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sappymix1 · 5 months

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Okay writing prompt -> office au dnf where George is the front desk worker and Dream is in sales and they meetup in the break room and always flirt

hi anon so funny thing it did not occur to me that you meant office au as in the show the office until I turned on the tv earlier today and it was there lmao. but anyway here is 1.3k words of dnfies working for a company that supplies textbooks to high schools lmao

[12:14] 🐈‍⬛: Dream

[12:16] 🐈‍⬛: Hellooooooooo

[12:16] 🐈‍⬛: This is so messed up why are you ignoring me

[12:19] 🐈‍⬛: Dreeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaam

[12:21] 🐈‍⬛: Stop ignoring me, idiot

[12:25] 🐈‍⬛: I’m so bored. I haven’t had to do anything all day. This is so boring.

[12:27] 🐈‍⬛: And now you won’t even text me back. You hate me.

[12:31] 🐈‍⬛: You should come talk to me so I don’t die of boredom.

[12:34] 🐈‍⬛: This is me because of you

[12:34] 🐈‍⬛: Ignore the caption

[12:37] 🐈‍⬛: I’m going to start texting Foolish instead of you. I’ll find his number in my computer.

[12:38] 🐈‍⬛: I’m doing it. I’m going to do it. I’m going to find his number and text him asking if he can show me his muscles

“Thank you, Ms. French; I’ll make sure that gets worked out for you. Have a good day.” Dream hung up his phone, posture immediately worsening as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to force down the headache that had been brewing since about the third question about the difference in price between the fourth and fifth editions of the biology textbook some forgettable high school in Vermont was attempting to purchase before the new school year began.

Dream was pretty good at his job, mostly because he was pretty good with the people. He thought he had a good voice, one that made him good at dealing with people over the phone because it prepped them to like him by that alone. He was a bit more awkward in person, yeah – a bit too tall, not quite sure what to do with his arms or his feet – but clients were already endeared to him enough that at that point his slight awkwardness just ended up being charming. That wasn’t the point though; the point was that he was ordinarily really good at phone sales, customer service, that sort of thing. This particular call had just been a bit exhausting. He had barely even passed his own high school biology class; he definitely did not know which text book was the better option even though he had to at least sound like he did.

Dream glanced over across the office, over to the desk up by the door. His vantage point, unfortunately, wasn’t that great these days. His boss had gotten it into his head that some change of scenery would make everyone more productive as they got deeper into the hot months of summer and, as a result, Dream had traded his desk conveniently within eyeshot of the front desk for one much farther away, and all he could see over, of all things, the fucking broken printer was a little bit of curly dark hair that drifted back and forth in a way that made it obvious that its owner was rocking back and forth in the swivel chair.

Dream wasn’t quite sure that this rearranging was having the effect on productivity his boss had desired. He reached into his pocket, and he slid out his phone.

His lock screen was covered in a long chain of texts, all coming from a contact saved simply as a familiar emoji. Dream scrolled through them, automatically smiling as his stomach buzzed with strawberries and oranges. Apparently, he was not the only person struggling to focus.

[12:47] me: get better bait. you would text foolish telling him to die before you asked to see him shirtless.

[12:47] me: besides, you’d never do that to tina

Dream went to flip his phone over, not wanting to risk someone noticing that he was off task, but immediately, his phone buzzed with a response.

[12:48] 🐈‍⬛: What are you doing?

[12:48] me: i was on the phone.

[12:49] me: lunch?

This time, he didn’t bother putting his phone down, just watched the three little dots indicating someone typing on the other side of their conversation. He realized quickly that he was holding his breath, and he forced himself to let the lingering air leave his lungs. Don’t be stupid.

When the text came, it was much shorter than the time spent typing it would have implied. Dream could imagine him going back and forth and back and forth, fingers freezing on the same anxiety that both worried and excited Dream.

[12:50] 🐈‍⬛: Yes

Dream got up from his desk, heading to the break room to get his lunch. Once the door fell shut behind him, cutting off the low buzz of the lights and computers and air conditioning of the main office with a tight thud, he went to the fridge and pulled out the container of sliced up mango and half a sandwich in a baggie. A green sticky note with a smiley face adorned both of them, identifying them as his. He was in the middle of trying to crack the seal on the lid of his drink when he heard the door swing again and quickly felt arms encircle his waist.

“You’re so, like, needy, today,” he said without turning around. “What’s wrong?” Half teasing. Half so sincere that it made both of them squirm a little bit. Dream had always been good at that – caring about people. Especially certain ones.

“Nothing.” George – the receptionist, the cute British guy in the office, the most important person in Dream’s phone – pressed his face against the back of Dream’s shirt, muffling his voice. “I’m bored. You were ignoring me.”

Dream scoffed. He set his lunch down on the counter and turned around to face George. George was looking up at him, lips pressed together like he was trying and failing to keep himself from smiling. Failing, both because George wasn’t particularly good at hiding his happiness and because Dream could read his emotions from a single movement of his rich dark eyes. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I was working. I spent, like, half an hour stuck on the phone talking about biology textbooks.”

“Wow, poor Dream,” George teased, reaching to open the fridge and find his own lunch – left over chicken nuggets, apparently, as well as a plastic bag filled with apple slices – before settling across from Dream at the table. “Forced to spend all day on the phone, while I’m dying at my desk.”

A bite of his sandwich. “Dying? Of what?”

“Boredom and neglect,” George said, sounding extremely put upon. “It’s so messed up that you’re letting your stupid job get in the way of our relationship. Just so that you can, like, have money or whatever.”

“I can’t believe you’d let Patches go hungry like that.” Dream reached over to steal a sip of George’s peach ice tea, and George just grinned at him before sighing.

“I guess that’s a good enough reason.” They were both quiet for a few seconds, ankles brushing under the table as George chewed on his apple slices and Dream picked at his mango with a plastic fork from home. It was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as lunch at a tiny breakroom table that was so short that Dream banged his knees against it every time he sat down could be. It was, arguably, one of the least remarkable days of Dream’s life. Tomorrow, he would put back on his scratchy work clothes and the shoes that pinched his toes, make a million more phone calls to talk about textbooks he couldn’t care less about, and eat another dry sandwich in the shitty breakroom. The same mundanity that he had found, despite the big dreams that he had had growing up, to be his life these days. And, just like he eventually did today, before they threw out their trash and tried to leave the breakroom far enough apart to make it inconspicuous, George would ask if he could come over after work, and everything would feel a little bit more special.

#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG im so slow #asks #anon #sappy.ao3 #like its not but that's the tag #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANOGIEEE #dnf

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sakasakiii · 1 year

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Hi!

I love your work!! Your art is very pretty. Do you have a specific idea of how old everyone is ? Do you lean more towards canon or do you have your own dates in mind ? If don’t wanna a answer it’s ok!

Hope u have a nice day

(Remember to drink water!)

hiiii nonnie!!! thank you for checking in, and im happy u like the stuff i put out!! when it comes to ages, it's difficult to answer sometimes bc of the way professor tolkien's timeline is-- it makes gauging one singular place where most of the cast can be compared something that makes my tired brain go 😵🤧🤕 but i love the prompt youve given! and thus heres my attempt at it

with most of my tolkien stuff, i always try to stick to canon wherever possible emphasis is on try lmao and the topic of ages is one such place. i do make exceptions to the Professor's canon sometimes for a few reasons: 1) i like some of the scrapped ideas in his drafts, or 2) i just prefer other options. with ages, i think the only charas with canon-established ages i deviated from are fingolfin, finrod, turgon, and aredhel. i try to keep cases like these minimal tho, so i hope it doesn't bother anyone too much... 👉👈

anyways i figured just dropping a list of numbers would be kinda boring to look at so heres an illustrated guide to what the ~rough~ ages of the finweans are in my head whenever i write or draw. Y.T. 1495 (the year Finwe dies) is the controlled medium ive used to enable a fair comparison of the Finweans

note: "born Y.T. xxx" means this is the canon date of birth listed on Tolkien Gateway. "est. born [xxx]" means this is a noncanon estimate:

the First Age gets a lot more muddled from there due to the hullaballoo of everything going on, so ill only be including the doriathrim and a few other denizens of nargothrond:

it's mostly the older elves that are more undefined/vague with their ages (i.o.w. others like elwing, earendil, the peredhil twins, and most Men all have set dates of birth), so they're all i'll be doing for now. but it's that vagueness which makes hcing all the more enjoyable, isn't it! plus since we’re on this subject, under the cut are just a few headcanons and musings ive had that i wanted to put somewhere 😙

Finarfin and Earwen were born within months of each other! Finwe and Olwe made a Really Big Deal out of when they found out their wives were pregnant at the same time. As a result, the two were often sent on many playdates with each other to “bolster healthy relations” between the Noldor and the Teleri. It wasn’t an arranged marriage situation, but I like to think they were goofy for each other from the start… Resulting in the two eventually getting married as soon as they came of age, the fastest out of all of Finwe’s kids to do so.

The reason the Ambarussa are significantly younger than the other Finweans (especially the Feanorians-- there’s a 100 Valian year gap between them and Curufin alone!) is because I imagine they were accidental babies that even Feanor didn’t expect to conceive. too bad morgoth said "its morgin time!" and started Messing Things Up shortly afterwards.....

Anaire was Lalwen's good friend long before she married Fingolfin; they met through Lalwen who wingmanned Fingolfin the whole time. i like think Anaire'd be the best out of all the wives at keeping good, healthy bonds with all the women of her family :DD

luthien's potential 姐姐/big sis dynamic with all the younger doriathrim elves is something i daydream about a lot 😌 but sometimes the fact that she's older than finarfin keeps me up at night

this has been really fun, so thanks again for asking-- annnd yessir, i am chugging water as i write this so you better be doing the same ❤️ have a great start to your week!

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blixssily · 9 months

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HEYY! Congrats on 100 you totally deserve it🫶! May I ask for a jing yuan x preferably fem!reader, with prompt number 5? “Sleeping in” for your event? <3

Also, your links are Taylor swift lyrics right?? lmao i thought I recognized it the second I found your blog 🤭

prompt 5: sleeping in + jing yuan !

authors notes: hello there! yes my links are taylor swift lyrics HAHAH most of my prompts for my fics are taylor swift lyrics so thank you for noticing! also im sorry that this is so short :((

his arms are wrapped tightly around your waist, his neck buried into your neck. your hand is tangled within his hair, arms around his neck. you can tell its a little late in the morning by the sun is spilling into your shared bedroom through the curtains. "go back to sleep." jing yuan's voice rings through your ears, causing you to look at him. "dont you have work today?" you chuckled, ruffling his hair a little.

"not important, id rather spend my time with you." he pulled you closer, as if to say don't leave me alone

"i don't think your assistants will be very happy about that." your words caused him to grunt as you laugh at his reaction. "there isnt much work to do anyways.. i did most of it yesterday." he tries to reason, trying to convince you to not force him to go to work.

"please? i just want to spend time with you." his golden eyes peer into yours. "fine, but at least make a good excuse to your assistants." he kisses your cheek at this, settling back into the cold sheets of the bed, away from the sun.

you realise that you still have to get to your own job so you try to shift out of his arms, almost sliding off the bed before your lover's wrist loops around yours to pull you back under the blankets. you sigh as you turn towards him.

"i hate you." you sigh out

"you love me you just don't want to admit it."

"i still need to get ready for my job too you know?" you remind him, causing him to wrap his arms tighter around you again to prevent you from leaving. "don't go, i'll call them and tell them you aren't feeling well. you deserve a break too." he mumbles into your neck, his hair tickling you.

"this is the last time i'm sleeping in with you. i can't keep doing this." you laugh into his chest, his hand runs through your hair as he hums. "go back to sleep, lets just stay like this." you lean your head on his chest as you feel your eyes start to droop again with jing yuan's arm wrapped around your waist.

notes and reblogs are heavily appreciated and thank you for participating in this event!

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #jing yuan drabble #cora's event !!

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yunalinwrites · 3 months

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kids on christmas eve | gojo satoru x reader

available on wattpad

cover by me

summary: you learn about what happened with geto suguru and make him talk to you about it

about reader: gender neutral, relationship to gojo is unclear but they're close, on a first name basis + implied to be romantic

warnings: sad (if i did my job right), mild cursing, spoilers for jjk 0 + gojo's past/hidden inventory/star plasma vessel arc

notes: i know this is really out of season bc christmas has long passed but its for the plot lol as u prob know dec 24th is an important date

anyways i prob could've edited more but tbh i just wanted to post it already lmao hope its not cringe cuz i didn't shower to finish it (avg jjk degenerate) also im angry this was correctly formatted in google docs but tumblr ruined it and i cant b bothered to reread it under the new formatting so srry if theres smth wrong

"Gojo-sensei, that's not fair!"

Itadori had his bottom lip stuck out, his arms crossed tightly and his feet stomping against the snow.

"Yeah, come on!" Kugisaki agreed, mitten-clad hands full of the cold ammunition. "Turn it off, will you?"

You looked over to where Satoru stood. The snowballs that floated around him made it a little hard to see, but you could still tell his face was like it always was: smiling, the only deviation from its usual state being the pink on his pale nose. The rosy shade was just like his tongue when he stuck it out.

"Come and make me," he taunted.

"Why, you little..." Kugisaki grumbled. "Okay, Itadori, Formation B!"

"Roger!" Itadori yelled back.

The pair performed a number of flashy poses--as if they were trying to imitate something they'd seen in a cartoon--and before you knew it, they were charging at Satoru from two sides, arms fully loaded and wound back with mounds of snow. But it seemed Satoru knew it before you, because he just tsked--didn't even bother catching the snowballs, just let them fall apart against his forcefield.

"Gojo-sensei!" the two groaned in unison.

"You're no fun!" Itadori complained.

"It's not supposed to be fun," Satoru countered with a playful shrug. "Just because it's a snow day doesn't mean you can stop training."

"But... but... But what about...!" Kugisaki sputtered, a vein popping out of her forehead as she struggled to come up with an argument. You could almost see the lightbulb pop up above her head as she pounded her fist in her palm. "But what about global warming?"

"Yeah!" Itadori followed, not thinking. "What about--Wait, what?" Scratching his head, he tilted his head at Kugisaki.

"It could totally be the last day it ever snows, you know," she claimed matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips. "And I would so hate you forever."

Itadori's mouth formed a silent "Oh!" as Kugisaki elaborated. Nodding his head in accord, he added on: "Yeah, Gojo-sensei. I don't think I could respect you after that."

Satoru put on a dramatic pout at that last sentence, but he soon returned to a smile and gave in with a sigh. "Alright, just this once."

You could see the two students loudly jumping for joy from behind him as he made his way towards where you were sitting. You smiled warmly at the sight.

"They really are something," you commented.

"Tell me about it," Fushiguro grumbled, leaning boredly against the wooden armrest of the park bench. He observed quietly as his friends built a snowman in the distance until Satoru's towering shadow prompted him to look up.

"Megumi!" Satoru called, his voice high-pitched and sing-song. "Go play with the others."

The boy scowled in response. "I'm too old for that stuff."

"You think you're old?" Satoru challenged. He pointed at his hair, at the white color it's always been. "What does that make me?" He hunched over and put his hand on his lower spine, feigning back pain. "C'mon, listen to your teacher. Let me sit next to Y/N."

Fushiguro squinted at him for a moment before finally getting up."Gross."

You chuckled, watching the boy begrudgingly drag his feet through the snow towards his classmates, but your laughter hitched as you felt something push against you. Turning to your right, you saw his lanky teacher. At first the sensation didn’t make sense, considering that there was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you, but you soon recalled his defense measures and the complaints they had garnered.

Not noticing your discomfort, he stared up at the cloudy sky for a moment before turning to you.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I should be asking you," you replied, referencing his lack of winter wear. "Why didn't you wear a coat?"

"Well, it would ruin my outfit, of course," he stated perkily. He wore a confident smirk on his face, but looking closer you could tell he was shivering beneath the thin fabric of his uniform.

Taking a deep breath in disapproval, you reached for your scarf. "Here," you offered, unraveling the knot you’d made earlier. But when you reached to wrap it around his neck, you felt the resistance of his invisible force.

His smile eased. "It's okay," he obliged, sniffling. "Thank you, though."

You hesitated before tying your scarf back around yourself, the garment's chunky knit giving it enough volume to nearly cover your mouth and even your ears, but you could still hear his teeth chatter. You searched your surroundings, looking past the dead snow-adorned trees and following the wet pavement until you spotted something in the distance: a cafe, just down the street from where you were.

"I'll get you some hot chocolate," you decided, standing up and brushing the snowflakes off your coat.

"You don't--"

"Shh!" You pointed your finger threateningly at him before turning around to begin your walk. "Somehow you've bent logic so far that you'll end up sick if you don't drink it. So just take this as an excuse to have more sweets, alright?"

You were just about to make your first step away from the bench, but then you felt a firm grip wrap around your arm. "Wait, Y/N--"

Before he could finish his protest, he was cut off by a particularly firmly packed snowball striking him right in the middle of his face, highlighting his nose with the sparkling white powder and dislodging his blindfold. With his cerulean eyes now exposed, he turned his head and saw the three of them: Itadori pointing and cackling on the left, Kugisaki doing the same keeled over in the middle, and even Fushiguro, on the right, had the ends of his mouth perked up as he shook his head hopelessly.

You saw Satoru grin at the picture, but it was contradictory to what you were feeling. He had let go of your arm, but not by relaxing his hand--you felt him, as if brick by brick, build that invisible wall right back up between you, seemingly stronger than ever. You could still feel it, even as he walked away towards the trio, tying his blindfold back on. Sighing, you sat back down and watched him make snow angels with the others, his head blending right in with the scene as he drowned himself in the blinding whiteness. With his blindfold now fully on, you could only imagine what it was like when he smiled with his eyes.

***

"I can't feel my toes."

Twirling her brown hair between her fingers, Shoko spun around in her chair to face the doorway.

She darted her eyes between you and Satoru for a second before a calm, amused expression painted her face. Despite knowing it was his voice she heard--though it was more nasal than usual--she directed her question at you: "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I told him to wear thicker socks!" you exclaimed, your arms crossed in frustration. "But look! Show her."

Rolling his eyes behind his blindfold, Satoru pulled the fabric on his thighs, lifting the hems of his pants so that they revealed his ankles. They were barely covered by the cheap red and green striped polyester; it was the kind of thing you'd spot on sale in packs at the checkouts during Christmas season.

“So I forgot… Big deal!”

“I could fill a library with all the things you forgot,’” you complained. “I mean, what are you, a fish?”

Unfazed, Shoko chuckled. "You're telling me the strongest--the one powerful enough to rival the King of Curses--was defeated by a case of frostbite?"

The both of you responded simultaneously: "Exactly." "No!"

"I was not defeated," he insisted, earning a glare from you. "Barely a scratch. She's just being dramatic."

"I am not--"

"Is there a reason you can't heal yourself?" Shoko interrupted, now turned to Satoru.

He pointed his thumb in your direction accusingly. "She wanted to come here, not me."

"Wait," you interjected. "You can heal yourself?”

“Of course, duh.”

“Since when?"

"High school," he answered dismissively, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "See, look!"

He pointed down to his shoes--through the leather of his dress boots, you could see the movement of his wriggling toes.

You held your hands up to hide his feet from your sight. “Ew, stop that--" you grimaced. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, smirking smugly. "My talent should go without saying."

You sighed. “Your talent to bewilder me?”

"You know it,” he asserted proudly. "But anyways–Can I go now?"

Before you could even answer, you could sense him already moving in your peripheral vision.

"Satoru, wait--"

"If you don't believe I'm fine, I'll show you my toes," he threatened, halfway out the door.

"Satoru--!"

"Go on, catch me if you can!"

You listened, trying to grab onto him but, once again, his Infinity blocked you, making you stumble into Shoko's arms as it pushed you backwards. By the time you regained your balance and rushed into the hallway, his long strides and newly healed feet had already carried him beyond your sight.

You sighed and re-entered the room, brushing yourself off. "Do you have anything for a cold?" you asked.

"I should," Shoko replied, opening up one of her medicine cabinets. "Why, are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, no, it's for him," you explained. "He's had a runny nose all week. I told him not to go out in the snow with the kids, but... You know how he is."

She hummed in acknowledgement with an understated smile, picking out a bottle of Acetaminophen capsules. Making her way over to you, she held up the container.

"I have these," she told you, but she didn't hand them to you; she just kept holding it up as she continued, "but, in my professional opinion, I don't think he has a cold."

"What do you mean?" you asked, your brow raised.

"Y/N, do you know what tomorrow is?"

"It's... the 24th."

"Mhm."

"So... Christmas Eve?"

She looked down at the floor, placing the bottle on a nearby counter and leaning back against it, getting comfortable. She stayed quiet for a moment, biting her lip in deep thought as she continued to stare at the floor with her arms crossed. But then, finally, she sighed, and reached into her coat pocket for a cigarette.

"Would you like one?" she offered, flicking the lighter at the end of the stick

"Um... No thank you..."

"Have a seat." She gestured to the metal seat against the wall.

Still thoroughly confused, you did as you were told. You felt as if your parents were about to have a stern "talk" with you--as if you had broken a vase or--arguably worse--it was time for you to understand the birds and the bees. That thought, along with the cold steel beneath you, sent chills up your body.

In an attempt to quell your anxiety, you beat her to the punch and spoke up: "You went to high school together, didn't you?"

She blew out a lengthy tangle of smoke strings. "That's right," she answered.

You shifted in your seat. "Has he always been... like this?"

"No,” she chuckled, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. "He used to wear glasses."

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned forward in shock. "Seriously?"

She reached into her coat pocket again, this time producing a small print of a photo.

You took the glossy sheet from her hands and studied it, your mouth agape. Sure enough, there he was, on Shoko's right, smiling widely with his hair down and a pair of round sunglasses, both of them holding up peace signs. But, while Shoko's arm was clearly holding up the camera for the selfie, one of Satoru’s arms appeared to be wrapped around the shoulders of a black-haired man you didn't recognize.

Your brows furrowed at the sight. "Who's the one on the left?"

The scent of the nicotine got stronger as she took her time to ponder her answer, staring blankly into the back of the photo beneath your thumbs.

"That's Geto Suguru,” she finally told you.

You scanned his portrait meticulously. The man wore a grumpy expression with dark bags under his eyes and, contrary to the cheerful pose of the other two, he was flipping off the camera.

“Was he an upperclassman?” you asked.

She shook her head. “He was our classmate.” She gestured towards the photo with her cigarette. “We were all second-years there.”

“No way…” Holding the photo closer, you could have sworn you saw the outline of ear gauges behind Shoko’s head. “He looks so much older.”

You returned the photo to her and she slipped it back in her pocket, not taking even a glance at it as she did. She just spoke plainly: “He’s Satoru’s best friend.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Really? I wonder why I haven’t heard of him, then."

She took another puff, turning her face away from you as she let it out. “Tomorrow is his death anniversary.”

Your eyes widened before falling to the floor. “Oh… I see…”

You fell into a solemn trance, not knowing what you should or shouldn’t say and, consequently, opting to stay quiet out of respect. But, suddenly, you were interrupted by the sound of light laughter.

“Even if he were still with us, I doubt you would’ve been able to tell. They bickered so much you’d think they hated each other.”

She walked around to the other side of the counter, leaning forward on it as she rested her hand on her palm.

“Who could get to class faster… Who could shoot more hoops in a minute… Who could make a bigger crater in the courtyard…”

You tried to imagine the pair wreaking havoc on an older version of the Jujutsu Tech Campus, but while it was easy to fit Satoru’s cheeky grin into all of these scenarios, it was hard to see such a mature-looking person as Geto doing these childish things.

“Ah, but you know, Y/N,” she started, looking up at you with a smile. “I think you would have been able to tell that Suguru was actually younger.”

“What?” you gasped, surprised at both the fact that he was younger and that Shoko thought that would be clear to you. “There’s no way…”

“Well, for starters, Suguru is shorter, if you put them side-by-side,” she argued. “And… Hm…”

She stopped to contemplate how to put together her next sentence–or if she should even do so at all. But in the end, she brought her cigarette back to her lips and exhaled: “I think you would have agreed with me that he’s the more immature one.”

Your brows furrowed as you scoffed in disbelief. “That's impossible… Satoru could be ten-feet tall and not a single thing on this planet could make him seem more mature than another person.”

She chuckled, though you could sense a sadness behind the sound, and you realized that your comment might’ve come off as insensitive. Clearing your throat, awkwardly, you granted her the floor: “What makes you say that?”

She took another inhale and sighed out a long cloud. Looking out the window of her office, she saw the faint glow of the multicolored lights that decorated it on the outside. She took in the sight for a quiet moment before sinking into her swivel chair, puffing once more.

“I still don’t know much about his childhood,” she began. “I never asked, and I never got to meet his parents. But I can tell you for certain that Suguru was the sort of kid who threw a tantrum when he didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas.

“I’m sure he had wishlists a mile long, but he wouldn’t be the kind to write even a single letter about it to Santa. Of course, that’d make it difficult for his family, and maybe they could've tried harder to figure it out–but he just wouldn't understand why what he wanted wasn't obvious to everyone.

“I can imagine one day someone told him the truth about Santa, and he was probably absolutely devastated. But, to him, it wouldn't be about the presents. It would be about the people around him: his mom, his dad, his teachers, his neighbors, everyone–the people who had been deceiving him his whole life.

“I don't think he ever forgave anyone for that, all the way up until he found himself as a seventeen-year-old at Jujutsu High.”

The air became thick–suffocatingly so–and your spine no longer fit right against the back of the bench.

“What exactly… did he do?”

She rolled her chair towards her desk and put out her cigarette, pushing and twisting it into the ashtray by her desk calendar.

“In a single night, he killed one hundred and twelve civilians–non-sorcerers–including his parents. He wanted to create a world where only sorcerers exist.”

“O-oh my God…” Your hand rose up to cover your gaping mouth. “Wh.. Why?!”

“By killing non-sorcerers, you stop curses from the source.”

“But you can't just–” You cut yourself off, thousands of words rushing and racing to your mouth. “Didn't anyone try to stop him?”

“Maybe Satoru could've. If Suguru decided to tell him, that is.”

Your face was wound up in concern. “That's horrible…”

“I know, right?” she casually agreed. “To want to be understood, but never willing to understand… Isn't it childish?” She even laughed. “Though, I suppose he was just a kid.”

“Just a kid?!” You stuck your head out in disbelief. “No, no… Satoru is childish. But that–that’s… inhumane!

You pointed to the door. “Satoru was a kid.”

You pointed to her. “You were a kid.”

Lowering your hand, you scrunched the hem of your shirt. “I might not have known you then, but I know you never would have done that.”

“To be fair, I'm not the strongest,” she defended plainly. “I'm just a doctor.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepened as you threw your arms up. “Okay–then Satoru! Satoru would never do something like that! And he… he's still a kid!”

“Satoru killed his best friend–his one and only.” She clasped her hands together on her desk. “A kid wouldn't do that, would they?”

You froze at the edge of your seat, blinking rapidly as you pieced together the puzzle.

“He… killed…?” you trailed off.

Shoko stared grimly at her hands as she tightened her grip on herself. “A kid wouldn’t have understood.”

You bore your eyes into her, waiting, begging for her to continue, to elaborate, to make it make sense, but she just stayed quiet, kept to herself.

You directed your eyes to the freshly polished floor tiles. As you stared into the blurry reflection of yourself, you tried imagining it again: Satoru, tall and white haired, and this kid grumpy little kid he called Suguru, wreaking havoc on the old campus of Jujutsu High: walking to class together, dribbling a basketball between each other, meeting up in the courtyard with one another.

“That…” you began hesitantly. “That still doesn't excuse what happened.”

Shoko looked up at you, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and though she wasn’t as contented as she had been before your conversation, her expression was no longer grave; she seemed satisfied. Slowly, she put her palms on her desk and pushed herself up from her seat.

“To answer your question from earlier–properly,” she started, making her way over to you. “I think that Satoru has always been that way–the way Gojo Satoru has to be.”

“But if there were ever a time that he weren’t,” she interjected, sliding her hand into her coat pocket.

“It would have been thanks to him.”

***

Your footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, stopping every once in a while to slide open one of the stiff doors only to struggle to shut it a moment later. You increased the reach of your steps, and the thump of your shoes against the wood planks competed with the hooting owl perched on the snow covered roof.

Suddenly, you heard a new noise: a honking, like that of a goose, coming from the end of the hall and slightly to the left. Now picking up to a jog, you made a beeline for the door and jerked it open.

“Well, if it isn’t my long-awaited Christmas present!” he exclaimed. “Looks like Santa’s early this year.”

He rested against the corner of one of the student’s desks, already facing you with his hands in his pocket. From behind him, you could just barely see the white crumpled-up balls of tissue that scattered the surface.

“I guess some people do gifts on Christmas Eve though, right?” he considered, putting a finger to his chin. “But, ah… choosing gifts is so hard. I need all the time I can get.”

He didn’t acknowledge your entrance at all; his Six Eyes had seen it coming miles away, allowing him enough time to get into position to pick up wherever you’d last left off. You didn’t acknowledge him either, keeping a stone face as you stepped into the room.

“What’s with the face, hm? Did you not like your presents?”

“Satoru,” you said sternly.

“Did you ask Santa for anything this year?” he went on, continuing to pay you no mind.

You sighed. You couldn’t help but let the ends of your lips pick up, but you kept your eyes down at the dirtied pattern of the floor.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” you admit.

“What? Why not?” he questioned astonishedly, forming a pout. “Does that mean you didn’t get me a present?”

You shook your head lightly, making your way over to him. “I’ve always thought it was sort of weird. To celebrate the birth of a martyr.”

“Hm,” he sounded. “Well that’s no fun.”

Planting his hands on the surface, he hoisted himself up onto his desk. “Santa probably wouldn’t give anything other than coal to a non-believer,” he noted. “But since I’m so nice, I’ll get you something. Just tell me–what is it that you want for Christmas?”

His smile stayed in place as you darted your pupils around his visage, your own face beginning to fall. You took slow steps towards the desk next to him, getting as close as you could before you felt his Infinity push back

“Satoru, can you do me a favor?” you requested gently.

“Depends on what the favor is,” he chirped back.

Reaching your hand out, you traced your forefinger on the edge of the invisible barrier before applying pressure into it, testing the shield’s strength. You pushed with all your might, but all it did was whiten your finger tip and make your knuckles concave.

You retracted, looking back into his eyes. “Can you take it down?”

You could see the movement of his eyebrows raising beneath his blindfold. “You tryna kill me?”

Again, you shook your head, still solemn.

He crossed his arms and squinted at you, biting his cheek. Leaning back, he put his weight onto his hands behind him, loosely grabbing the edge of his desk, his expression becoming relaxed. “Alright. Here you go.”

You took another small step into the newfound space until you were only inches apart. Slowly, you extended both your hands towards his face, but then suddenly reeled them back into a hesitant fist in disbelief, the lack of resistance uncomfortably foreign.

You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled the air shakily through your mouth, trying hard to slow the rapid beating in your chest. Ignoring the smirk on his face, you tried to reach out to him, one final time.

Letting your arms wrap around his head, your hands searched his silky hair for the knot that held up his eye covering. When you finally felt the bump, you took your time digging your nails into where the fabric held onto itself, carefully pulling apart its loops.

As the blindfold fell to his neckline, his signature grin stayed plastered on his face, but just about every other feature of his seemed to change completely when the white wisps came down to frame them. His azure eyes, for example, glimmered under the faint moonlight coming through the window, but not in the way that they usually did. They were shining like lacquer, but it was as if, from underneath that, their batteries had been taken out. In their dullness, you could see the reflection of the long white lashes resting on the eyelids above, forming sharp, unnatural shapes as they clumped together unevenly. Pink waterlines painted the bottom of his irises, and a faint red was seemingly airbrushed around the surrounding puffy skin.

You trailed your hands down the back of his head until they cupped his jawline, holding his face as you explored its entirety. Moving from his eyes to his flushed, leaking nose, his smirk grew when your gaze landed on his lips.

“Are you sure you want to use your gift on this?” he teased. “Kind of a waste, in my opinion–you could’ve just found a mistletoe.”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to stop smiling.”

For a moment, he listened to you: his mouth fell open, but then it fell back into its previous position as he flashed his teeth at you. “My bad. I didn’t mean to blind you.”

“Please?”

He kept still while your thumb gently stroked his powder-smooth cheek. He jolted slightly as his lungs forced out a nervous chuckle, but he trailed off as your touch continued on him. Realizing your relentlessness, he sucked in his lips and clamped them together with his teeth as if he was trying to stop any further laughter.

He stayed like this for a moment, waiting for you to let go, but your tender movements showed no signs of stopping–you only slowed down when your eyes flitted up to meet his. He tried his best to return your stare, but eventually, he accepted defeat in the contest. And so, little by little, he let his lips roll out and the muscles to dispose into a resting state.

His voice became low, a near whisper. “Is… everything okay?”

Finally removing your hands from him, you nodded. Returning them to yourself, you glided one into the back pocket of your pants.

Taking a step back, you held up the sheet of glossy photo paper side-by-side with his face. You could name a number of differences: the neckline of the teacher’s uniform was looser and higher, his bangs now were longer and a bit thicker, and, of course, he wasn’t wearing glasses, and he wasn’t smiling. But, somehow, now more than ever, you could see the resemblance.

“What have you got there?”

Moving towards him again, you handed him the photo. It felt strange, witnessing the rare sight of his pupils’ every rapid move. And in addition to that, ever so slightly, you could see his swollen under eyes rise as the softest of smiles pushed up his cheeks. It was nothing like the sickeningly-sweet beamings you were used to seeing from him, though; it was subdued, raw like the cacao in dark chocolate, undiluted by sugar or milk.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, incredulous.

“Like you said, Santa came early,” you joked mildly.

“No, really,” he persisted, his tone reaching a bass you’d never heard from him before. “Where did you get this?”

You sat yourself on the desk next to him. “Shoko,” you admitted.

“What did she tell you?”

Your shrug was subtle. “As much as she could.”

He continued to scrutinize the photo in his hands, his brows drawing together.

“Satoru,” you proceeded, hushed. “If it’s okay… I’d like it if you told me about it.”

He lowered the photo so that it no longer obstructed his view of you, but he didn’t take advantage of the space he gave himself; he kept staring at the photo as he spoke: “There’s not much to tell about. I was the strongest then and I’m the strongest now.”

You rested your hands on your lap and exhaled deeply. “That’s not what I mean,” you contested.

It was as if he couldn’t hear you, continuing to stare vapidly into the photo as if somehow your sentence didn’t make it to his ears. But that was impossible; you’d said what you said, and the room was dead silent.

“I… I want you to tell me about him,” you clarified.

He shifted in his seat, finally looking away from the photo and up at you. “You mean… Geto Suguru?” he asked, as if there were any other ‘him’ in that photo.

“Well… he’s the worst of all curse users,” he offered. He then shoved the photo back in your direction, a sudden grin straining itself on his face. “But it’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Ignoring his move, you asked, “Is it really okay?”

“I made sure of it,” he affirmed, impatiently nudging the paper at you.

He resumed his usual playful lilt. “Are you doubting me?” he tested.

“I don’t doubt you for a second–not in that sense. You’ve always been strong,” you reassured him. “But that’s exactly why I doubt you know how to be weak.”

He scoffed. “You think Gojo Satoru would know how to be weak?”

“No, I don’t. That’s my whole point,” you upheld firmly.

He folded his arms across his chest, his mocking tone sharpening: “Why would anyone want to know how to be weak?”

“Because even Gojo Satoru needs to realize he can’t just smile and laugh all the time,” you challenged, feeling heat rise up your neck.

His eyes darkened, seemingly into a navy blue, and his inflection further condescended: “There are a lot of things you don’t understand.”

“Satoru, how on earth am I supposed to understand?!”

As your tone cut through, just as abruptly you pushed the desk behind you and dropped heavily to your feet.

“You’re right, I don't understand you,” you confessed frustratedly, pointing to yourself. “I don’t understand you at all. Because how could I possibly understand you? I can’t see your eyes, I can’t even get near you, and I’ve never seen you not smile.”

Your voice made gaps as your vocal cords threatened sobs. “And sure, I call you by your first name, and I laugh and I smile at all your dumb jokes and… and the idiotic games you play…

“But it’s–it’s… scary, Satoru. Creepy, even. How you know just about everything there is to know about me and yet… It's like I don’t even know who you are. You’re just a toy in the corner, watching everyone come in and out of the room, but I can never make you say or be or feel anything.”

“Feelings are what made him into who he was,” he stated coldly, his eyes fixed on the grimy floor. “It’s important for sorcerers to have a hold on their emotions.”

“So you know what happens, then,” you argued firmly, your shoes coming into his view as you stepped closer. “You know what it’s like to be shut out from them.”

You pushed his chin up, forcing him to witness the way you were holding on desperately to the tears that bordered your lower waterline.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Do you always get Sprite?” he’d asked, looking down as his friend retrieved his drink from the bottom of the machine.

“I mean… yeah, I guess,” Suguru replied plainly. “Why?”

A pit formed in his stomach as he heard the crack of the can opening.

“Shit. I’ve been getting you Coke this whole time,” he’d mumbled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Suguru shrugged, beginning to head in the direction of the classroom. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Dude, are you good?”

Suguru jolted awake, sitting up from the plush back of the couch and nearly spilling the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” he’d suggested, but Suguru just shook his head.

“I thought you liked Digimon,” Suguru objected.

“Well yeah, but…”

The only lighting came from the flashing screen, but it was enough for him to see his friend yawn, making his eyes water, dark bags underneath them.

“You can turn it up if you want,” was all Suguru had to say, but even after doing what Suguru said, he couldn’t focus on his favorite TV show.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything,” he started, reaching into his bag. “But here.”

“What’s this?” Suguru questioned.

“Your Christmas present, duh.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Suguru pointed out. “And I told you–”

“I know! But just open it.”

He watched as Suguru lifted the lid of the small gray box, revealing a small pair of white gauges.

“I didn’t really know what size to get… But I think they’d look cool on you.”

“Thanks, Satoru.”

He lit up, thinking that he’d finally done something right by his friend, but the way that Suguru looked up at him, the way Suguru smiled insincerely, told him he should’ve waited for Christmas Day.

The tears were warm as they rolled down his face, past his trembling lip and blooming into the blindfold that rested loosely around his neck.

“I just don't understand why he didn’t talk to me.”

You pulled him into a hug, carding your fingers in his hair as you rested his head on your shoulder.

“He thought I hated him,” he told you shakily, finding himself clutching onto your shirt. “I didn’t see him for ten years and… and that whole time he thought I hated him.”

He inhaled a sharp sniffle. “I… I don’t hate him,” he whimpered, his pitch jumping and his body beginning to tremble. “I don’t hate him, Y/N, I don’t, I don’t, I never, ever did.”

“I know,” you whispered, stroking his hair, holding him tighter as he jerked with sobs.

He placed his head on your shoulder, staring at the blindfold that had unraveled itself and fallen between you. “I hate myself.”

You pulled back, cupping his jawline and holding it in front of you.

“Don’t say that…”

“But he was my best friend, Y/N,” he insisted, gripping desperately onto your shoulders. “I saw him every single day… every single day, all of that was running through his head and I… I didn’t even know… I just watched and… and I made him think I hated him. I was supposed to be his best friend.”

“You did everything you could, Satoru.”

“It was all my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did it happen?” he whined. “It had to have been for a reason–It can't just hurt and be for no reason. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s not,” you told him, shaking your head gently and looking deeply into his eyes. “It’s not fair at all.”

Indicating the breaking of a dam, a deafening, siren-like wail pierced the air. His face was red and scrunched up, his nose was dripping with snot, and his hands were coming up to swipe desperately at the tears on his cheeks.

You pulled him close to you again as he kept hiccuping and sniffling into the crook of your neck. His loud weeping wet your shirt with both the fluids from his eyes and nose, but you didn’t care; you just rubbed his back, caressing him tenderly.

His voice was suddenly clearer as he took deep breaths to try and recuperate himself: “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Why are you sorry?” you asked, stiffening your hold on him.

“I just… I don’t know. I hate crying. I’m not a kid anymore, you know?” he tried laughing.

“Satoru,” you whispered delicately, turning your head so your words rested right by his ear. “You were never a kid.”

Gently, you pressed his head into you, stopping him from moving his lips in any way. “I want you to be one right now.”

You let him stay in your arms for a while until his tears subsided and his breathing steadied. You had moved to the floor at some point, allowing him to comfortably lean on you as you embraced him, his previous quivering replaced now by the calm rhythm of his rising and falling figure.

He hadn’t talked in a while, so you assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then, among his mellow breathing, a mumble came up right by your ear:

“Thank you,” he’d said.

Hugging him tighter, you patted him on the back softly. “Of course.”

As one hand traveled to intertwine its fingers in his hair, you reached for your phone with your other one.

You pressed the power button on its side, and flinched backward, squinting at the brightness your phone screen emitted. Despite your sudden movement, Satoru didn’t show any sort of reaction; he’d fallen asleep, for sure now.

You continued to comb through his white locks, a little more consciously now, as you made note of the time and date your phone’s clock displayed, changing right before your eyes:

December 25th, 00:00

You smiled, dragging your coat up to cover the both of you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

***

might do a toji x megumi's teacher reader if u wanna follow

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #satoru gojo

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writeroutoftime · 4 months

Note

HEYYY!!!! can i request prompt 14 (from the prompts list you reblogged) with jack thompson? :D

like a work rivals to lovers au where you run into jack and his family out and he has to awkwardly introduce the two of you? idk i just love socially awkward jack i think its so cute 😭😭 youre 100% free to change anything (its your fic after all) or use completely different idea IDM!! i just love jack thompson so any story involving him is immediately gonna be a work of art to me lmao

THANK YOU!! 🫶🫶💕💕

a/n: hi there!! oh my gosh, THANK YOU for requesting a jack story!! if it's just you and me on the jack thompson train, I am here for it lol - and I just love this story idea! really hope you enjoy! (p.s. I know you requested another fic forever ago, I promise I am going to write it - writer's block has been real though!)

oOoOo

The subway platform was crowded as always, but one tall, blonde mop of hair stood out to you just a few feet away. He looked as smug as ever, even while glancing down at his watch in what appeared to be exasperation.

"Thompson?" you called out in confirmation before you could stop yourself.

His ears perked up and his eyes widened as he identified your voice, taking a few steps towards you. "y/l/n." he addressed, but quickly flinched. It was then you noticed the two figures that flanked him; in particular, how the woman swatted her hand at his shoulder.

"Jack! Is that anyway to address a lady?" she exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Sorry, Ma." he spoke over his shoulder. "Uh, y/n, h-how are you?" he asked, somewhat taken aback. "Ma, Pa, this is y/n y/l/n, we work together. y/n, these are my parents."

"It's really nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Thompson." you said, reaching your hand out to shake hands with his parents.

As she shook your hand tightly, Jack's mother's face lit up with recognition. "Oh, y/n! Jack has told us so much about you!"

You couldn't help but chuckle, knowing your tense work relationship with their son. "I'm sure all bad things."

"On the contrary, dear." she laughed herself. "All we hear is 'y/n this, y/n that.' How smart you are, talented as agent, how you've saved his skin on a number of occasions."

"Really now?" you preened, crossing your arms across your chest, unable to hold back your smirk.

Jack's face burned a bright red as he tried to take a calming breath. "No, Ma, don't tell her I said that about her." he ground out.

"No, no, please continue, Mrs. Thompson." you said.

This was a side of Jack you never thought you'd see, and you didn't want it to end now. Sadly, before she could continue you saw your train approaching. Your shoulders sagged in disappointment, but you noticed that the Thompsons also looked ready to board the same train.

"Are you heading uptown as well?" Mrs. Thompson asked, a hint of excitement and scheming in her eyes. "Would you like to join us for dinner, dear?"

Off to the side you could see Jack's jaw drop in shock, his face just returning to its normal shade. But despite that, you quickly nodded your head and linked arms with his mother. "I would love to!"

Well, this would be interesting.

#jack thompson x reader #jack thompson imagine #agent carter imagine #marvel imagine #rita writes

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tathrin · 11 months

Note

6... on a falling tear and 38... because they're running out of time （＾ω＾）

Oh how lovely and tragic, very nice choices! Thank you very much for the ask. I'll split them up into two separate posts because I'm incapable of ever writing anything succinct though, sigh! Prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox lmao).

#38....because they’re running out of time. [mood music anyone?]

“Never thought I’d die as a diversion,” Gimli muttered, watching as Sauron’s army poured out of the Black Gates and surrounded the two small hills on which Aragorn had arrayed their forces.

Gimli could not count the teeming numbers of the enemy that stood before him—they were too many, too foul—but Legolas had the keen eyes of the elves, and he had told Gimli that their force of six thousand was outnumbered at least ten-to-one. They were not all orcs, either, which would have been bad enough; for surely each troll should be counted six or seven times at least.

The hills would help, Gimli thought numbly, at least a little; the incline would grant the defenders an advantage over the enemy that would have to scramble to climb up at them, and the slag pools of fetid Mordor that surrounded the low hillocks would be another impediment—but it would not be enough.

They had known it would not be enough even before they set out for the Black Gates, and they had all of them come anyway. Gimli did not regret his choice to follow his friends into doom, no; but that did not make the moment of the end any less bitter. And that moment was almost here, now; they were running out of time.

The enemy paused at the feet of the hills, hissing and cursing and some of them even spitting, and Gimli spun his axe to stretch his shoulders in anticipation of the battle to come.

He stood near the front, with Aragorn and Legolas and most of the mightiest of their fighters, where the attack would surely be the thickest. He eyed one lumbering troll that was pushing its way through the milling ranks of orcs, an ugly line of drool hanging off one side of its jaw where broken teeth distorted its already ugly grin into something macabre and ghoulish.

“Gimli,” Legolas said, standing so close beside him, his voice light with echoes of distant birdsong, and Gimli could feel himself smiling in instinctive response even as his heart twisted in sorrow at the thought of what was soon to come for them both. “Gimli,” Legolas said, “may I—I would ask a very great favor of you, my friend, if you would indulge me, please.”

“Of course,” Gimli said immediately. He turned to look up at the elf beside him, standing like a slender ray of sunlight in that bleak land, and tried to hide his breaking heart behind his smile. He could not imagine what sort of favor Legolas might ask at this late juncture—or if he could, then it was a favor that need not be spoken aloud, for Gimli had already vowed to himself that he would not allow the enemy to take this elf alive for torment when the battle ended and their defeat enfolded them.

“Anything, Legolas, you know that.”

Legolas gave a strange, half-choked laugh, and pressed his free hand to his face as though smother some strong feeling; with his other, of course, he held the mighty bow of the Galadhrim that the Lady had given him, and Gimli’s heart gave another pang at the thought of three golden strands tucked away safely behind white walls far away, waiting for a dwarf who would never return to reclaim them—but then Legolas moved, and Gimli’s eyes were drawn instead to tight golden braids that swayed before him as the slender Wood-elf suddenly swayed like a falling sapling and bent down close to Gimli’s face.

He caught Gimli’s bearded cheek with his hand and turned the dwarf’s face up to meet him, and then—oh, and then Legolas was kissing him and Gimli’s mind seemed to dissolve in a blaze of starlight. His whole world narrowed down to those smooth lips pressed so tight and hungry to his own; those long fingers twined so gently through his beard to cup his chin in their narrow palm; the brush of heavy golden braids against Gimli’s shoulders as Legolas bent low over him...

Belatedly, Gimli realized that he had reached up to press his hand to the elf’s face as well; he only noticed when the pad of his thumb brushed against the tip of one long pointed ear and Legolas’s breath hitched in both their mouths.

The drew apart, Legolas swaying back upright with a last lingering flutter of his fingers against Gimli’s beard before he pulled away. Gimli’s jaw worked soundlessly around words that would not come,his wide eyes fixed so fervently on the beautiful, beardless face before him that he almost forgot the stink of the orcs and the jeers of their ugly voices in his ears.

“Forgive me the liberty, I pray,” Legolas rasped. His mithril-bright eyes shimmered with unshed tears, in that moment looking suddenly so like the pool of the Mirrormere that Gimli almost felt as though he had been transported somehow back to the hills outside Khazad-dûm, and this desperate death at the doors of Mordor made into naught but a terrible dream.

But the creeping tendrils of fear that marked the approach of the Nazgûl was no dream; nor were the thundering steps of the trolls as they began to scale the hills, nor the shouts of the orcs as they struggled to follow. In moments, the enemy would be upon them. There was so much Gimli wanted, needed, to say; but they were running out of time.

“There is—there is nothing to forgive, Legolas,” he managed to croak.

“I am relieved to hear it,” Legolas replied. “For I could not bear to die without ever kissing you, Gimli.”

Gimli reached up for those golden braids and bright eyes again. “Legolas—!”

Legolas flashed him a brief, bright, heartbroken smile, and then turned away to face the enemy as the orcs rushed towards them. Gimli raised his axe more out of habit than intention and stepped up beside the elf. “Legolas...” he tried again, but his head was reeling and he could not find the words he wished to craft; they all slipped through his mental fingers, like he was trying to scoop cave-cold water with naught but his bare hands.

Then the first troll reached them, bellowing as it knocked three soldiers of Gondor off their feet to tumble down the hill towards the waiting blades of the orcs below. Gimli growled and gripped his axe, and then suddenly Legolas was scaling the troll, blasted fool of an elf that he was!

“Legolas!” Gimli shouted again, and raced to follow him into the fight.

The troll was too slow to catch the nimble elf, but its attempts to do so blunted its attention to the axe in Gimli’s hand as he hacked at its knees. The creature roared belatedly in anger, even as thick blood wept down its legs. It reached down to try and swat Gimli away, and Legolas scampered across its shoulders and drove his long knife in deep into the troll’s eye. Even that was not enough to kill the beast, but when two Rohirrim came up with long spears the troll was too woozy with pain and blood-loss to bat the weapons away from its throat.

It went down with a thud and a cry of rage rose from the orcs in response. Legolas skipped away from the body and landed on the ground again at Gimli’s side. Shaking with fear, anger, and adrenaline, Gimli caught him by the wrist and gave the elf a shake. “Don’t do that again!” he shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Legolas laughed, fey and unfettered, his merriment as sharp and keen as his arrows. He slashed his knife through the throat of a climbing orc and twisted easily away from the resulting spray of black blood. “Gimli, we are all going to die here,” he said, wiping the blade clean on the skirt of his tunic before sheathing it and drawing his bow once more. “Put aside your fears, my dear; we have moved beyond that now. All that is left to us is to make our deaths worthy of those that came before us, and to sell our lives dearly enough that we might hope to buy enough time for others to save all those who may come after from this Shadow.”

His arrows flew true, burying themselves in throats and eyes and black-blooded hearts even as he looked back at the dwarf more often than he did at the oncoming orcs. In Legolas’s eyes, Gimli could see the glimmer of all the years together they would never have; could see the crumbling eternity of an immortal life cut short and the unscalable chasm that lay forever between the fates of elves and dwarves, sundering them from one another for all time even unto the breaking of the world.

This, he realized, was all the time they were ever going to have.

Tears stung his eyes, hot and bitter. It was not enough. It would never, ever be enough—and it did not matter, because there was no more to be had.

Gimli shook his head, swallowing down the urge to weep; he had to focus on the orcs. There were too many coming up the sides of the hill now, too fierce; it was all Gimli could do to swing his axe in time to block their blows and cut them down. It was all he could do to keep close to Legolas’s side, the elf now reduced to fighting with nothing but his long white knife. There were maybe half a handful of arrows in his quiver yet, but even elvish speed was insufficient to allow for proper archery at sight a tight distance in this tumult.

Oh, why had Gimli not seen to it that his elf was better armed before they rode off to this final battle? Legolas was deadly with that little knife, yes, but oh it seemed so short in his long fingers. Why had Gimli not sought the armories of Gondor, and borrowed some mightier blade for his friend? Why had he not sought the forges, and made him one to suit his lanky frame?

He was such a fool. What had he been wasting his time on instead, when he could have—should have—been seeing to Legolas’s safety?

When he could have been kissing him?

Gimli growled, and swung his axe harder, and watched one burly uruk go down gurgling and clutching at its guts. Gimli swung again, and its head toppled free and he could turn to the next enemy, the next threat. Beside him, Legolas whirled and slashed in a flurry of golden braids and a black-blooded blade. He lunged over Gimli’s head to slit the throat of an orc that was angling a spear towards Gimli’s ribs as Gimli kicked-out low and took the feet out from under another orc that had managed to get a grimy hand around one of those bright braids.

“Away from him!” Gimli bellowed, and the orc feel back squealing over the stump of its arm. Gimli stepped closer to the elf—his elf—and they ended up fighting back-to-back, or back-to-shoulders at least; their disparate heights should have made them terrible battle-partners, but it was so easy to fall into a rhythm with Legolas, a balancing of their skills and statures. Legolas spun high with his short knife and Gimli swung low with his broad axe, and the enemy gave way before them.

But more came, replacing those that fell. Always more came, and the fight went on. Gimli could feel his limbs tiring, his bones aching from the weight of his blade and the blows that had glanced off his mail. A dozen small cuts he could not remember taking bled sluggishly, adding a dull sheen of red to the viscous black liquid that splattered his armor and his skin.

More came, and the Nazgûl followed, and all around them men shrieked and cowered beneath that mindless fear. Gimli fought on, so numb with grief that he barely startled at the cry that the eagles had come. That felt unreal, like something out of some other story; one that had a better ending than theirs. Despair rolled thick across the Host of the West and even Gimli, stout-hearted dwarf that he was, faltered for a moment before it—

And then Legolas laughed.

There was nothing merry in that sound, and the only brightness was the sharp brightness of a pale blade flashing out of the shadows of tall black trees. It was a laugh full of teeth, and claws, and all the dark and dangerous things that lurk within a wood. It was the sort of laugh that would send wise folk fleeing for strong walls and sturdy doors; the sort of laugh that might send children shivering to hide under their beds and wait for dawn. It was the laugh of a wild thing, untamed and dangerous, and it rang out light and sharp-edged above the gutteral shouts and screams of the orcs and the roaring bellows of the trolls.

Legolas laughed, and Gimli smiled to hear it. He lifted his head high against the weight of Mordor’s bleak despair and raised his axe high once more. Legolas was right; there was no longer any cause for fear. They had faced the end already, and the end was here; there was no sense cowering before it. Better to stand tall, and die fighting proud and unbowed, defying the power of the Dark Lord to the last.

And then—and then, on the other side of fear, after all hope seemed so long lost it was little more than a memory, everything changed.

The Nazguûl fled; the army crumbled; the towers fell.

Sauron was destroyed. And they had lived.

They lived.

Gimli could hardly process it. He turned to Legolas, still at his side, the both of them weary and blood-stained and heartsick from the tangled mingling of hope and despair, and he opened his mouth to speak—but no words came out.

He saw all their tomorrows flow suddenly back into Legolas’s bright eyes and the elf swayed, as though the sudden lifting of the Shadow had left him unsteady on his light feet. Gimli caught his hand and held him steady.

“Legolas—” Gimli began.

“Tomorrow,” Legolas interrupted him with a smile. “Let us help the wounded now, Gimli; we will talk on other things tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Gimli said, rolling the taste of the word around in his mouth; rolling the feel of it around in his mind. “Yes,” he said. “Tomorrow. To think that there will be such a thing!” He laughed from bewildered joy and squeezed his elf’s hand once, tightly, before letting go and turning back to the grim battlefield. “Tomorrow. We will talk on all things then.”

Legolas bent and pressed a light kiss to Gimli’s cheek. “Tomorrow,” he said again, the word heavy with promise, and then they walked off together into the carnage of hopes renewed and deaths well-fought.

“Tomorrow,” Gimli murmured once more to himself, and there on the bloodstained soil of the Black Land, he smiled.

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detectivemarvelingcomics · 2 years

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Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 9]

Alternate Dimension AU

TW: Language, Mentions of Death, Descriptions of Violence, Slight Body Horror, Monsters be destroying shit

CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here]

Genre: Angst, Light Comedy

Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader

(9/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

Word Count: 4.1K

Notes: SURPRISE another update before the year ends (lmao)

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

29 July 2022 - Earth 1123

Your office was a welcome space for you. Behind you was a large window that overlooked the training grounds, and to either side of you were large bookcases filled with records of monetary transactions, notes on individual knight’s trainings, previous decrees affecting the Templar and the Brigade, and other official documents. Off to the side, placed rather messily despite it’s importance, are your two weapons of choice that usually accompany you to your battles. The first was a break-action rifle, a gift to you from the previous Captain of the Templar, your mentor, engraved on its barrel was a magic circle that allowed for it’s magical properties that have saved your life more than a number of times. The second was a rapier gifted to you from the Royal Family upon your ascension to Captain, the magical circle engraved onto the base of the blade serving as a protective charm. And both of which were in desperate need of dusting.

You slouched on your chair, staring at the repercussions of your mission. The stack of papers on your desk was more daunting than any monster you’d ever faced, and you’ve faced multiple of them by now. You took the first one from the top, your eyes skimming over the paper and pulling out the important details as you’ve done many times before. Usually, you’d have Aldryn go through it for you, but the knight had been sent off in an impromptu mission by the Crown, leaving you without your usual secretary.

“Maintenance, maintenance, more maintenance…” you muttered to yourself, going through each page quickly yet carefully. The knock at your door prompted you to place your current paper down. “Enter.”

“Captain, I had no idea you’d returned already,” the crown prince entered your office, taking a seat in front of you. Calvin had been in your office many times before. Originally, you thought that he did it in a way to monitor you, but recently you’d realized it was more out of his own personal curiosity. Needless to say, his presence in your office had become a constant, something you didn’t particularly mind unless you were busy, such as right now.

“Yes, about,” you looked at the clock on your desk, “twelve hours ago.” You signed one of the documents and placed it aside. “Can I help you, your royal highness?” You asked with a sardonic smile. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint.

“Just… just checking up on you, Captain,” he stumbles over his words and you could only redirect your attention back to the various papers in front of you.

“Well, I’m doing alright. Alex is handling the filing for the mission right now, and I’m waiting for,” you were cut off when the door to your office, once again, slammed open. “Henry, give me a brief on what happened in my absence.”

“Your royal highness,” Henry bowed his head in respect, placing a hand over his heart, before turning to salute you. Carefully, he side eyes the Prince. You motioned for him to continue, if all went according to how you expected it to go, you knew exactly what Henry was about to say next. “Captain Wayne, while you were gone, there was another monster outbreak in the Lower East Writles.” You figured there would be. Right around the time you left there were a few minor outbreaks around that vicinity, it was only a matter of time before another one appeared. But you couldn’t ignore the tense feeling around the room, another thing you knew would be coming. You haven’t yet alerted the Royal Family about how frequent the monster outbreaks have been. “We had dispatched members of the Guard under Jones to deal with the case.”

“And?”

“They were successfully able to bring one back.” This caught your ear.

“Show it to me,” you stood up and Henry quickly stepped ahead of you to get the door. “Your highness, I advise you come with me, I’ll brief you with the details and you can relay to the King.”

“Certainly, Captain,” Calvin scrambled after you. By now, the Knight’s Keep was bustling. Various knights of varying ranks were walking around, chatting, training, or having their breaks. As you followed Henry, various knights gave brief salutes or nods toward you, and you quickly dismissed them with a wave of your hand. At the wave of a keycard, the elevator doors slid open and, as soon as you were situated inside, the elevator began it’s rapid descent.

“What floor?” You asked.

“B50, ma’am,” Henry answers. “We had to clear the area out, the beast is unpredictable,” Henry mutters.

“As I’d expect,” you glanced at the Prince’s morphed reflection against the elevator doors. “Over the past year, there has been an alarming number of monster outbreaks throughout the continent, I’ve been working with the separate divisions to keep track of them all,” you begun your explanation. “It started out as smaller beasts exhibiting strange behaviors, some minor mutations, and maybe slight changes to their usual routines. It was something the rangers brushed off for a while, until the larger beasts started exhibiting the same signs,” you shook your head. “Then…”

“Captain,” Henry cut you off.

“No information should be withheld from the Royal Family,” you shook your head again. “Caveacre was attacked, well, decimated would be the right word to use. The entire city was reduced to ruin, even the Northern branch of the Guard was essentially wiped out by a mutated strand of frost bears, it was unlike anything I’d ever heard of, bears with icicle claws that were sharper than steel,” you sighed. “The only one to make it out was Lieutenant Cross, and even then, he’s been in the psych ward since, information probing from him is a slow and delicate process, even as much as the mention of the species’ name sends him into a mental spiral,” you stared at the number counting down.

“What other kind of mutations are you referring to, Captain?” Calvin asks.

“… The ones that don’t happen naturally, your highness.” The elevator doors slide open to reveal a large room with a cage in the middle. Made of reinforced steel and surrounded by various protective magic circles, there was a lone beast in the middle, looming over the figure in front of him. Calvin’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the beast. Mutated, menacing, and mutilated. Parts of the beast’s skin had been clawed off and fractured bones were clear in the large wounds. Swords and arrows alike stuck out of the beasts back while dried blood crusted around the beast’s mouth. It was horrific.

“Captain,” Nixon saluted stiffly.

“How’d you get it in here?” You asked.

“Eve warped it while Chandler and I restrained it,” Nixon huffs. He catches Calvin’s expression. “Sorry, Highness, not used to the normal Wilderbeasts, huh?” He scoffs. Wilderbeasts, a notoriously docile creature to the point of domestication. The monster in front of you was nearly thrice the size of a normal one and, from the looks of it, thrice the strength. The insides of the steel bars had been clawed and gnawed at, no doubt, the only thing keeping the beast in were the protective sigils around it. Just one misstep, one line undone or smudged, would spell demise for everyone in this room and, hell, probably even the whole facility.

“This beast under here is top secret, am I clear?” You looked at the three members of the Guard around you before looking to the Prince. “We wouldn’t want a panic, would we?” You made your intent clear. You looked back at the monster before you. You didn’t realize it until you were up against the sigils, but it loomed over you, towered even. “Was this the only one?”

“Yeah, and it took out half the squad too,” Nixon frowns. You took a step closer to the cage and the beast started to snarl.

“Half, and their names?”

"I'll write you a full report later, Cap," Nixon leans on one leg and stares at the beast.

“Well,” you circled the cage. “Keep it in here, for now, then. I’ll hand select the researchers for it,” you leaned closer to the cage yet and, curiously enough, the beast stopped snarling, instead, it held intense eye contact with you. Its deep abysmal eyes stared at you, in you, and through you simultaneously. It let out a short huff before it’s sliced tongue lolled out of its mouth. True, there were some hints of the beast it was before, a Wilderbeast, or more of a giant wolf, if anything. Half, it took out half a squad alone. A beast of that power. “It’s disgusting,” you straightened and took a few steps back. The elevator doors opened once again.

“Captain Wayne!” Aldryn was out of breath, sweat plastered his brown hair to his head and his green eyes seemed to shake with fear. “Ca… Captain and your highness,” he stands in a messy salute, clutching on to your rifle and sword in one hand while the other holds attention.

“At ease,” you watch him fumble the weapons in his hand, “what are your findings, Aldryn?”

“S-Starspire, ma’am, there was a sighting in Starspire,” he responds.

“Alright, I’ll call the rest of the Brigade,” you glanced at Nixon, who was already sending a message to the other members, “Aldryn, finish my paperwork for me, would you? You look like you need a break.” You held your hands out and Aldryn handed the two weapons to you. “Your highness, if there aren’t any pressing matters, I have to deal with the sudden monster outbreak in the countryside, it seems in my absence, their numbers only multiplied,” you frowned. “Ah, one more thing, Aldryn, if you could fill in Miss Marion and Sir Inigo for me, I would be very happy,” you grinned, but Aldryn’s expression couldn’t match yours.

“Well, highness,” Nixon nudges you harshly and you both bow your heads in respect. “Let’s go kill some monsters,” Nixon follows you to the elevators.

“Aldryn, show his royal highness out,” you instructed.

“Wait, allow me to come,” Calvin steps towards you.

“Absolutely not,” you turned your head just enough to make your point clear. “My first job before anything is to ensure your safety, your highness, if you were to follow the Brigade into this mission, you would only be getting in our way,” you took no time to sugar coat your words.

“Your highness, if you’d follow me to this elevator,” Aldryn, always the cautious one, diffuses the situation as best as he could.

“Aldryn, I suspect we will be gone for the next two weeks, Henry, you’re the stand in as usual,” you shut the elevator doors before the others could answer. For a few brief moments, you and Nixon stood in silence, until the latter snickered, a small smile rose on your face and Nixon broke out into full laughter.

“Holy shit, Cap, when you said you suspected that his highness liked you, I thought you were just pulling my leg!” Nixon said between laughs. “Tell him one more order and he’d have fallen on his knees,” Nixon wipes the tear from his eyes.

“Well, sons who don’t have a good connection to their mothers tend to cling to the first woman who shows them interest,” you shook your head. “I know from experience,” you said aside.

“Ya know, (Y/N), you could just say he has mommy issues, right?”

“I have a suspecting feeling that he won’t be the only royal we deal with today, I’m trying to stay in the Captain Wayne mindset, Nix.”

“Man though, personal trauma with mommy issues?”

“I had four brothers… well, only three had mommy issues,” you scoffed. “My oldest brother tended to have a thing for older women, no shame, I understand him a little better now,” you chuckled.

“Damn, Cap,” Nixon grins. “Well, back into the fray, yeah?” The elevator door slides open. "Eve is on her way.”

“What’s the E.T.A. of a woman who warps everywhere she needs to go?” You ask. Nixon looks at his watch.

“Apparently half an hour,” he shrugs. Then, as if Eve had been listening this whole time, a portal opened next to Nixon, and before you could raise your hand in greeting, Nixon had made himself comfortable in your arms, much contrasting the shriek he would’ve let out had your hand not flown to cover his mouth.

“Hello, Eve,” you smiled.

“My Captain, how are you?” Her voice was akin to one heard from the heavens, certainly. As Eve stepped into the Keep form her portal, her dress fluttered around her and a low whistle escaped Nixon’s-still-covered mouth.

Ah, right. You dropped him without another thought, paying no mind to the groan he let out.

“Eve, you must’ve gotten the message.”

“Right! You know, Starspire is usually so wonderful around this time of year,” Eve presses a delicate hand to her cheek. “It’s a shame it’s been overrun by monsters, I suppose that means we’ll be taking care of it, right, my Captain?” She turns to you.

“Right, we’ll gather the remaining members and make for Starspire immediately.”

29 July 2022 - Earth 617

They should’ve known it was too good to be true. When did this family get anything good? Tim regained consciousness only a few minutes after you had knocked him out, but he wasn’t shaken from his stupor until Dick shook his shoulder.

“Tim? Tim! Hey, man, what happened?” Dick, still slightly groggy, spoke hurriedly despite it. Tim could only stare at the table in front of him. It was dented. You slammed his head so hard that you damaged the table. You. You could barely hurt a fly. It was now when the sound of the alarm blaring suddenly became apparent to him. “Where’s (Y/N)? We have to get her to the cave,” Dick continues to shake him. Tim only shakes his head and looks at the spot you were seated at, your cup still there, half finished and still steaming.

“She’s gone,” Tim mutters.

“What did you say?” Dick follows his gaze.

“She’s gone. (Y/N) knows this manor as well as we do, if she tripped the alarm system, it was on purpose,” he says. Then, heavy footsteps.

“Tim, what’s going on?” Bruce asks, suit already on, followed by Damian. Tim raises a hand to his head. Bruised, but not bleeding.

“The alarm, who set it off?” Dick asks.

“There was no one outside,” Damian shakes his head. “And, as far as we can tell, all the valuables have been left alone—”

“Not all of them,” Cass speaks up now, entering the kitchen. She places her mask on the table. “She left with two men. Some device teleported them away from the manor,” she says, leaning against the counter.

“Well, hello to you too,” Dick stands up straight now.

“Two men… Jason mentioned that two men helped (Y/N) escape in the first place, could it be those two then?” Dick wonders aloud.

“Well, we have to find her!” Damian speaks up.

“I don’t think we should,” Tim shakes his head, stopping as soon as he felt the nausea kick in. “The reason why I was knocked out was because of her,” he says. “I don’t think (Y/N) has ever…” his words got caught in his throat.

“(Y/N) knocked you out? You’re pulling on my leg now,” Jason scoffs, entering the kitchen next and tossing all his gear on the counter. “Hey, Cass,” he nods in her direction and she raises an eyebrow in response. “I went around the perimeter. No one.”

“You just missed Cass’ brief,” Dick says. “Bottom line, (Y/N) left.”

“And she tripped the alarms? That’s not like her, she knows her way around the system better than we do,” Jason responds. “Kid snuck out more than I did.”

“She did?” A small chorus.

“Not the issue right now,” Bruce cuts in. “Cass. What did she take?” The atmosphere grows chilly. Cass took a deep breath.

“Files. A lot them. Stolen from the computer on a device that bypassed all of its security protocols.” Bruce’s jaw clenched. What could you possibly need with those? True, it’s been years. True, you’d claimed to have only been brought back to life yesterday. And, true, he didn’t sense anything different with you. And, although he and Selina taught you many things, lying wasn’t one of them. If the look on Cassandra’s face was right, then that means she came to the same conclusion as he did.

You were being used.

“We can’t rush hastily into this, we don’t know if (Y/N) is doing this herself or if someone is using her as a means to an end. She could be disposable,” Bruce says.

“Or it could not be her, not the first time we’ve dealt with magic,” Jason shrugs.

“No, (Y/N) is definitely herself,” Cassandra mumbles, chewing on the tip of her gloved thumb in thought. “Everything I could read off of her matched (Y/N), just with slight differences,” Cass mutters.

“So you had eyes on her for a while now?” Jason asks, a slight tone of annoyance. “And you didn’t tell any of us?” He glowers.

“Relax, Jason, I only had eyes on her as soon as you alerted us, no sooner than that.”

“Then… you knew she was lying to us this whole time?” Tim asks. Cass presses her lips in a straight line.

“… yes, I did. But, it wasn’t all a lie,” she says. “There were some feelings of fear, uncomforted, and maybe some relief when she was talking to all of you,” Cass shakes her head. “But, when she ran out a few moments ago, it was strange. There were so many things at once that I can’t tell you what she was thinking with confidence. All I know is that she’s gone, and I haven’t the faintest clue where,” Cass folds her arms.

“We’ll start our search in the morning then.”

“You’re all cruel,” Damian points his gaze to the ground. “You want to wait? It’s like you all forgot what happened the last time we waited?” His voice seemed to waver in a way uncharacteristic to the usual boy. “Fine, then, you all wait. I’ll look for my sister,” he shakes his head and turns to leave.

“It’s a fool’s errand, Damian,” Cass tries to stop him.

“She wouldn’t be gone if you tried to stop her,” Damian doesn’t turn to look back and marches out of the manor.

“Damian! Come back! At least clear your mind before doing anything stu— And, he’s gone,” Dick makes a move to run after him, but Cass only shakes her head. They should all know that once Damian put his mind to something then there was no going back for him.

“Run the cameras, we’ll work with what we’ve got,” Bruce places the cowl on the counter. “After we gather enough information and after Damian returns, we’ll go pick up your sister,” he says. Tim’s gaze lingers on the spot you were seated at a bit longer. Murmurs of confirmation filled the room before everyone filtered out, leaving Tim behind. Tim sat back down on his seat, still looking at the spot you were once at. Then, as he leaned closer, a clue. Almost placed too well to have been an accident. He reached over and took the pocket watch from where you were seated before. He lets the silver chain fall through his fingers and hang loosely while he turned the watch in his hand. There was an unknown coat of arms on it. A dragon, a serpent, and a lion stood in a triad formation, crossed by swords and atop a shield, it looked like an artifact straight out of the medieval ages.

“Now… what are you?” He mumbles before shoving it into his pocket just as Dick called out to him.

Damien ran around the streets of Gotham, the night was still young and the moon was still high in the sky. He still had so much to tell you. He wanted to tell you about school, about Jon, about his mom, and about all those missions he’s been on. He wanted to tell you about the different places he’s been to, he wanted to give you all the postcards he’d brought from them that were addressed to you, and he’d wanted to show you all the souvenirs he thought you’d love. But among those, he had many questions. Why did you go alone that night? Why didn’t you call sooner? Why did you have a falling out with their father?

“Hey, you.” Damien didn’t stop. “Aren’t you looking for your sister? I know where (Y/N) Wayne is.” That got his attention. He turned around and an unfamiliar figure stood behind him amidst the crowd. No one noticing him, yet still making way for him. He was dressed neatly, yet he also seemed out of his time. A pocket watch hung loosely from the pocket of his lab coat and in his gloved hand, with his round golden glasses reflected the moonlight. His graying head was the only physical defining characteristic of his.

“What’s it to you?”

“I may have some information you would want to know, all free of charge,” the man plastered a sinister smile. Damien thought for a moment, before nodding slightly. “Wonderful, now, focus your eyes on this pendulum,” the man says, the watch falling loosely from his hands and the pendant swaying back and forth, somehow, the watch seemed to slow with each swing. Then, the engraving on the watch became apparent. A coat of arms with a dragon, a serpent, and a lion. But, those small details were all Damian was able to make out before the world blurred around him.

29 July 2022 - Earth 1123

You wiped the blood from your sword, examining the beast that lay at your feet. It was eight feet in height, had to at least be two hundred pounds on muscle alone, maybe an extra fifty with its thick brown fur. Its glowing amber eyes dimmed to black as it took its last heaved breath, and its razor sharp teeth, stained red with blood, made one last attempt to attack. You looked down in pity, but nevertheless used your heavy boot to grind its skull into the ground, coating the black material with an obvious deep red.

“That’s the fifth one in this area,” you murmur. Alex walks up to you.

“Seventh, Nixon and Eve just disposed of two others over there,” Alex nods his head in their general direction. You were lucky that the monsters’ mutations were rather mild and, another blessing, the beast that mutated was one that was easily handleable.

“There’s something going on, Alex, and I think I have a feeling, but I don’t have proof.”

“I agree, these attacks seem less random, and more planned. As if they were experiments of a sort. They’re increasing in numbers too, we can’t ignore that.”

“I should’ve known you would’ve caught on too. Every attack has been in a certain radius, and all in small remote villages, specifically ones that are far from ranger stations. And the way they’re spread out makes it difficult to locate a base of operations. But regardless, whatever this is,” you nudged the beast on the ground, “it’s not a natural occurrence.”

“Captain! Lieutenant!” A soldier runs up. “You’re going to want to see this,” he huffs. You and Alex exchange a glance before running up to the village.

“What the hell…” You watches as ten or so beasts rampage through, leaving behind chaos at every step. Many houses were or were already burnt to the ground. Beast, no, the beings that grabbed villagers and bit into them were no mere beasts. These things in front of you, certainly, must be daemons. The difference is stark. Beasts were a common umbrella term for a species, daemons, on the other hand, were ones that specifically targeted humans out of necessity or even out of enjoyment. Humans could also become daemons easily, a fact that you had the displeasure of learning in the worst of ways. You, who’d seen countless battles and who’d shed enough blood yourself, found it hard to move, hard to breathe, and how to speak. Without removing your gaze from the mayhem, you could only state an order plainly, “get the rest of special operations in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is a Level Seven attack, no threat to the royal family, and with multiple casualties. Tell the others to pull back once back up gets here. Alex, take the B7 squad and focus on rescue. I’ll hold them back for as long as possible. Clear?” You gripped your sword in your hand.

“Crystal, Captain. Good luck.”

“You too.” With the flick of your scarlet cape, the Captain charged into the flames.

#dc #batman #batfamily #batfam #batsis #batsis fics #batfamily x batsis!reader #batfam x reader #batfamily scenarios #batfamily x reader #batsis!reader #batfam fics #batfamily fics #batfamily x batsis #batfam x batsis!reader #batfam x batsis #my writings #nycv

222 notes · View notes

shitouttabuck · 7 months

Text

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 thank u bud i’m procrastinating packing and this was fun

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

seven!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

129,484 which is a fake number to me

3. what fandoms do you write for?

nothing has made me as insane in my life as network television procedural drama 911 on abc, so

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you can start a family who will always show you love

let the world have its way with you

my hearts over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance

like a dog with a bird at your door

i like the summer rain (i like the sounds you make)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i try very hard to because they make me so happy and it’s unbelievably kind of people to take the time to leave them!!! However i sometimes leave it too long and then worry it’s weird to reply after like. a month. which as a fic reader i wouldn’t give a shit about so idk what my problem is!!!! i will reply i will just maybe take a hot sec to do it

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i don’t have any i’m a happily ever after or bust kinda guy in my own head if nowhere else…… angstiest is probably the sound of love astounds me if only because it ends post-feelings realisation but still pre-relationship

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

they’re all so happy omg. i will say with great personal bias it’s my heart’s over-pumping but also i have. a sequel in the works….

8. do you get hate on fics?

no people have been very very very lovely but also sjjsjsjs i’ve not been here super long. the funniest comment i’ve gotten was on my first fic where someone was like i liked this but it is jarringly inaccurate as mcdonald’s in california doesn’t have a veggie burger option 😭 i cried laughing im so sorry to u americans. pls petition your local mcdonald’s to stock the mcplant it slaps

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

have written two e-rated fics….. it’s very fun but i don’t think i’m very good so i’d like to practice actually (maybe some sexy prompts after i finish the bed-sharing ones?) just the regular kind for now like i love buck and eddie desperately and am myself into a million things but i don’t know how kinky they would actually get in my own head. so just a little gross with it for now i guess

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no that would be SICK. @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove is podficcing bucket list fic which is so very cool of her!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

no omg i don’t know how y’all do it i’m bad at group projects but also this sounds soooooo fun. if also deeply stressful

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

if that’s synonymous with most likely to get you institutionalised, uh. gestures around us. otherwise mulder/scully and i am just now right as i’m typing this realising i’ve never ever in my life actually read x files fic what the fuck. also steve/bucky but i haven’t read fic since 2017 probably

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

listen i have not written a word for x files au past that one snip i shared forever ago. i want to soooo bad i’ve talked about it to some of you very rabidly but. it does not want to be written and if it did it would have to be so fucking long which is very daunting to me. not saying i’ve put her in the ground yet but. we might need some necromancing

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think i’m pretty good at writing in character? mostly? sometimes i struggle with buck just because i think we’re very similar and i project a little and then have to go back and fix it lmao but for the most part i think i’m good at that! and i have a lot of fun writing dialogue

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

plot!!!!!! and pacing!!!!!!!!!!! also my inability to write non-linearly omg if i get stuck i just get Stuck i can’t jump ahead

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

oooh i love it and would love to include more than the teeniest bits i have but i’m so conscious about it sounding natural and not stiff to people whose language it actually is (shout out and a million kisses to @eddiebabygirldiaz for fixing the spanish in i love you like a dog!!!!!)

19. first fandom you wrote for?

911 babey!

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance !!! not just because it was the first fic i posted after joining tumblr fandom but. idk it is so so so special to me like it makes me so happy and when i think about it i’m like. hey u wrote that. good for u my dude. and also maybe i just associate it with meeting a bunch of you whjsjssjsj

tagging @callaplums @eddiebabygirldiaz @housewifebuck @rewritetheending @try-set-me-on-fire @onward--upward @anxieteandbiscuits @devirnis @athenagranted if anyone wants to do this i’m nosy soz if you already have !!!!

#tag game #if you see me posting later today. send me hate mail i need to pack

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intern-seraph · 4 months

Note

Hey, sorry if this is a weird question but. I was wondering if you knew of any blogs specifically for responding to/arguing against leftist antisemitism? I want to be a good ally to Jewish people, but also I Am Not Immune To Propaganda and sometimes I just don't quite notice the implications, you know?

There's been a few posts going around recently, where there's screenshots with the water filter, and someone responding to them like "yeah this is actually pretty fucked up for x and y reasons". Those have been really helpful because, while some of them are much more obviously antisemitic, some of them I'm not sure I would've noticed, and now I'm a bit better educated. That's the kind of thing I'm looking for.

Again, sorry if this is a weird question, and I hope you have a good day!

none that i'd recommend tbh? i feel like laser focusing on something can get to the point of seeing it everywhere, and there's also a risk of becoming reactionary abt it if that makes sense. the blogs i do rec are mainly other jews' blogs, especially the ones you've prob seen me rb from.

my main rec for recognizing leftist antisemitism is familiarizing yourself with antisemitic tropes. some of the most common ones you'll see:

Blood libel: Originated in medieval Christian Europe, spread throughout Afroeurasia and persists today. The accusation that Jews kidnap gentile (Orig. Christian) children to do nefarious things (Orig. and still relatively commonly "blood rituals" or "taking their blood to use in making Matzah") with. You'll see this often alongside "Jews rule the world" antisemitism.

Jews rule the world/Zionist-occupied government/Evil Cabals: What it says on the tin. If you see some shit about how "Oh isn't it SUSPICIOUS how many billionaires/millionaires/rich people are Jewish?" or "The ZIONIST-CONTROLLED MEDIA is suppressing this!", that's a variant on this canard.

Khazar theory: Antisemitic pseudoscientific theory that Ashkenazi Jews aren't ackshually descended from the Judeans who were forcibly exiled from our homeland, but instead descended from Turkic Khazars who converted to Judaism. Easily disproven by actual genetic studies that show that uh yeah all ethnically Jewish folks, Ashkies included, are descended from common ancestors that originated in the Levant. Also Yiddish is derived from, y'know, not Turkic languages. There are definitely Khazar Jews, but they make up a small number of an already small population. Variants you'll probably see of this are basically anything saying that Ashkies are somehow less Jewish than other Jews, that we're all White People (Jewish connection to Whiteness is Complicated) who have no connection to the Levant, How Could Ashkenazim Be From There When Some Of Them Are BLONDE?, etc. Shit like that.

stalin shit: a lot of modern leftist antisemitism has its roots in soviet antisemitism, which used "zionist" as another word for "jew" in order to pretend to not be antisemitic. people still do that today. if you see a post where "zionist" can be replaced with "jew" and it reads word-for-word like a classic antisemitic trope, well, you know. don't trust anyone who stans stalin (or modern russia to be honest. tankies (derogatory)).

this is non-exhaustive ofc. here are also blogs i recommend blocking asap (with / in their names to inhibit name-searching); they're all in the same far-left antisemitic atrocity apologist circle (i.e. assad stans, putin stans, holodomor deniers, uyghur oppression deniers, CCP stans, houthi stans, etc):

her/ita/gep/osts (north korea stan, which is fucking insane. beloved tumblr funnyman who implicitly blames jews for the actions of the israeli govt in multiple gross posts and has targeted multiple jewish bloggers, prompting mass harassment)

ko/ms/om/ol/ka (nasty character all around. claimed she was banned for being pro-palestine, it's actually prob because she's been reported before for being a fucking racist antisemitic freak lmao)

tx/tt/le/ta/le (ew)

bre/nda/nic/us (happily antisemitic. homophobic too, as a treat i guess)

blo/g/lik/ea/ne/gyp/tian (egyptian nationalist. don't ask her what happened to cairo's jews. makes nasty posts that outright state that jews should feel guilty for current events ON JEWISH HOLIDAYS.)

whe/nma/gic/fil/led/the/air (infamously antisemitic. block.)

a-si/ent-/ecli/pse ("Happy Holocaust Memorial Day")

ara/bia/n-k/nig/ht (extremely and openly antisemitic kid. just, like, don't engage)

nat/ive/ne/ws (tweet screenshots aren't news. loooooves spreading disinfo and misinfo)

ap/as-/95 (part of the tankie committee)

les/bia/nch/emi/cal/pla/nt (i think she's a jew but she's, like, the tankie tumblr pet jew istg. she's also an asshole. girl they will gladly turn you over once you outlive your usefulness 😬)

other advice: anyone who claims to be "anti-zionist NOT antisemitic" who only ever fixates on jews and jewish orgs instead of the christian zionists who vastly outnumber the entire jewish population is lying, they're antisemitic (whether they realize it or not). houthi stans generally are stupid jew-haters who would rather support the ethnic cleansing, racism, misogyny, antisemitism, and chattel slavery party than possibly say that Someone Who Rejects The Enemy(tm) is, yknow, not morally pure. people who are abnormal about ashkenazim are generally abnormal about non-ashkies, too, but in a different and still nasty way. if someone claims that "everything was fine before the Zionists(tm) attacked", they are wrong. do some research on the history of jewish life in the region and it's very clearly wrong. if someone says that they're tired of jews and jewish feelings and jewish safety being a focus, they probably don't feel particularly kind things about us in general. fact-check claims. screenshots aren't news. people who are okay with widespread civilian death/suffering in one direction probably only desire vengeance more than anything else, which does nothing for anyone and is a net loss. anyone baying for blood is suspect, anyone without a concrete solution/plan beyond "burn it down" is not going to do much constructive work in terms of delivering justice.

#ask #i-looktothe-stars #o7 godspeed #unfortunately a lot of this comes down to training your eye #it's a rough and wild world out there #steeped in a fine blend of centuries of antisemitism #antisemitism #seraph speaks #sorry for how scattered this is #and my allergy to the shift key

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cloveroctobers · 1 year

Text

TOMMY MILLER — spring prompts 🦋

A/N: originally this was supposed to be for Joel — and I jumped on the Pedro train a little late my apologies but I can’t lie and say I’m not a bigger whore/softie for Tommy / Gabriel (this goes for the game version too!) so :) here goes nothing and if we flop, this never existed lmao! Only trying my best to write fluff for the upcoming spring season so let’s cheers to that! Happy first day of spring people!

WARNINGS: age adjustments for this piece + age-gap. Mostly following the live action ages according to their wiki except for Ellie! I aged her up some as this takes place before the events of part ii 😥 Joel is still 56, Tommy is 50, Ellie is 17, and “she” is 35…and would be a year older than Sarah. I know some might find that weird and usually I don’t write storylines around a age-gap but here we are! Tommy and “she” met during the time of the virus. So don’t drag me too much if you’re on the offense, thanks.

GIF SEARCH DONE BY GOOGLE & RIGHTFULLY BELONGS TO: @loregifs

Using prompts from this list and numbers: 2.) listening to the birds when they wake up + 6.) new beginnings + 12.) rolling down the window of the car. + 28.) adopting puppy/kitten.

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He’s still asleep while she’s on the balcony, hunched over the banister watching the town gradually come to life to start their daily routines. Being part of the main committee had its benefits, meaning one would start the day whenever they wished, which allowed her more time to just enjoy the little moments.

The air is touching spring, allowing livelihood to begin sprouting again. She breathes in the brisk air, pacing herself as the air still clings to the biting of its bitter sister while whipping by, reminding her that her asthma would not be leaving for the season just yet. The tree to the right of the house has lost one of its branches, which now lays on the roof of the house, due to the last winter storm which pushed its way through Wyoming with a foot of snow two weeks ago.

She’s not going to ask Tommy again to remove it, she’ll take it upon herself to get it down with some others later. She’s aware that he’s got a lot on his plate with Joel and Ellie back in town…along with this weighing secret Joel’s keeping from Ellie.

A sigh escapes her lips, eyes closing as she feels the brightness of the sun starting to rise behind the foggy skies. She knows if she keeps them closed a little longer, she’ll receive a morning song with the sunrise. The sun is a nice contrast against the cool but dry air in Jackson but it always brings a sense of peace.

The chirping is just enough for a small smile to split onto the corners of her lips and she listens, enjoying the sweet song the birds sing. She was never much of a bird person due to her grandmother having all sorts back in her hometown in Connecticut. She was raised mostly by her grandmother in a town that lacked diversity, since her parents prioritized work rather than spend time with her and her little brother. Sure she understood this now in her adulthood that her parents faced many challenges in their work field but as a child, of course you just wanted your parents around.

To care.

And whenever they were around, she gave them hell about it until her younger brother quickly became upset. He was on the spectrum and sensitive but just wanted everyone to get along. He loved talking about clouds and had dreams of venturing off to Iceland one day. She was thankful he got to experience it before the world officially went to shit.

Now here she stood listening to birds sing, despite being pecked, chased, and shit on by birds for what felt like her whole life and the sun was shining beneath the gray. Perhaps that was symbolism for new journeys along the way—if she bothered to look deeper at this but now was not the time for overthinking.

She did that enough on a daily basis.

“Hey, you didn’t wake me for the sunrise?” A Texas drawl called out from behind.

She turns slightly, facing the screen door to see Tommy with his head poking out beneath the door, dark hair frizzy, and slits in his eyes. He’s not much of a morning person out of the two of them and will usually need five to twenty minutes more before getting up.

He needed the sleep.

She steps to him then, wrapped in her blanket and getting a better view of the freckles that always appear sprinkled on his face whenever the light hits his skin.

“It’s okay,” she softly says, “there’s always tomorrow.”

He hums as his brown eyes peeks over her head and sniffs at the air, “c’mon in, baby. Who knows how long you’ve been out here and I don’t want anything to start acting up on you and I’m not nearby.”

“I’m fine,” she argues, making a show as she deeply inhales and puffs out a breath as she exhales, fighting back a cough, “airs not too bad.”

Tommy gives her a look, alerting her that he doesn’t believe any of the words she’s saying to him. He knows she can get lost in nature for hours, making him think it reminds her of her old home.

He suggests, “Let’s go for a morning drive for a bit before we really start the day, huh?”

“I’d like that.” She smiles at the man who mirrors it back, “we haven’t done that in awhile.”

The pair lived in the most active part of Jackson, right in the heart of the western town where most of the houses were almost on top of each other. There wasn’t much that got pass this part of Jackson and it only made sense since she and Tommy helped keep this town running. Surely she preferred the more secluded parts, which is what she was grew up with but to be married to someone so extroverted changed that.

“Yeah, we sure haven’t. Let me get dressed.” Tommy says with a nudge of his head, inviting her back into their home.

She nods at him, glancing over her shoulder in the doorway as he exits, sending another smile to the birds before closing the door.

Tommy’s driving in the pale yellow Camaro he picked up from his last scouting trip, it’s his new toy that she teases him about since he’s kicked her Chevy SUV to the curb. She’s laying with her arm resting against the door, cheek pressed into her balled up arm, with her black faux fur blanket still wrapped around her and Tommy’s got one hand resting on her thigh.

He’s shuffling between keeping his hands on the steering wheel, steering with his knees and twisting his arm all kinds of ways to get a cassette into the radio slot. The dirt road is empty and full of green hills along with loops that remind her of the path that leads to Ellie and Dina’s home. This part of Jackson feels familiar and like what she’s used to but she knows she doesn’t have to feel alone.

A soft beat begins to play through the car just as she’s rolling down the window. Tommy lightly shakes his head at his wife, who welcomes some of the air through the crack and receives that there seems to be something on her mind. Lately it seems like he’s been so busy with not only the community but rebuilding his relationship with Joel and his additional niece Ellie—although they’ve been back for about two years now, it did not go unnoticed that there’s been something on his wife’s mind.

Surely he was going to get to the bottom of it on this drive.

“What do you know about this?” Tommy quizzed, taking his hand off her thigh briefly to twist the volume knob, before placing his warmth back on her sweats.

She snorts as she listens to the lyrics of the 80s jam, a little shocked it wasn’t Pixies or some rock song this time. However she believed Tommy always picked songs that fit the mood.

…In time you will see

That love won't let you down

You said that you loved me

Said hurt only came to pass me

It sounded so convincing

That I gave it half a chance

And learned the ways of love, my baby

There is so much love inside me

And all that I have

I give my all to you

All, all my love, baby.

She joked, “Did this one play at your prom, old man?”

Tommy scoffed, “i was nine when this came out in 1982 so nice try but even then, I knew good music when I daggone hear it.”

There was a fifteen year age gap between her and Tommy but that’s never been a issue given the circumstances of life now and probably wouldn’t be much of a issue if things were different. However she couldn’t be certain if the infection didn’t cross the globe if their paths would even align. She had southern roots thanks to her maternal and paternal grandparents yet she’s only ever visited Georgia to see her paternal grandparents, cousins, and friends she’s made out there.

Georgia was a long way from Texas.

“Look at you listening to love songs at just a little baby…I’m starting to not believe the whole never been in love until I met you line.” She sat up then, head resting against the headrest while playfully peeking at Tommy, ready to get him riled up.

Tommy shook his head, “I told you before, pre-Tommy was a whole ‘nother person, all about fun moments and keeping those memories strictly as that…temporary. I didn’t like to be attached although I knew I was very capable of loving someone.”

His past relationships did not matter to her. It never did because a new life was happening now, with her and their relationship most likely wouldn’t exist because they lived on different sides of the map. She trusted him to be a good partner and she equally wanted to be the same. The love or lust before was not a factor on both ends because Jackson was about redemption and growing forward.

If they couldn’t see that with each other then there was no need to continue on with this commitment. However she liked sparking this compassion from Tommy just for a sense of not only laughs but perhaps a bit of reassurance?

“I love you.” She slipped a hand around the back of his neck, lightly caressing the warm skin beneath his jacket.

Tommy glanced over at her then, pure light in his dark eyes as a smile quirked up beneath his facial hair, “I love you too…with all of this love.”

“Oh gosh, the corny is killing me. Make it stop!” She gagged at Tommy’s singing while he laughed at her, putting the car in park.

It was his turn to face her, gripping her jaw to place a kiss on her temple. Soon she unbuckled herself from the seat so she could sit in Tommy’s lap who welcomed her with open arms. Together they sat, his arms locked around her waist and her head tucked in between his neck and shoulder.

To be held by the one you love, what more could she ask for?

She could fall back to sleep in the comfort of Tommy’s arms just then. The prickle of his beard against her brow bone, the firmness of his hands secured around her frame, his steady breathing, her light grip from underneath his bicep, and his scent of white musk and eucalyptus was enough for her this morning.

Sometimes people just need to be held by the right person.

Tommy was ready for her to fall asleep. It’s not like it was uncommon for her to rest against him and as much as she claimed he needed rest, he wanted her to take care of herself just like she took care of him. The flutter of her eyelashes fought against the closing of her lids that it made Tommy grin, silently encouraging her to just let go but one thing about his baby, she was a fighter which provided a nice contrast against her dainty appearance.

Her glossy grayish-brown eyes popped back open, eyes gazing out at the scenery while Tommy quickly shifted his eyes elsewhere so he wouldn’t get called out for staring. He followed her line of sight and immediately wanted to reach for what was in the backseat.

“What’s that?” She asked, sitting up as she put more strain on one eye than the other.

It was confirmed by one of the new nurses that she was losing her sight in one eye quite quickly. It was mostly caused by a injury with a clicker that sent her through a glass window face-first but blindness was also hereditary on her mother’s side. Who truly knows what life continues to throw at you? In whatever way, it was not something she dwelled on.

Tommy nodded as he pulled his shotgun up and over the console, “uh huh, I see it.”

She was out the door before he could get the safety off and that sent his heart rate spiking.

Her feet stomped over the rising grass, ignoring Tommy’s hushed calls as she slowly approached the animal. It had height to it, straggly mixture of grey and black hair with a heavy bone structure.

“Honey, I don’t know what’re you’re thinkin’ but you can’t just run up on dogs like that! We don’t even know if it’s infected.” Tommy stated as he took stealthy steps behind the braided woman.

She slipped a hand into her pocket, holding the thermometer up in the air to silently answer the man’s question who couldn’t help but to deeply scowl.

Squatting down she kept some distance between her and the dog who put it’s head down, sniffing in her direction. Her hand slipped into another pocket, reaching for something green before she lightly tossed it in the dog’s direction. Carefully the dog stepped forward to bite into the green bean, allowing her to slowly get closer to aim the thermometer and get a temperature reading.

“He’s clear.”

Tommy still circled around, gun slightly lowered but not completely as he watched her smile at the dog.

“It’s still a ugly lookin’ thing.”

She scolded Tommy, “don’t talk about him like that! He actually might think you’re the ugly one here.”

‘That’s not possible.’ Tommy thought to himself.

Rubbing his back, she cooed at the animal, “he didn’t mean it boy, he’s just being mean because I didn’t signal that I was coming to introduce myself to you.”

Tommy couldn’t help but to shake his head in disapproval, taking a moment to survey the area to make sure the unattractive animal didn’t lead any unwanted attention. When he turned back, she was still petting him, this time the dog was licking at her hands and seemed to be enjoying his pets as he sat.

“…this isn’t your first time meeting?” Tommy guessed.

She sighed, “no. Joel’s grumpy ass scared him off last time with the horses when we patrolled. You have no idea how bad I wanted to kick his ass…at least you’re being better about this…besides the whole verbal bullying you just afflicted on him.”

“I wasn’t bullyin’,” Tommy started, “I just wanted you to be careful.”

“Yeah and you took it out on someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Tommy sighed, “I—I never took you as a dog person anyway. I would have thought cats.”

“Are you gonna get me a cat for my birthday?”

“Probably not, honey. They’re kinda creepy.”

‘Creepier than people turning into walking funguses? I think the fuck not!’ She thought.

“Then we’re taking him home!” She beamed as she rubbed behind his ears, “hear that?! We’re gonna get you home, bathe you, feed you, and you’ll fit in with the rest back at home, I’m sure of it. And if you don’t, you’ll stay with us.”

“The hell he will.”

The sharp look she sent the curly haired man was enough to get him to clear his throat and almost straighten up. It’s not like Tommy didn’t care for dogs, hell, he was thinking of getting one before Sarah came into the picture—not that he was comparing his niece to a got damn dog! Fuck, he knew she was probably sending him a mean mug from up above right now. It’s just that the loneliness he faced at his own townhome in Austin was erased when life granted him with a niece.

Sarah was his just as she was his brother’s.

Now his wife wanted to bring a dog (as if they didn’t have enough in the community) into their life and it seemed like she already had a connection with it, that Joel didn’t tell him about at all! He could also argue that his own wife didn’t tell him she was forming a bond elsewhere.

The laughter that sounded from her as she got to her feet, facing him with a smile that reached her shining eyes made his heart swell.

Happiness was all he wanted her to have. He was happy if she was happy and he felt himself breaking.

“What if it’s got fleas?”

“Hello…veterinarian school?”

Which was true, she knew what to do and since the community was well-off to take care of everyone and everything, She had what she needed if any of the animals got sick.

“Right…Dr. Dolittle here.”

“Was that a jab, Tommy?” She pointed at the man who immediately shook his head in defense.

“Not really.” He shrugged his shoulders innocently before continuing, “I’m not afraid to say I was in the theaters when that one came out for Sarah…although I love a good comedy family film.”

That’s funny, that’s when she knew she wanted to work with animals after seeing that film. Unfortunately she couldn’t hear the actual voices of the animals she worked with but she still knew how to communicate with them. She can only imagine tommy taking the time to spend with his niece and that brought a smile to her lips.

“So you’ll love him?”

“…I can try?”

She patted the dog’s back, “see it only took some convincing. We just have to find you a name and it’ll have to flow nicely with your sibling.”

A frown dug in between Tommy’s brows at the end of her sentence. It slipped so easily from her lips that Tommy was unsure if he heard her right. She was getting ready to turn and head back to the car with the dog in at her side but Tommy steps towards them.

“What was that?”

“Hm?” She took her attention away from the dog who began wagging it’s tail.

“That last part of the sentence. About the dog having the same sound as it’s..sibling? Meaning what? the other dogs?” Tommy pried.

She tapped on her chin then, pretending to think about it, “I’m thinking Silas for him and Milo, Tyrus, or Linus for this one.”

Tommy watched with wide eyes as a hand rested against her clothed belly.

“A-Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Maybe…what’re you thinking?”

“You’re pregnant, honey?”

“Uh huh. You’ve got two extra babies now.”

Tommy wanted to curl into a ball of happiness hearing this news. He never thought he would be a dad way back then and he certainly didn’t think now…especially with the way things were and she hasn’t had much of a cycle in years. Of course there were discussions of what ifs but it’s not like they were deliberately trying.

His put the safety on and slung the gun around to his back. He exhaled, his hands raised in air before gripping at his hair in astonishment.

“We’re gonna be somebody’s mommy and daddy?”

“Damn straight.”

“Hell yeah we are!” Tommy grinned as he reached forward to lift her up by the waist, gently spinning her in the air before he quickly put her back on her feet, “shit, are you having any nausea? did I just cause it?”

“No love, we’re okay. Just fatigue sometimes. I’m about thirteen weeks according to Rosita’s ultrasound.” She breathed with a smile, flicking her hair back.

“Thirteen weeks?! Holy shit! He’s gonna be here in no time…wait Linus? There’s no way we’re naming our kid Linus—that’s out.”

“Okay let’s talk about it,” she laughed, “walk with me.”

“It’s clear we have a lot to talk about!” Tommy slipped an arm around her waist, peeking down at her baggy clothing as they made their way back to the car.

He halted as she started to give him the details and glanced back at the dog who had its head down but stayed put. He whistled at the animal with a nudge of head, “c’mon, dog! You’re comin’ with us.”

“Silas.” She whispered up at Tommy.

Tommy corrected himself, “Silas! Let’s go home.”

Silas perked up and trotted after the couple, hopping into the backseat as Tommy intently focused on her, their hands clasped together as he held them to his lips, ready for their new beginning.

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Continue along with my spring anthology prompts here.

#tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tommy miller #Tommy miller x reader #Tommy miller x black! reader #joel miller #ellie williams #Ellie miller #ellie x dina #spring prompts #spring prompt #spring prompts 2023 #queued

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