat was dishonorable enough, this is just getting ridiculous. The last thing he wants is the Senju sending his Uchiha dog to check up on him.

"Putting you up against the Hokage like that?" Madara pauses to draw out a long whistle at the apparent severity of this. "Someone definitely wants you dead," he points out matter-of-factly, examining his nails.

Scowling, Kakuzu takes a challenging step towards him, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg. “I was chosen for my strength.”

"No," Madara says, slow to tear his attention away from the hangnail he's picking at, but when finally meets Kakuzu's gaze, he smiles as some mockery of sympathy. “You weren’t. You were chosen to die.”

Kakuzu is certain he will never meet anyone more infuriating in his lifetime. “What do you care, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s not so much that I care,” he muses. “Hashirama, well… he can be quite curious. As for me, let’s call it bored.”

Far from how he envisioned this night going, Kakuzu takes a moment to stare and process. “So you’re not upset with the fact that I tried to assassinate him?”

“Heavens no.” He's positively flippant and there's that smug look again, like Kakuzu could not be any less of a threat as he folds his arms over his chest plate with a shrug. “It was a cute try, don’t get me wrong, but no. I wasn’t exactly worried, Kakuzu."

Kakuzu just stares back with a dumb, blank expression because never in his life has he been spoken to like this. Before he can even think of a response beyond some feral growling, Madara is goading him again. 

"Do I have that right? It is Kakuzu, no?”

If the flaring of his nostrils and clenched fists at his sides are any indication, Kakuzu is, in a word, mad.

"Calm down," Madara offers with a sigh that verges on laughter, stepping closer. "I know you're angry. I would be too. I almost am for you." He pauses and smiles, not in any friendly way, taking note of Kakuzu's deep set scowl. "Almost."

"Keep your pity, Uchiha," Kakuzu manages to grit through his teeth. 

"You know who I am," Madara says. "Then you should also know that I don't give pity often. So enjoy it, really. Think of it as my gift to you."

Every word that comes out of this man's mouth makes Kakuzu want to end him.

#Kakuzu #Madara #MadaKaku #Not My Art #But I love it #Enemies To Lovers AU #Please I love them #Kakuzu would hate him so much how would they even work??? #they just would okay? #Maybe Hashirama can watch idk #firefly writing #Firefly Snippets

[anakinskywalkerog]

The Jedi and the Loth Rat (Episode 6)

Kanan Jarrus x Padawan!Reader

Link to Episode 5

Warnings: Fluffiest fluff you've ever seen. This episode is a squishmallow. Also, some necessary Chosen One bullshit. Teeny bit o Kanan angst. But mostly, very very romancey vibes. I won't spoil it.

Summary: You, distraught about your relationship with Kanan, meditate seeking answers. Kanan and the rest of the ghost crew make a startling discovery about you and your connection to the Sith. (I hope the end of this reads as cinematic as it felt when I wrote it).

Word Count: 5k

Rest, you thought to yourself dryly, yeah, right. You paced around your quarters at the Atollon base, anxiety ruminating around the room, bouncing off the walls and growing in your tense presence. It had been almost 24 hours since Sabine and Kanan had left to join Hera, Zeb, and Chopper on their mission to contact Fulcrum, and though you were sure everything was fine, and that they would eventually return, you hadn't been able to sleep at all since they'd been gone.

         The way Kanan had looked at you; the fear you had felt in his presence, the reluctance to regard you; the coldness in his voice as he had turned away from you. You replayed all of it in your head, even though you knew you shouldn't. You knew that you should distance yourself from Kanan as much as possible, in the Force and also in real life, but you couldn't help thinking through every small detail of your only interaction with him since you and him had connected fully via the Force. You couldn't help but want him, even now; even though he knew the truth, even though there were no more secrets; even though you had intuited the rejection in his presence with every fiber of your being, a tiny part of you still had hope. You still wanted to be close to him, to be near him, even if it meant this kind of torture, even if it meant cold, feeling-less words spoken to you from his mouth. You hated this aspect of yourself—you had never before been in love, let alone so in love that you were willing to waste away, just to be close to someone, just to hear their voice. You didn't want to feel this way. You wanted to be strong, as a Jedi and as a person. You didn't want to give everything up just because you loved him.

         I won't, then, you told yourself, and your feelings gave you a burst of strength, of inspiration. I am a Jedi, you told yourself. The Force is with me.

         You stopped pacing and kneeled in front of your bed, preparing to meditate, drawing in a deep breath. You commanded every part of self to leave your mind, every thought, every base desire and selfish fear. You were one with the Force.

         What must I do?  you asked, and the Force answered.

"We're coming up on Fulcrum's ship," Zeb said, leaning through Kanan's open door on the Ghost. "Hera says we'll be emerging from hyperspace in about fifteen minutes."

         Kanan nodded in recognition, but said nothing. He was laying on his bunk, a position unusual for him during the waking hours. He was usually overactive during missions, checking on the ship, checking on their coordinates, going over the plan with each crew member, again and again. Now, instead of action, all he felt was inaction, his body fully in stasis, his mind feeling numb. He used his hand to float loose screws from the floor up toward the ceiling. He didn't have many possessions in this sparse room, other than his lightsaber and his holocron. He had followed the old ways of the Jedi, because they were all he had known. He had thought they were correct. He had thought he had been doing right by you. He floated the debris with ease as his mind turned sour, his thoughts trying hard not to dwell on you. He didn't meditate, for fear he would accidentally connect with you again, and have to experience your feelings of fear. Fear of him.

         The way you had flinched when he touched you...he couldn't stand it. He didn't understand all the ways of the Force, but he knew enough of trauma to understand that you now associated him with the pain you had felt at the hands of the Grand Inquisitor. And you should—you both knew it was because of him that you'd been tortured. Floating the screws and focusing in on his own guilt, Kanan's consciousness dove deeper into this hopeless feeling, the despair at knowing you would never feel safe with him again, that you would always connect him with that electric shock—that you now feared him as much as you did your shared enemies.

         "Okay, enough," Sabine said from the doorway.

         "How long have you been standing there?" Kanan said in a flat voice, letting the floating screws fall to the floor with a clatter. It wasn't often that people could sneak up on him, but his mind had been so numb, so fuzzy, that it surprised him to learn he had an audience.

         "Long enough," Sabine replied, entering Kanan's chambers and pressing the button to shut the door. Kanan sat up, turning to face her.

         "I'm done with the moping, Kanan. We all are." She leaned against the shut door, looking down at Kanan, who sat on his bed with his hands on his knees. "You've been a wreck—a ball of anxiety one moment, and practically comatose the next. This isn't you."

         "I'll be ready for the mission, same as always," Kanan replied, feeling annoyed at her scolding, this role reversal unfamiliar to him.

         "This isn't about the mission, Kanan," Sabine said, exasperated. "This is about Y/N."

         "What about Y/N?" Kanan asked quietly, as if Sabine didn't already know way more than he wanted her to. Kanan had meant this question to come out defiant, but when he made eye contact with Sabine, it broke the tension—Kanan's feelings for you were so obvious to the whole crew that his feigned ignorance made the corners of Sabine's mouth twitch. She looked away, trying not to laugh.

         "Look," Sabine said with more affection, calming her tone and looking back at Kanan. "I don’t understand the Force, all right? I don't understand at all why you're so...upset. I don't know what's going on between you and Y/N. But I do know that by some miracle, we saved her—she's safe! Whatever is going on in your head, you need to snap out of it. Become the Kanan we know and love." Sabine dipped her head forward a bit, raising her eyebrows. "You have to tell her how you feel."

         Kanan sighed. "It isn't that simple. What happened to her—"

         "What happened to her is just more proof that I'm right. Life is short. And this life?" Sabine gestured around them, at the Ghost, indicating the ship, its walls, its inhabitants. "This life is not guaranteed. None of us know how much time we have left. There's no time to waste. You need to tell her. You need to get over whatever is holding you back."

         Kanan stood up to face her, looking Sabine in the eyes, pleading.

         "I know life is fragile, Sabine. I've seen it—just as much as you have, remember? But there are some things..." he paused, letting his shoulders go slack in defeat. "There are some things even I can't fix, even if I try."

         "What happened to, 'there is no try'?" Sabine asked mockingly.

         "Hey, I—"

         "We're on approach," Hera said over the ship's comm. Kanan took this as a reason to exit this conversation, reaching behind Sabine to hit the button on the door panel.

         "We're not done with this," Sabine warned, following Kanan out the door and into the ship's main hull.

         "We are for now," Kanan said simply, assembling with the others as the ship docked onto the larger, rebel freighter.

         "Chopper, stay with the Ghost," Hera commanded once they'd all reached the hull. "What are you two barking about?" Hera moved toward the Ghost's backdoor as the crew exited onto the larger ship.

         "You already know," Zeb said, laughing. Hera gave Kanan a knowing look.

         "Well, one problem at a time, yes?" Hera asked rhetorically, leading the crew forward to the headquarters of the Phoenix squadron.

         "Let's focus on our objective," Kanan said in a tired voice, rubbing the back of his neck. The doors to the large freighter's command center opened to them, where the group faced the striking figure of Ahsoka Tano.

         "Welcome," Ahsoka said in her sage voice, in it a concealed wisdom and power that rose beyond her years.

         "Glad to be here," Hera responded, signaling everyone to move into the command center and stand around the drafting holo, where the rebels made their plans of attack. "I hear you have important intel for us?"

         "Yes," Ahsoka replied, surveying the group, "but where is Y/N?"

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence, and Ahsoka focused her Force intuition on Kanan, finally taking in the compromised state of the usually stable and powerful Jedi.

         "She's alright," Sabine answered, "but she was recently...in the custody of the Grand Inquisitor." Ahsoka felt the truth beyond Sabine's words, and everyone heard her sharp intake of breath.

         "We managed to extract her," Hera told Ahsoka. "She's currently receiving medical attention, at the base on—" Ahsoka put up a hand, cutting Hera off.

         "Don’t tell me where she is," Ahsoka said urgently. "Don't tell anyone who doesn't already know." The group looked at each other, confused.

         "Why?" Kanan asked, fear and anxiety gripping his voice.

         "Because of the intel I have to share with you." Ahsoka turned to face the expansive viewport at the front of the command center, looking out at the stars as if lost in thought. "Leave us," Ahsoka commanded the pilots, who rose and left the command center without another word, leaving Ahsoka alone with the ghost crew. Kanan felt forward with his Force presence, listening, slowly learning the truth.

         "That...that can't be," Kanan said quickly, looking at Ahsoka's lekku hanging from her turned head.

         You know it to be true, Caleb Dume, Ahsoka thought, still facing away from the group, this thought only for Kanan to hear. No one in this group yet knew of his true name, his true identity. But Ahsoka, as connected as she was to the Force, must have always known.

         "What can't be?" Hera asked anxiously. Ahsoka turned back to face the crew.

         "The imperial presence on Lothal isn't a coincidence," Ahsoka began. "Nor is it a consequence of Lothal's natural resources." The group hovered on her words as she explained what Kanan had always known, but refused to see. "The emperor himself ordered the imperials to Lothal."

         "Why?" Zeb asked, looking back and forth between Kanan and Ahsoka.

         "To look for someone." Ahsoka's words rang through the command station, as Hera, Sabine, and Zeb turned to look at Kanan. They all knew without speaking who that someone must be. The orphan they had found on Lothal, possessing a natural ability beyond that of the powerful Jedi they knew. Their friend—their family. The moment grew in intensity in the silence, the tension of Kanan's thoughts surrounding them all, filling them all with fear.

         "What must we do?" Kanan asked, looking to Ahsoka for guidance, his voice finally strong, as if this dangerous news had steeled him, readied him for a fight.

         "Hide her. Keep her existence, and her power with the Force, a secret." Ahsoka instructed him, calming him with the strength of her words. "The emperor and those close to him must not find out it is your Padawan they have been searching for."          "But the Grand Inquisitor—" Hera said, her fearful eyes showing her train of thought.

         "The Grand Inquisitor knows not of her true power," Ahsoka said. "He thinks Kanan is the Jedi he has been instructed to find." The group processed through the news.

         "Thank you for telling us," Kanan told Ahsoka, reaching out his hand to take hers in a friendly grip. "This is vital. We needed to know."

         "Yes, you did," Ahsoka dropped her hand and looked him in the eye. "I know who you are, Kanan Jarrus. I know you will do what you must to protect her."

You knew when they would return before they came, your Force connection rekindled, stronger than ever. You felt calmer than you had in weeks, calmer than you felt before you had been taken by the Inquisitor. You felt a sense of rightness, a comfort in yourself and in your conclusions. You knew this to be the lingering taste of the light side of the Force—of everything that Jedi stood for, all of the compassion, peace, the denial of the self for the good of others. In meditation, you had come to the conclusion that it was time for there to be no more secrets between you and Kanan. You knew that fearing change was futile. You also knew that you needed to be brave, to face Kanan head on, to own up to your failure. This was the will of the Force, and you would be strong enough to enact it. That was the only path forward: to own up to your mistakes and to lay your feelings and failures bare in front of you, without shame. In doing this, you knew you would set yourself free. What you would do next, where you would go, or how you would go on—you didn't know. All you knew was that you needed to be selfless, and that if you were brave enough to set your own feelings aside, you might be able to prove to Kanan that he had not failed in choosing to teach you. You smiled as you walked out onto the landing platform of the base, looking up to the sky, seeing the Ghost descending toward you, as you knew it would.

Kanan sat in the hull of the ship, sitting quietly in meditation. He felt, finally, at peace. He knew what he needed to do, knew now without fear the path being asked of him. He once again felt his purpose, his moments of weakness now a fading memory, losing their hold in favor of the Jedi way: the selflessness, the love for all living beings, the understanding of the necessity of balance. Love and attachment weren't the same thing, he knew, and he also knew that attachment free of fear meant that one must be willing to let go of that which they loved the most. The feeling of love coursing through him now felt more powerful, more wonderful than anything he had ever felt before. Ahsoka's revelation had unlocked in him the wisdom he had needed—in learning that the emperor himself was hunting for you, Kanan had finally recognized amidst the fragility and chaos the true meaning of being connected to another. In letting go of his fears he was finally allowing himself to love freely, finally allowing himself to feel the strength and intensity of his love, without the ego, or the fear of loss. It was a sensation unlike any other. It invigorated him.

         "Landing gear engaged," Hera's voice said, somewhere near to him. Kanan smiled as he felt the ship touch down, reaching out for your presence, finding it immediately. To his surprise, you welcomed him into your presence, connecting with him via the Force for the first time since you'd been held on Mustafar. He had thought he might have to be gentle with you, ease you back into communicating with him, but what he felt from you now, standing only feet from you, hidden from you by the closed ramp of the ship, made him reconsider. He felt all your old fire and strength, coupled with a new wisdom.

         The group of rebels had decided on their return that it would be up to Kanan to decide when the time would come to tell you what they had all learned from Fulcrum. Kanan knew that time was not now—that you were not yet ready. The Force told him there would be an important time to reveal this information to you, and that when that time would come to pass, it would require on his part a sacrifice. What kind of sacrifice, he didn't know—all he knew was that dwelling in fear was not the path to the light, and thus, it was not the path to your safety, to your protection. He must be the Jedi he knew he could be. He must become stronger, for your sake, and for his, and for the rebellion's.

         The Ghost's ramp opened and Kanan shielded his eyes, taking in a bright light. But it was not the bright light of the suns that made him squint, not the light of the day entering the ship. It was not real light at all, or at least, not light real in the sense that Sabine and Zeb and Hera could see it. It was coming from the Force. It was coming from you. As the ramp hit the ground, and Kanan stepped forward, he saw you standing meters in front of him, smiling up at him, calm in your Force presence, pure sunlight. You wore your hair braided, similar in style to the traditional hair of a true padawan, and in seeing this, Kanan melted. He had never seen you looking so healthy, so strong, and so beautiful. He walked down to greet you.

As Kanan descended the Ghost's walkway, you felt a flicker of fear, only a flicker, and one that you swatted away like a mere insect. You could not let your own feelings cloud you, now. You needed to be the Jedi you knew you could be. For Kanan's sake, and for your own.

         "You're back," you said, smiling at him.

         "You're recovered," Kanan responded as he stopped in front of you, returning your smile, returning your warmth through the Force.

         "We'll...be inside," Zeb said from behind Kanan, Sabine snorting, Hera shushing them both. Chopper beeped, and though you didn't understand what the droid had said, the resulting giggle from the other crew members made your cheeks burn, and caused you to look away in embarrassment.

         "Will you walk with me?" Kanan asked kindly. You nodded, and he turned his body, giving you space and inviting you to walk by his side away from the ship and off of the landing platform.

         Atollon truly was a spectacular planet. As you walked with Kanan away from the base, you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the landscape in front of you. The giant, cactus-like plants grew in clusters and combined in their color with the fading haze of the sky, the sun setting and creating a gradient from yellow to orange to pink and purple. Kanan led you up a small hill and stopped, looking out over the beautiful view for a moment before turning to face you.

         You knew he was waiting for you to speak. You knew he had felt through the Force that you had something to tell him, that you'd prepared what to say. Again quieting your own fear, breathing in the living Force, you began.

         "Kanan, I want to thank you, sincerely, for all that you've taught me," you said, glancing up into his eyes, their sea green intensity focused fully on you, on your face and on your words. "I haven't been as appreciative of your training as I should have been. I am truly grateful for you. You risked your life to save mine, and I will forever be indebted to you." Kanan shifted a bit at this last admission, his eyebrow flickering, but he knew you had more to say, and he let you continue. You swallowed, hard, looking up into his eyes, continuing to hold onto your strength and resolve. "I need to tell you how sorry I am."

         At this, Kanan exhaled, taking your hand reflexively. You both looked down at your fingers, your hand cupped in his, but to your relief, and to Kanan's, you felt no sense of shock in your body, no fear or electricity. You felt only the softness of his hand, the warmth of his skin on your own.

         "You're sorry," Kanan said, finally interrupting you. He looked from your hand he held in front of him back up to your face. "This is what I don't understand." You stared back at him, holding your breath. "During our moment of...connection," Kanan continued, "you—you told me you were sorry. What could you possibly have to be sorry for, sola?"

         His use of this term of endearment melted your resolve. No one had called you sola since you were very small. On Lothal, sola meant, 'my sun and my sky'. You knew he had used a term from your home world intentionally, and it took all of the strength you had left to continue looking him in the face, to say what you had prepared to say, your fear rocking you, your hands starting to shake.

         "I know that during our...moment of connection, as you called it," you started, him gripping your shaking hand in his, his eyes not leaving yours. "I know that I shared with you more than I had...planned to let on." You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to give yourself the strength to continue. "I know that I've failed you, Kanan. I ignored your training. I have allowed myself to feel selfishly, to want and desire from a place of attachment, from a place of need instead of selfless compassion." You hung your head, opening your eyes, but unable to look back up at him, feeling the beginnings of salty tears clouding your vision. You needed to get this out. You were almost there. "I know my love for you is a betrayal of the Jedi way...the way you have tried to teach me. I'm sorry, Kanan. I wanted to be the Jedi you thought I could be. I really did. But I can't. I won't ask you to understand, but—" you took a moment to breathe, your lungs not seeming to take in enough oxygen. "But this is how I feel. I want to take ownership of my failures. I take responsibility. And I understand what has to happen now. I understand that you can't train me anymore. You don't have to worry about—"

         "Y/N," Kanan interrupted again, taking a step and closing the gap between you, taking your other hand in his. This proximity was overwhelming to you. He stood so close, his hands around yours. You couldn't look up at him. You couldn't breathe.

         "I shouldn't have tried to teach you the values of attachment and compassion as opposing binaries, as black and white..." Kanan said softly, trying to find the right words, his heart fuller of feeling than it ever had been before. If only you would look at him. If only you could see the truth. "Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I am the one who should be sorry."

         "You don't have to be sorry!" You said, looking back up at him, your face earnest, your eyes wet, your eyebrows raised. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Kanan. It's okay." You needed to make him understand, needed him to see that you had let go of your fear, that he didn't need to worry about not feeling the same way as you felt. "You don't have to worry about hurting me, or hurting my feelings. I only want what's best, and—"

         "Y/N, you're not understanding me," Kanan interjected, dropping one of your hands to place his fingers under your chin, gently, but in an effort to keep your face up, to keep your eyes on his as he told you what he'd needed to tell you for so long. "All of this has been my mistake. I thought that in keeping myself distanced from you, I could give you what you wanted. The moment I met you, when I saw how powerful you already were, how strong the Force was with you without any training...I wanted to help you." You crinkled your eyebrows, not understanding. Kanan continued. "I thought that you needed me to be your mentor, someone who asked nothing of you, who tried to teach you as objectively as possible. I thought that in keeping my own feelings from you—from myself—I could protect you. I thought that was what would make you strong." He looked deeply into your eyes, but still saw your confusion.

         Kanan laughed. "Y/N, are you still not understanding me?" He dropped your chin in exasperation, smiling at your incredulity, your inability to comprehend what you meant to him.

         "Not at all. Kanan, I—"

         "Y/N, listen to me!" Kanan said, with feeling, but still through the smile on his face. "You are what matters most to me! From the moment I met you, on Lothal, every moment I've trained you, everything I've taught you, it has all been...infected, tainted by how I've felt about you!" Kanan swung his arms around, expressing with his body the feeling inside of him. "And I thought I could help you by hiding it—I thought I was denying myself feeling for the greater good—but I was wrong! The old way of the Jedi, the tenet of denying oneself attachments, it isn't about denying oneself love! Denial of the self for the good of others—that's the saying, is it not? But we mustn't deny ourselves simply because it's easier than facing the truth, especially if it does harm to those we care about. By hiding our feelings, by squashing down our natural inclinations, our care for each other, we have brought forth the will of the dark side—we have allowed ourselves to be given over to fear. I was wrong, Y/N. Please forgive me."

         Kanan stepped back from you, giving you space, watching your face as you tried to process what he'd said. The word he'd used—love—it didn't make sense to you. It didn't add up. Our feelings—you thought you'd heard Kanan say it, but it still seemed unreal, still seemed like something wasn't clicking into place.

         Kanan felt as if he were exploding with emotion: he felt as if he wanted to sweep you up into his arms, to never let you go, to keep you there, forever, and he also felt as if he wanted you to take off as a bird into the sky, for you to disappear into the fading light forever, and finally, those two feelings of love did not contradict each other. The one added to the other, both sides of the spectrum necessarily intensifying the whole. He felt lovingly infuriated with you, how slow you were to understand this, how hard it was now to convince you of the truth.

         You were shaking worse than before, now. You tried to comprehend, but you simply couldn't process everything he had said—it felt so different to the rejection you thought you had known. Kanan reached his arms out once again, his palms upturned, inviting your hands. "Let me show you," Kanan said, and you obliged, not being in any condition to argue.

         Your hands in his, Kanan lowered to a kneel, and you followed suit. He sat back against his feet, and you did the same, both of you closing your eyes into meditation. As your Force presence lifted out into the external world, this time it did so attached fully to Kanan's, a connection bolstered by your hands in his. You gave in to the Force, as you knew you must. You pushed your presence onto his, showed him all of the feelings you were ashamed of, your regret, your remorse, your past fears of his rejection, your sadness over his rebuff. In turn, he pushed his presence out toward you, and you welcomed it, seeing his guilt at your capture, his fear for your safety, his agony after your moment of connection had shown him how you truly felt. But the agony wasn't because he feared your feelings, or rejected them, you now saw—the agony came from a deep ache within him, a longing, a desire that you felt was familiar, as it mirrored your own. In your meditative state, your mouth opened in a quiet gasp as it all fell into place. Only when this deep in the Force—only when connected to the deepest parts of Kanan, of Caleb, you now saw—only now could you fully understand.

         He loved you. He loved you with every cell of his being, every muscle, every hair. He had loved you even before you'd fallen in love with him, you saw now. In your meditation, the two of you looked back over your time together, and finally saw it for what it was—a love story.

         As if drawn up by the Force, you, eyes still closed, rose from your low kneel to stand on your knees in front of Kanan, whose body mirrored yours. You breathed out, finally. You knew the truth, finally. The anticipation you felt as you opened your eyes was not like the fear you had felt before—it felt as if the whole universe was contained in these two bodies, yours and the one across from you. It felt like being alive. As you looked, you saw that Kanan's eyes were already open, already looking you over, his presence cracking finally into a deep, immense joy.

         "I do love you, Y/N," he told you now, as you kneeled together, your faces close. He knew you knew this now, knew you had seen his feelings with him, but he wanted to say it aloud, wanted it to be real in the external as well as the internal. You reached up a trembling hand to brush your fingers under his eye, and down his cheek, your fright turning to joy turning to cosmic release.

         "I love you, Kanan," you told him, and, still trembling, you leaned forward toward him, putting your hands on either side of his face, your forehead against his.

         You could say that it felt like two stars, meeting again after the separation of the big bang, their primordial energies remembering each other as matter crashed against matter. You could say it felt like coming home and being fed a hot meal, being tucked in at night in a warm, comfortable bed, having the light turned out. You could say it felt like flying a spaceship fast through an asteroid field, exhilaration and fear flowing through you as you narrowly avoided each orbital object. You could say a lot of things. The truth was, the feeling you had as you pressed your lips against Kanan's, at the same time as he leaned in to gently press his lips against yours in a simultaneous gesture, was all of those things, and more. The feeling defied description. As your lips connected, as you opened your mouths to each other, as his hands encircled you, one on your waist, gently drawing you to him, one arm crooked behind your back, his hand at the base of the back of your neck, you felt complete in a way you had never before known. In a way that felt one in a million, one in a trillion galaxies in the sky.

         You broke apart. As you tucked your head into Kanan's neck, and he hugged you closer to him, you felt your Force presences converge in an irreparable way. You were forever connected, from this point forward. No matter what the future brought, Kanan was a part of you now, and you were a part of him. Until forever.

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

Edited: Link to Episode 7 is live!

The Jedi and the Loth Rat Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6 Episode 7 Episode 8

screencap credit: @laughingphoenixleader

divider credit: @djarrex

tags: @orangehightops @jedi-archives @taina-eny

#star wars #starwarsblr #obi wan kenobi #hayden christensen #kanan jarrus #kanan x reader #kanan jarrus x reader #kanan jarrus x padawan!reader #kanan jarrus x padawan #kanan x fem!reader #kanan #star wars rebels #rebels fanfic #rebels fanfiction #rebels kanan #swr #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfiction #fluff #star wars fluff #writers #writeblr #fanfiction #romantic fanfic #sabine wren #hera syndulla #zeb orrelios #ahsoka tano #chopper

[driftward]

1. Grow

Characters: Nyx Blackmoon Rating: Teen Summary: -null- Notes: Contains information from Endwalker

The lifestream

A river of soul

Washes memories away,

Freed from attachment

Freed from history

Set forth for another life, another day

Life creates form and soul creates function

A closed loop

A soul manifests into its form

And a shape is derived from its function

At least that is the usual way of things

Right?

The usual way of things

This one was different

A small dark form fell

Drifting, flowing, floating

A form without function

Function with incomplete form

Skeleton of exotic alloy

Muscle of unusual density

Heart of complex machinery

Circuitry meeting cultured neurology

Tissue meeting linkages

Mind meeting soul

…ideally, mind meeting soul

But there was no soul as it entered the lifestream

Not yet

It drifted on rushing current

Surrounded by powerful aether

A connection to it drawing forth from the torrent

The stuff that souls are made of

The detritus of souls lost

The debris of souls shattered

The free floating energy of souls that never were

The manifestation of souls yet to be

It gathered and gathered hungrily

An amalgam,

Of aetherology,

Of technology,

Of biology,

And now of something to make it more

Its soul grew

Outside of destiny

Until it was nearly whole

Nearly…

-*-

She watched as the form drifted down towards her, interested, hopeful, as always.

It would not be the first visitor she had received in her long vigil.

She always hoped this one would be the last.

The spark she was looking for to shine forth the light forevermore.

But as it drew near, she frowned.

It was… fractured. Not in the way of her work, nor in the many ways of the trials of life, of existence, but unwhole. There was more than enough there; the sum of its parts should have been more than enough.

But they were not. It was warring with itself, too disparate. As it fell, it thrashed, limbs askew, body seeming fit to tear itself asunder.

She could hear its voice, could hear the sound of its very soul-

What is my purpose

Who am I

Why am I here

Do I have anything worth living for

She was surprised it had made it this far, as it was. Normally the lifestream’s torrents and flows would strip such a thing thin to nothingness, returning the soul clean and the rest as free energy to form into new existence or fade to nothingness.

But this thing existed in some in between state, neither coming together nor falling apart, and the body it was attached to continued to spin and thrash as it fell.

She turned her face away, unwilling to watch the end of a spark that had fallen so far.

And then, suddenly, it stilled, and curled slowly in on itself.

I am, it said.

She watched it carefully, as it settled. As the many disparate parts became one, a whole greater than their sum, the same as any other soul ready for new life.

But not quite the same. It was whole, to be sure. But it was a rainbow, shimmering, colors on black, and not quite yet fully married to its form.

What is my purpose, it asked again.

She should let it go. Let the lifestream reclaim it.

But was she not here as a champion of new life?

Whatever form it may take?

She held out her hands and caught it gently.

And she spoke.

“Hear. Feel. Think. Go forth,” she said. “And experience life in all its many ways, its highs and lows, its hopes and despairs. Live, and grow.”

The new soul was quiet, and it stilled, and then it took to its form. She could feel it as it became, as thoughts formed in its mind, and how strange they were, a mix of feelings and ideas she did not recognize.

But it was one, and it would survive.

If only given the chance.

She sighed, and she pushed it back up, and let it go, free, back to where it came from. And only hoped she was not making a mistake.

-*-

Initialising Soul gig extraction complete System integration in progress Warning: Directive instructions not found Attempting to send alert to command central control Warning: Connection to command central control failed Fallback to local control Check in with organic substrate The voice said to hear. To feel. To think. What is my purpose ...to experience …accepting primary directive Establishing initial neural gestalt network Entering independent operation mode Standby. Standby. Standby. Begin full activation sequence

Online.

#final fantasy xiv #grow #march prompts #202303.02 #nyx blackmoon

[drhu0806]

25 – “Do I look like I knew that?”

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 (fanfiction) Characters: Astarion, Tav/custom player character Rating: G Warnings: none

“Gods, that stings! Could you please be gentler?!”

“Once again, it’s the poultice, dear, not my hand. I’m barely touching you,” Kainé sighs.

She pats the herbal paste—as gently as possible, of course—onto the angry, patchy red skin that lines the side of Astarion’s pale neck. She can’t help but shake her head; who knew an undead vampire could be affected by something like poison ivy!

“I told you to watch out for the leaves…”

“Leaves! Do you think I of all people could pick out leaves from leaves? How am I supposed to know what poison ivy looks like? Do I look like I would know that?”

Kainé can only shake her head again, know that it’s better to simply let him air out all his complaints. An earthy, medicinal odor hangs about them; Astarion wrinkles his nose, but he can’t deny that he feels less like he wants to claw his skin off.

“Please tell me the smell goes away.”

“You stay away from anymore of those leaves, and it sure will.”

He sighs, carefully maneuvering his way up so that his collar doesn’t brush against the treated area. What a sorry state he’s in, he thinks. There’s the itchy skin, the debris in his hair he hasn’t had time to wash out yet, not to mention his filthy clothes after rolling around in the mud so ungracefully. How does she do this all the time?

“You know, Astarion, it would probably really benefit you if you just—” She cuts herself off, dismissing herself with a wave. “Never mind. Make sure to reapply that every few hours; just come find me if you feel it coming off. It should get better within the next day or two.”

Kainé pats him on the arm before walking away, and he can’t help but feel he should have stopped her.

-------------

He’s organizing his things when she walks by the door of the inn room. Popping her head around the frame, she’s carrying a small tome as she walks in, excited.

“Hey, glad I caught you. Are you busy?”

Astarion continues to clean one of his daggers, but regards her with a nod. “I always have time for you, darling.”

“Great, well, remember when you fell into that poison ivy? I found this book about plants that I thought would really—”

But when she sees the look on his face, escaping him before he could catch himself, her face falls. Kainé recovers quickly, pasting an attempt at a smile on, but he can see that the damage is done, and he kicks himself.

“Ah, you know what, it’s stupid. You obviously have better things to do, and this isn’t something you’re interested in anyway so I don’t want to bore you.” She slowly begins to step backwards out of the room, hiding the book behind her back. “Sorry to bother you, go ahead and continue with whatever it is you were doing.”

A memory jogs within his mind: he remembers how thrilled she had been when Halsin joined their little entourage, the hours the two of them spent out in the wild, speaking about plants and animals with names he’s still not sure are in Common. How different she can be when she’s around him.

It leaves such a bitter taste in his mouth at the thought that she feels compelled to hide a piece of herself from him like this.

“Well, hold on a moment,” Astarion beckons, “I have time. Don’t run off just yet. I promise I won’t bite.”

“Are you sure? It’s just plant stuff.”

“I mean, that much was obvious, my dear, but what kind of plant stuff is it this time?”

It’s enough to draw her attention enough for him to pull her inside and close the door behind her. She’s caught off guard by his interest, allowing him to shepherd her to a comfortable spot to sit. Sliding in close, he winds an arm around her as he settles in.

“Alright, I’m comfortable. Now, what darling little posies are you going to tell me about this time?”

“Hey now, they’re not posies this time! These are all about poisonous flowers and plants, because I have to prove to you that they’re not all just pretty colors and nice smells.” She flips the tome open, revealing a picture of a truly twisted blossom that really looks like it could only be poisonous. “And since you’re interested I drew you some pictures of common things like poison ivy so hopefully you know what to look out for in the future.”

Once again, Kainé meets him in the middle. What kind of person would he be if he couldn’t do the same? He makes sure to pour the both of them ample amounts of wine as they settle in for the afternoon, and for the first time in so long, Astarion is grateful that there truly is so much more to learn in the world.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarionmance #astarion x tav #fictober23 #my writing #owlscratch

[wiredaughter]

@tropetember #20: horror

Doll Parts

outlast × mother gooseberry/ofc × dracula's castle inspired × frankenstrein boogaloo × 1038 words × ao3

Life is painful as it breaks through this body in waves of electricity and heat, but not more than usual. It shocks its nerves alive, making me grind these teeth and finally, open these eyes. My eyes, I figure I'm alive enough to call them mine by now. I risk a look around, in time to see a figure disappear to the right of the table I'm strapped to. I curse silently, stop when I realise my vision is perfect again. About a week ago I got a metal rod through my left eye, and my donor had such astigmatism it was quite useless. Well, not anymore. Rather vainly, I wonder if she managed to match the colour this time. I'm cold, now that the current isn't running through me, but I'm always bare in this table so that's nothing new. I take the chance to stare myself down, take account of what is mine and what will be from now on.

My breath is shallow, fighting its way through my trachea and I can still feel the wolf closing its jaws around it, so I've probably got stitches. Stitches, like I care. By now I'm just like an used voodoo doll. Wrapped in sickly pale skin like old books. My mood is always in the gallows after a resurrection, and realising I've lost two fingers doesn't help. My new pointer finger doesn't quite fit my usual fist, and when I raise my hand as high as I can to examine it I see its complexion is also a bit of a miss. It's almost as long as my reconstructed middle finger that, while glaringly not mine, looks somewhat better since I only lost from the intermediate phalanx up. Lost. As if, I didn't lose shit, it got torn by the wolfs on steroids she keeps around the castle. Because she's not letting me leave. The though has me instinctively trying to break off my restrains, she's got no right to keep me here.

I drowned, first. Dove off through my window and tried to make it for the shore. It was still winter, and I knew I was dead as soon as I hit the water. It was a reassuring thought, if I died then she'd never get me, and the ultimate victory was mine. Right. She said it was good I did it, the cold helped keep the body in conditions while she figured out the science. Science, or curse, that keeps me waking up to the electric charge, laid out like a slab of meat in display. At first, I despised everything about it, but now I don't think I mind. Deadset as she is on bringing me back, there's no way I don't eventually get to escape. I wonder if she realises she's only making me smarter, stronger, more resistant to the pain every time I draw my newest first breath. A month ago I couldn't even make it out of the castle, now I've got out and into the forest before I lost. Who could have known about the wolves, I mean, you'd think they'd go for easier prey. I raise my hand to my face, an ugly thought fighting for my attention, run my fingertips along my skin. If she gave me a new eye it means I needed a new eye. Which means the beasts probably ate the old one, straight from my face. My breath catches when I find the sutures running down my cheek. I calm myself down, I've seen her work and she's a veritable restorer. When I blew up the main doors and got a piece of debris to my jaw so hard it dislocated, she fixed it so well you can only see the scar if you get close. And nobody gets close but her.

And she comes closer, now that I'm no longer struggling, clothes in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Rather than letting me up she raises it to my lips, and I drink. I didn't notice I was shivering until now, hot liquid putting how cold I truly am in perspective. Not for long, though, as she frees me and helps me stand. My legs feel decayed, whether from the pure adrenaline run that lead to my dead or the electricity beats me. She doesn't mind as I lean on her for support, and I don't mind playing along. She hands me the tea and I finish it in long gulps but stay silent as she dresses me, hands covering every inch of the body she's remade for me, voice fussing about something I cannot care to hear. As usual, I kick the shoes away, and as usual she allows that.

The floor is so cold in my feet I find myself regretting that as we walk to her chambers to finish our tea, and as soon as we're seated I fold my legs to burrow them into the folds of her skirt. She looks smug at that, but I focus on my tea. She reaches for my left hand, traces the stitches, 'So you've met the wolves last night. Let me be clear, I suggest you stay off the woods in the future.'

'Does that mean you're calling me a carriage?'

'Now, why would I do that?'

Her smile is warm and she's passing me the sandwich tray but I'm nothing if not difficult. I turn my nose up at the offer. 'I want scones.'

'Last time you wanted finger sandwiches.' Her voice is patient, and gets me to pick up one. I examine it. 'You could at least try it.'

'Last time I hadn't had my face half eaten in the wilderness.' I toss the sandwich over my shoulder, fix her in a curious look. It's her move now. Undeterred, she pours me more tea, so I continue. 'Did you go out to find me or did you send the help?'

'Listen...'

'You know, I'm getting out of here, sooner than later.'

She closes her knees, trapping my feet between her thighs and I put up my token struggle as she leans in with a complacent smile. 'Later, rather than sooner if you keep skipping meals.'

#r-tropetember #soz!

[one-sadistic-bitch]

Another A.I. generated Outlast fic

This one gets pretty deep if you read into it, it actually almost made me emotional

(My thoughts and annotations will be in red with parentheses)

I call this one: "Jeremy's Decent into Madness"

(I like to think that this is Jeremy's POV in some way and he believes that Rick is his psychologist as he slowly goes insane)

Work had just begun at Mount Massive asylum when the first bell rang that Saturday morning. The young psychologist Rick Trager told himself he would start to work on his theories of human behavior that very day. But as Rick approached his office, he saw a man who he realized must be Jeremy Blaire lying on the floor. Jeremy wasn't a newcomer to Mount Massive Asylum, and Rick suspected Jeremy would have to be found in order to see exactly why the young doctor should be anxious. Rick went in search of the two orderlies who would normally handle drunk Jeremy. Unfortunately, one of the orderlies reported that his other best friend was absent when the two went to fetch Jeremy from the dorm. Rick was left alone with Jeremy, where a drunken altercation was soon interrupted by a horrific explosion. The shock of the explosion caused Jeremy to lose consciousness, and Rick rushed to Jeremy's side. The massive explosion rocked Mount Massive Asylum, collapsing some of the interior walls and collapsing parts of the roof. Some of the roof tiles fell around Jeremy, who was still very drunk.

(In my mind this was something very small, like a burst pipe for example, causing a tiny piece of ceiling debris to fall on Jeremy, he's just grossly exaggerating in his mind)

"Rick! Help!" He cried.

Trager stared, wondering if he was dreaming. "Jeremy?" Trager looked around at the smoking wreckage.

He expected to be yelled at for not looking at Jeremy's safety earlier in the evening. But Rick had been consumed with Jeremy's dream. Trager felt angry that Jeremy had let him get worried over nothing, and angry that Jeremy had taken a drunken fall. But most of all, Trager felt angry at Jeremy, Jeremy's careless stupidity had ruined Rick's theories. He had never thought that one drunken drunken story about his father could cause this mess.

"Get up, loser." Rick kicked at Jeremy.

"No!" Jeremy coughed, choking on the blood in his mouth, and lifting his head.

Rick kicked again, trying to get the drunk to lift his head, and get to his feet. "Get up, Jeremy! Get up!"

"You're not going to hurt me, are you? I could have done that myself."

"Jer, I swear I won't hurt you." ... Rick kicked once more. "You could have died in a way that I couldn't help you." Rick kicked again. "You have no sense of your own safety. Trager just sits by the window, and you walk through walls."

Trager wanted to walk through walls with Jeremy, but he couldn't. All Rick could do was drugs. And his drugs had nothing to do with Jeremy's manipulation of the mental asylum. It was simply the result of Jeremy's talents in manipulation. Rick had tried to get the man to put a stop to Jeremy's drug usage. Trager took the stack of charts he was drawing on and stood, looking at Jeremy's angry face.

"This is all wrong." He looked around the room. "We haven't found Jeremy's talent for using antiserious dreams. This is Jeremy's fault."

(This part just cracks me up)

"How do you know this?"

"I'm the psychologist."

Jeremy frowned. "Says who? That's just a way of making yourself important."

Rick stood, glowering. "What am I supposed to do?"

Jeremy's expression went blank as he thought. "I could hire someone, but Jeremy uses his talent for getting things done himself."

(I love that the bot always makes Jeremy talk about himself in the third person)

"That's a lie. You just don't want him working on something that was only in his mind."

"So you need to get me off the drugs. That wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

Trager didn't answer. He stood silent. He wanted to leave Jeremy to his misery. After all, he did deserve it, he was a lying bastard. But it was his life. Why did he think he could stop Jeremy? One of the nurses came in.

(The nurse is just a secretary going along with the chaos so she doesn't get fired)

"Trager, Jeremy called you. Jeremy fell off the wagon, but he wants to get back onto his wagon. He wants his medicine."

"I can take Jeremy back to his room, Jeremy. I want my charts."

"Oh, go on."

Trager looked to Jer, who nodded. The nurse stepped forward, easing the man down onto his bed. Trager watched her as he took the chart in front of him. It was Jeremy's chart.

"Whatever it was I did to Jeremy, it wasn't sexual." Rick stated. "If you think I could do something to Jeremy that could cause this, then you are a fool."

"Oh, I think you can."

Trager pointed at the images, staring hard at Jeremy's room.

(His room is just some office and his bed is a couch)

"That's Jeremy's room." The nurse finished taking Jeremy's chart. "When you get this back to the psychiatrist, tell him that Jeremy never committed any of the crimes committed by Jeremy, Jeremy is innocent of Jeremy's crimes."

(This part I found SO funny. I like to think that Jeremy told her to say this.)

"Is that so, Jeremy?" Trager laughed loudly. "I can see all of these mental hospital patients screaming for their drugs. If you can let your drugs out, then I can see what you are doing with those patients. I'm not afraid of Jeremy, Jeremy."

...

Jeremy looked down. His feet were aching, they needed to get to the bathroom so he could take a hot shower. His body was covered with bruises and cuts, but he couldn't tell if any of them were serious. All he could remember was nightmares that went on for hours with no end in sight. He rested his hands on his knees.

(This part genuinely gets kinda sad)

"What kind of punishment is this?" Jeremy asked.

"No punishment." Trager's voice was loud as if he could make everyone hear him. "You just go out there and have a life. A good life. The life Jeremy wanted. And a healthy life." He picked up a picture of Rick and Jeremy together. "I had hopes for you, Jeremy."

Jeremy stood up and started to walk out, only to stopped. "Trager, do you know where my hospital room is?"

"No."

"Do you know the man behind you?"

Rick looked back. "Is he your babysitter?" Trager forced a laugh again. He walked quietly.

"Rick, come back!" Jeremy called, "Buddy!" He lifted his hand.

"Can we go to the movies next weekend, Jeremy? If you want to spend time with me, then you can get your prescriptions."

(His prescriptions from Rick are probably mints or something)

Jeremy glared at Rick. His face was painted with anger. Even if Rick had gotten his drugs, he wouldn't get those pills to Jeremy. "Get your blood pressure medication."

Jeremy looked at Rick. Rick shrugged and left.

(In this next part, I picture Jeremy sitting by a mirror, having a conversation with himself until Rick returns.)

Jeremy took a deep breath. "Jeremy, listen to what I have to say. That's how you can get your medications. When you get them back from Rick, you'll have to sleep with him."

"I don't want to!"

"You will."

"Mueller is my friend, Jeremy."

(Who tf is Mueller? Idk, his imaginary friend maybe?)

"You're new here, Jeremy. You haven't made any friends yet."

(Rick comes back and sees what's going on)

"Jeremy, sit." Rick insisted. "Sit back down."

(Still talking to himself vvv)

Jeremy was dead tired. He looked at Jeremy. Jeremy had left Rick. "Look, Jeremy, I don't think Rick has any control of you. Go to the auditorium and watch the movie. When Rick sees the bruises on your body, then he can find Jeremy."

(Now talking to Rick vvv)

"You can't be so cold." Jeremy said.

(We're back to sad again)

"Listen to me, Jeremy! Jeremy, You're dying!" Rick pleaded.

"I don't care." Jeremy lifted his fist.

"Don't punch me!" Trager yelled. "Look at your medicine, Jeremy. When I saw the pills, they were always in your pockets." Rick said. "The pills never came in bottles. The bottles aren't for Jeremy. How can you be so cold? Even if I help you out, if you don't sleep with me, I'll still bring your medications to you. You'll be in the hospital for longer than if you didn't."

Jeremy looked at Jeremy. Jeremy looked at Rick. They looked at each other and smiled.

There's more, but I thought this was a sweet ending (kind of). After this it quickly derails lol, but maybe I'll add it later.

#ai generated #outlast fanfiction #richard trager #rick trager #jeremy blaire #the murkoff account #mount massive asylum