#lost in space 26 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

golden-cherry · 1 month

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deal - cl16 (26/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Burning things is a good way to get rid of stuff. But perhaps you and Charles have more in common than you like.

Warnings: this is quite angsty (mentions of cheating, Annika and Raphael), fire (of course), some fluff

Word Count: 4.2k

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A/N: this is a long one. but well, I felt like it. there are some Easter eggs in this chapter, tell me which one you found! feedback is appreciated (as always, please and thank you!)

Since your newly purchased items have not made it any further into the apartment than the hallway, Charles' bedroom looks pretty empty. There are three large boxes next to the door, which gradually fill up the longer you stay in the room.

"What about this?" you ask Charles and show him a pink candlestick that was recently on the windowsill.

Your roommate pulls his head out of the closet. "Throw it away."

"Okay." You try not to trip over anything as you walk over to the door and place the item in the left box, which already contains a vase and empty picture frames. As you straighten up again, a shirt flies past your face before landing in the right box.

"Sorry," Charles mumbles, without taking his eyes off the clothes in front of him.

"It's all right." You glance at the chest of drawers against the wall. "What about this?" you ask, pointing to the few books arranged by size on the dark wood.

Charles sighs. "Just assume you can throw away everything in this room." Another item lands in the box on the right.

Unsure, you bite the inside of your cheek.

The idea was to get all the stuff Annika left in the bedroom out of the apartment and - if possible - burn it in Jori's fire bowl, in the hope that Charles can have closure. The box on the left is for things that can't easily be turned into ashes, such as picture frames, candlesticks or small, empty flower pots. The middle one is for things Annika couldn't pack in her haste, like jewelry, clothes, electronics. She would come to collect them at some point.

The box on the right is for flammable things. The pictures from photo frames, books, tickets from events the couple attended together - and the clothes Charles throws in. And it looks like they're his.

"Can I ask why you're throwing away your clothes?" you ask timidly as you sit down on the bed. You run your fingers over the soft fabric, which will also end up in the right-hand box later.

Charles pushes some empty hangers aside before taking a jacket off the hanger. "Everything in this room is from when Annika and I were a couple." He shows you the jacket. "I was wearing this the first time we went to the racetrack together. Our first public appearance as a couple." He throws the jacket towards the door before grabbing the next item - a sweater. "I wore this one on the first Valentine's Day. We went out for dinner and then to the movies."

You purse your lips. "And you want to get rid of all these memories? Even if they are nice ones?"

The sweater lands on the jacket before Charles turns to you and looks at you for the first time since you walked into this room. "That woman cheated on me. Took advantage of my trust and broke it." His gaze is rock hard. "Whoever she was to me, she doesn't deserve to have her memories here. I want to put it all behind me. I want to be free."

You see a sad glint in his eyes, which you don't address. Instead, you get up from the bed and begin to sort out everything that's still lying around into the boxes, while Charles pulls one item of clothing after another out of the closet.

Apart from a little rustling and your footsteps, the room is silent. You want to give Charles his space, give him the peace and quiet he needs to sort out his thoughts and really come to terms with the relationship. The fact that he has asked you to help him with this warms your heart. Because even though you've only known each other for a short time, he's the person you care most about. The person you would run to immediately if your life went down the drain. The person you can tell everything to without being judged.

You seem to be that person for Charles too - the person he can trust without having to worry, the person who would help him bury a body - this feeling warms you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet.

"I think that's it," Charles finally interrupts the silence and closes the now empty closet behind him while you remove the cover from one of the two pillows. His gaze wanders from your face to your hands. "You don't need to do that. We'll put the bedding in a big bag and then it can all go."

"Are you sure?" you ask uncertainly, but put the pillow back on the bed.

"Very sure. I don't want to sleep in a bed she slept in or cover myself with a blanket she slept under. I just want to put it behind me."

"Okay." You walk around the bed and put in the clothes that missed the box. "Which car do we take? My Renault is still at the old place and your Ferrari won't fit the stuff." Besides, it would be too conspicuous and you don't want us to be seen in it together.

"There's an old car of my brother's downstairs in the garage. It's bigger than the Ferrari," he calls out from the hallway, where he's rummaging around in one of the cupboards before entering the bedroom again. In his hand he holds a huge blue plastic bag from a Swedish furniture store. "If that's not enough, I've got another one."

It's not enough. The bedding actually has to be divided into three different bags until the bed is empty except for the mattress. As Charles stands at the front door, one bag on each shoulder and a box - containing the last bag - in his hands, he peeks past it. "Can you open the door for me, please? I'd like to take the things downstairs."

As packed as he is, you have to stifle a grin. The Monegasque looks like a pack mule. "You can walk several times, you know that? Then you won't be straining your shoulders."

Your flatmate blows a strand of hair out of his forehead. "No way. I'd rather fall down the stairs before I have to walk twice."

As you open the door and press the elevator button for him, you just shake your head. "Then it's a good thing there's an elevator here. You'll still have to go a second time."

While Charles takes the things to the underground garage, you put the other two boxes by the front door before you go in search of another large bag. As Charles has already used all the available bags from the hall cupboard, you have no choice but to take a bin liner from the kitchen. As you hear him grab the second box, you poke your head out of the kitchen.

"I'll bring the other box in a minute. You can wait downstairs by the car, okay?"

"All right," he replies and puts the box on his hip. "It shouldn't be that heavy. It's just the picture frames and stuff in there." He smiles at you. "See you in a bit then. But hurry up."

You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh before he disappears with the box in his hands. When you're alone, you walk from the kitchen into the living room, where the red roses that Charles must have forgotten are still on the white piano. You carefully put them in the bag, taking care not to tear the thin plastic, and then tie it up before dragging the bin bag into the hallway and putting it in the box.

The roses make the box much heavier than expected and when you arrive a few minutes later, panting, in the underground parking garage where Charles is already waiting to meet you, you are glad when he takes it off your hands.

"What's in there?" he asks, pointing to the bag after placing the box in the trunk of the silver car.

You shrug your shoulders. "I found this. We can burn it if you like," you simply reply and drop into the passenger seat while Charles closes the trunk.

The drive to Joris is shorter than expected and although it's not too late, the sky is already turning red, as if the sun is about to set. There's some song on the radio that you don't know and Charles isn't humming along to. As he finally steers the car through the familiar narrow alley and then pulls on the handbrake in a parking lot, the front door opens and Joris enters the courtyard.

"Hello, you two," he greets you as you get out of the car. While he shakes Charles' hand, he presses a kiss to your cheek, first on the left and then on the right. "You said on the phone that you wanted to burn something?" He rubs his hands together excitedly.

Your roommate nods and opens the trunk. "Not only that." He takes one of the boxes - the one with Annika's belongings - and hands it to his buddy. "I'd like to leave them here, if that's possible. I don't want to see Annika again and I'd be incredibly grateful if you could give her her things back."

"Of course," he replies and takes a look in the trunk. "What about this?" With a nod, he points to the box with the picture frames.

"This," Charles begins the sentence before grabbing the box and walking over to one of the garbage containers that must belong to Jori's house. Without giving it much thought, he dumps the contents into the garbage can before rejoining you to take the three bags of bedding and throwing them into the container as well. "'Is garbage. We'd like to burn the rest that's left there."

"The firewood and fuel are already ready."

The boys carry the things upstairs and you follow them. When you arrive at Jori's apartment, you close the door behind you while Joris puts the box with Annika's things in a room and Charles walks towards the rooftop terrace. You open the door for him and he smiles gently at you as he walks past you towards the fire bowl, which already has some wood in it.

A little later, Joris joins you, a small canister of gasoline in his hand. "You'll need this. Please don't burn yourselves. I've got a quick online meeting coming up and no time to drive you to the hospital."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate that," says Charles as he takes the burning liquid from his buddy's hand. As Joris disappears, Charles pulls an outdoor couch sitting in a corner near the fire bowl. "In case it takes longer. Then we don't have to stand the whole time."

While Charles lights the wood, you take the garbage bag with the roses out of the box and put it next to the couch. "Would you like something to drink?"

Charles looks up from the small flame snaking around one of the logs. "There should be cans of Coke in the fridge. And there should be some sweets in the cupboard in the living room." When you look at him in astonishment, he grins. "Go ahead and help yourself. Joris has already eaten my entire fridge once when he was drunk."

"Okay." You leave him alone on the roof terrace and go searching. You actually find the cans in the fridge, two of which you take and put on the living room table so you can rummage through the cupboard for something sweet. You find fruit gums, some chocolate - which you probably shouldn't bring anywhere near a fire - and a bucket of popcorn, which you tuck under your arm.

When you return to Charles with your hands full, he laughs.

"What?" you ask, confused, as he takes the bucket from you. "You told me to help myself. And that's what I did."

"That's right." He motions for you to sit down on the sofa. As he sits down next to you, he nudges his knee against yours. He opens his can of Coke and you do the same. "Here's to the future." He holds his can out to you.

You clink glasses with him. "To the future."

After a few minutes, the fire burns brightly and warms you on this beautiful winter evening and Charles pokes around in the wood with a poker, which apparently belongs to the fire bowl, before grabbing the box and placing it between you on the couch. The fact that there's this physical distance between you both bothers you more than it should.

"Two years for nothing," Charles says as he pulls out the first picture. It shows him and Annika lying on the beach and smiling at the camera. He throws it into the fire. "For nothing, for absolutely nothing."

"Don't say that." You watch as the flames engulf the photo. "You learn from relationships. No matter how long they last."

He throws a piece of paper into the bowl. It looks like a concert ticket. "And what have I learned? How to be cheated on without realizing it? I definitely didn't need to learn that." His tone is cold.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. When you take your eyes off the fire and look at him, his features are soft. He looks hurt. You purse your lips. "How did you find out?"

"I caught them." As you stare at him open-mouthed, he shrugs. " I was actually planning on flying from race to race, but my gut told me to fly back home." He has to swallow. "When I walked through the front door, there were already shoes there that weren't mine. And when I walked towards the bedroom, I heard them."

You raise an eyebrow. "They were doing it in your bed?" No wonder he doesn't want to keep the bedding or the bed.

He nods weakly and throws one of his shirts into the fire. "I knew exactly what was behind the door and yet it broke my heart when I actually saw it. It wasn't much, but enough to know that it could never have been that 'it's not what it looks like' thing."

You hand him two plane tickets, which he throws away without looking at them. "And then?"

"She wanted to talk to me, begged me to stay with her and said how sorry she was. But I didn't want to hear any of it. I just turned around and left. I couldn't look her in the eye."

"I can understand that," you answer him quietly.

"I think if I had really loved her the way you do in relationships, I would have thrown her out of the apartment straight away. But when I left and created distance between us, I racked my brains as to why she did that. And it was all over the internet that a lot of people do it because they feel neglected by their partner and are looking for closeness with someone else."

"And that's why you felt so bad that you allowed her to continue living there?" He nods. Another couple of photos land in the flames and catch fire. "Did you know the man?"

He shakes his head in response. He fixates on a burning log as if he doesn't want to look at you. When he does, his gaze is full of the kind of pain and hatred you've only ever seen on his face once before. As you remember the situation, your heart breaks. For both of you.

When you answer him, your voice is no louder than your breath. "It was Raphael."

Your stomach clenches so tightly that you feel like throwing up. That's how Charles knew where Raphael worked. Something you've forgotten until now. Something is pounding behind your eyes and it's only when a tear runs down your cheek that you realize you're crying.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Charles' voice is soft and through the veil of tears you see his hand twitch, as if he's struggling to take you in his arms and comfort you. But there's this stupid box between you. And you've never felt so lonely.

"Y/N..."

"Don't," you say quietly and without thinking about it, you reach into the box between you, grab everything you can with one hand and throw it into the fire in front of you. You watch as Annika's face burns. You throw a second handful into the fire bowl. This time it's his jacket. "That bastard."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather kill them both."

A faint smile spreads across Charles' face. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Although I've thought about it before. But I'm afraid that I won't be able to drive my super-fast car if I'm behind bars."

"What if I take over for both of us?"

"I think the prison clothes would look good on you, but the visiting hours are definitely a pain in the ass and I couldn't stand not seeing you every day," he says gently and reaches for the now empty box, which he now places on the floor next to the couch. Then he pulls you into his arms. And from now on, it's not the fire in front of you that warms you.

You stare into the fire for a while, feeling Charles' arm around your waist and his cheek on the top of your head. "Are you going to tell me what's in that garbage bag?"

"Oh." You straighten up, dumbfounded, and lean over the backrest to pick up the bin bag. As you turn back to Charles, his gaze quickly flickers back to your face. "This morning - after your mother visited - we were sitting together in the living room and you couldn't stop staring at the piano. But it wasn't the piano, was it?"

He shakes his head and as you untie the knot of the bag, he takes a peek inside. "I'd totally forgotten about that just now."

"That's what I thought. That's why I brought them." You pull out the letters of roses and place them next to you on the couch before handing him the first one. While he throws the first rose into the fire, you open the bucket of popcorn and snuggle up to his side again.

"Annika gave it to me for our second anniversary," he explains, before opening his mouth and looking at you expectantly. As you pop a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth, he grins at you. You ignore the fact that your fingers are tingling where they touched his lips: "I don't even like roses. I think they're too hackneyed and the most unimaginative thing you can give someone to show that you love them."

"So a gift without really making an effort," you continue his thought. "And what are your favorite flowers?"

When he looks at you, his gaze is warm and there's a sparkle in his eyes that you can't quite put your finger on. "Peonies."

You feel the warmth shoot into your cheeks and turn your gaze away from him. He throws more roses into the fire and you continue to pop popcorn into both of your mouths as the flowers burst into flames in front of you. You hope that this action is as cleansing for him as it is being said all over the internet. You hand him the second letter, which he can burn in peace, before standing up and taking his empty Coke can. "I guess you need a new one?"

His grin is wide. "Yes, please."

You disappear into the kitchen, where you leave the can on the counter and take a new one from the fridge. As you go back to Charles, you bump into Joris, who is just coming out of one of the rooms. "How did your online meeting go?"

"Pretty good," he replies and walks past you into the kitchen to take another can from the fridge. You stop in the doorway. "It was just about familiarizing myself with my new job, which I start in the New Year."

"That's right," you reply and raise your eyebrows. "You said you'd been offered a job. Are you already looking forward to it?"

"Very much. I can hardly wait," he replies as you walk towards the living room. You can watch Charles through the window as he continues to set the roses on fire. "Was that your idea? With the whole burning thing?"

You nod. "Yes. I burned my ex-boyfriend's things too when I found out he'd cheated on me. Only I didn't have a big fire bowl."

"Then where did you do it?"

You shrug your shoulders. "In the kitchen sink."

Joris has to laugh before he nudges yours with his shoulder. "Your friendship is good for him. He's never opened up to anyone as quickly as he did with you. I'm starting to think I need to worry that you're taking my place as his best friend."

"Haha. You two have known each other for ages. I don't think I could ever get in the way, even if I wanted to." You have to smile. "But Charles is definitely my best friend. There's nothing I wouldn't want to share with him."

"It's nice to hear that you're good for each other." He smiles at you.

"Do you want to come outside?" you ask him as you walk to the patio door.

Joris waves you off. "You go and do your cleansing thing. But please don't burn down the sofa. That's sacred to me."

You stick your tongue out at him and grab the blanket hanging over the back of a chair before returning to Charles, who has now reached the last letter. You hand him the Coke and spread the blanket over your knees. The sun has set, but the fire in front of you is so bright that you have no problem seeing his beautiful face.

"Do you think she would have cheated on me too if I had been a better boyfriend?" Charles asks quietly at one point, without looking at you.

"I don't know."

He thinks for a moment. "She said that everything in my life revolves around Formula One. That I don't notice what's going on around me. And that I was never there for her like a boyfriend should be. And that she had to share me with the whole world." As he turns to you, you see tears glistening in his eyes. "You said you were sure there was someone out there for me who wouldn't find my job too hectic. Who will support me no matter how hard it gets."

You turn to him and put your hand to his cheek to make him look at you. A tear rolls down his cheek and you wipe it away with your thumb. "I have. And I mean it."

He licks his tongue over his lips. "You also said that there's a person out there for everyone. A soulmate with whom you can share everything. With whom you don't have to pretend and can be who you really are." You feel his arms wrap around your middle and before you know it, you're sitting in his lap.

You wrap your arms around his neck so you can hold him tight.

"So you think there's someone else out there for me? That I haven't missed my chance at love?" You feel his warm breath on your face and how much you want to kiss away the tears that escape his eyes. Take away all his pain. Show him how much he means to you.

But now is not the right time. Someday. Maybe.

"I promise you that."

You watch him throw the last rose into the fire. In an instant, the red blossoms catch fire, the stem begins to glow and before you know it, this last piece from a time Charles wants to forget at all costs disappears and turns to ash.

His grip on you tightens. A sign for you to turn towards him. When you look at him, his cheeks are wet, but he doesn't look sad. The smile on his face is honest and genuine and so loving that you can't help but return it.

He would love to put his hands on your face and kiss you until you can't breathe. To feel your lips on his, your skin on his and tell you how important you are to him. How much he craves you and that everything he feels for you goes beyond the limits of friendship. But the only thing he does is grab your hand with his and squeeze it twice. Maybe you'll understand. Understand why he always squeezes twice.

The right time will come. Someday. Maybe.

When you look at him, with tears in your eyes and a warmth that makes his heart stumble, he has to swallow. He's never been as grateful to anyone as he is to you.

"I'm free."

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beardedmrbean · 9 months

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NASA's Voyager 2 spacecraft is alone drifting through interstellar space after a communications breakdown left it unable to receive commands or transmit data back to Earth.

Communications with Voyager 2, which is currently around 12.4 billion miles (19.9 billion kilometers) from Earth, were severed as a result of planned commands. These commands rotated the spacecraft's antenna two degrees away from our planet, enough to cut its links to the ground antennas of NASA's Deep Space Network (DSN).

As a result, Voyager 2 is no longer sending data back to the DSN, and mission control on Earth can't send any commands back to the interstellar spacecraft.

Not all is lost, however. Voyager 2, launched in 1977, is programmed to reset its orientation several times a year to keep its antenna directed at Earth. Another reset is scheduled for Oct. 15 this year, and this should result in Voyager 2 resuming contact with its ground control. Until that time, operators expect the spacecraft to stick to its planned trajectory.

Voyager 2 was launched from Launch Complex 41 at Cape Canaveral, Florida, on August 20, 1977. It made history on Dec. 10, 2018, when it became the second spacecraft to leave the solar system and enter interstellar space.

Six years prior to this, its sister craft Voyager 1 became the first man-made craft to journey beyond the influence of our star, the sun. Voyager 1 is currently around 15 billion miles (24 billion km) from Earth and remains in contact with our planet.

Both Voyager 1 and 2 were designed to find and study objects at the edge of the solar system, according to NASA. In the course of doing this, Voyager 2 has been responsible for a number of scientific firsts. It is the only spacecraft that has conducted close-up studies of all four giant planets of the solar system — the gas giants Jupiter and Saturn and the ice giants Neptune and Uranus.

In Jan. 1986, Voyager 2 became the first human-made object to fly past Uranus. During that trip, Voyager 2 discovered 10 new moons and two new rings around the ice giant. In Aug. 1989, it also became the first spacecraft to buzz past Neptune, and while there, it discovered five moons and four rings. While studying Neptune, Voyager 2 also discovered an 8,100-mile by 4,100-mile (13,036 km by 6,600 km) cyclonic storm with winds of up to 1,300 miles per hour (2,092 km/h) raging on the ice giant, which has been dubbed the Great Dark Spot.

In April 2023, NASA announced that Voyager 2 would postpone a planned instrument shutdown by at least three years, continuing to gather valuable deep space data until at least 2026.

"We are definitely interested in keeping as many science instruments operating as long as possible," Voyager project scientist at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in southern California, Linda Spilker, said in a statement issued on Wednesday, April 26.

#nasa #voyager 2

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 3 months

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A DC X DP IDEA #26

History hates Lovers

Imagine dis…

When Batman got lost in time it was said that he made some signs or even some symbols that send a message in the future. For example, a portrait that looked exactly like him or even a cave painting of a bat that looked too modernized to be from the early cavemen.

But it seems that we have forgotten that every change that he made whether it was just standing in a portrait as a background has a severe consequence in the time stream. The butterfly effect rests on the notion that the world is deeply interconnected, such that one small occurrence can influence a much larger complex system. The effect is named after an allegory for chaos theory; it evokes the idea that a small butterfly flapping its wings could, hypothetically, cause a typhoon.

Small changes could result in another and entirely new timeline, whether the changes were small enough that people don’t notice or large enough that people merely conceived it as normal.

But at the end of the day it still changes, so how did the timeline remain stable as it is?

(I am no expert in time travel so don’t get your hopes up, I do enjoy a good time travel or time travel -fix it fic in A03)

…

Bruce didn’t know where and when he is right now. Still weak and disoriented from the consent way he fell from each timeline. One moment he could be in the middle of a group of cavemen and then he was at the edge of a town in the Middle Ages.

He kept sending messages subtle as they may be, as long as they survived the passage of time and arrived to his future. He just hopes that his teammates can see his messages, especially with the flash in their midst who had both knowledge and experience in time travel.

He tried to fit in every time he tried to send a message as the last thing, he needed was to change the time.

…

But little did Bruce know the little messages he kept making and sending, despite their subtleness still created a butterfly effect. It makes some of the people in the period who were supposed to be in time to some event pause and take a look at the mysterious symbols and signs that Bruce made. Thus, making them late or even have some delay, thus creating a large domino effect that started small. From insignificant people, people who are just literally background characters who just have a very short greeting or meeting with someone in the event made the entire timeline crack.

Clockwork was looking at the time stream due to the fragile situation at hand. CW knew that this event was crucial for the Red Robin’s growth as a detective and vigilante. But the small cracks are turning into something unchangeable, CW knew that this was the only communication that the Dark Knight could send as well it was his way to get back to his own time.

Yet CW can see the cracks getting larger and larger, with each move that the Dark Knight made creating more holes in his known future. Usually, such events as the Dark Knight's faces don’t create any consequences or even affect the time stream of the said dimension as it was meant to be. An event unavertable in the end is more justifiable than the means.

But due to the Flash family going back in time as well the countless time traveler visitors made the time stream in that dimension week and prone to break in any given time. It was just a surprise to CW that it lasted so long.

CW found a solution in the form of his apprentice/ grandson, Phantom. Despite the young ghost being an Ancient of Space as well as the King of Infinite Realms he still needs a mentor to not only guide him to his new duties as an Ancient but also his responsibilities as the future High King.

Space and Time are two sides of the same coin thus CW ended up being the mentor of the young Phantom.

Clockwork sent Danny to not only seal in the cracks in the flow of time but also want some great-grandchildren, if you heard the last part then you heard nothing from me.

…

Danny didn’t know he was getting in when Clockwork sent him out to another errand at another time. He should have gotten used to CW’s vague and cryptic errands through time when he was a teen, but as he was sealing another crack from time, he saw something that shouldn’t be in the period. A man clearly from out of time trying and failing to fit in, though he may have fooled the locals but he had been traveling and fixing time since he was in high school.

At first, he looked perplexed but if CW didn’t mention anything then he won’t do anything.

But slowly Danny realized that whichever period the guy was in, it was where the next set of cracks would be, so Danny decided to follow the guy.

…

Bruce may still be weary and tired from the constant falling through time but even in his tired state can see that there is someone following him.

Every era there that man was, seemingly walking around aimlessly but then he noticed that he kept a good distance away from him.

Eventually, it led to and confrontation between the two males.

…

Danny who explained that despite having the power to travel through time cannot help Bruce as his little messages are creating small cracks in the time stream and are merely there to seal up the cracks, but offers news that he will get back to his own time.

Bruce who is just wishing for human contact that relates to him as well in the verge of going off to the Flash to stop going back in time for another chance to eat a breakfast that tasted better than before.

…

The two began conversing with one another and slowly fell in love.

…

Bruce is the first one to fall hard, Danny whose light-heartedness brought Bruce out of his shell. It had only taken a few conversations with each other to lose his shield around his heart. Danny both accepted both Bruce and Batman within him. Danny’s smile lights up Bruce’s world, at first Bruce tries to hide his feelings to Danny so as not to lose his only companion throughout the ordeal.

…

The two began dancing around their feelings and Bruce in an out of character of him sent a love letter and a poem to Danny when the ghost was needed somewhere else to seal the crack.

As old as I am, I have had the most dreadful experiences in love. I have a very dark past and I'm a damaged soul. My past experiences have groomed me into believing that there's no such thing as true love, but with you, I feel different. You make me fall in love with myself too. You always make me smile, and I'm scared. I'm scared to fall in love and get broken again, I'm scared to give my all, only to be used again, to get shamed and embarrassed. I've seen how careful and caring you are around me, but sometimes you give me a cold shoulder, and it's small things like these that break me. Please bear with me and be fragile. I come from a very painful past where I had to be a woman and have no say. All this love and affection is a little scary to me because I'm not used to it. I'm falling for you and I'm falling hard. I hope our love story has a happy ending. Know that I will always love and cherish you.

(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

Danny who received the letter burned red from reading the poem to the point his freckles were the only thing prominent on his red face, Danny knew that this man was from the future and couldn't help but feel a little bit insecure. That man, the Batman is someone out of his league but sends out a letter and a poem of his own.

Published by Family Friend Poems September 2016 with permission of the Author.

My love for you is uncontrollable.

My feelings for you are unstoppable.

Can't go a day without thinking about you.

Without you, I'm not complete.

With you, my heart finds its beat.

My heart is filled with joy because of your love.

You are my strength, and without you I'm weak.

Before you came into my life, I was

Hopeless, lonely, sad.

When you showed up, I knew that you were sent to me. (Namely CW, Danny just knew that old Ancient did something)

You are always here to support me.

Your smile makes me shy,

And sometimes I wonder where you have been all this while,

But I'm just glad that I managed to get you in my life...

YOU FILL MY HEART WITH JOY!

(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

…

When the two realized both were pinning to one another began sending each other little love notes, in the form of short poems to full-blown letters.

Both males whenever received a letter when one was apart, collected and hid it in a box to reread each stroke of the letter from the other, and whenever they were together, they just spent the entire day basking in each other’s presence.

Their little note exchange didn’t stop whenever Bruce fell to another period, Danny just followed him and started a new exchange mail of letters.

Of course, both used pseudonyms in their letters ranging from initials to fake names using only the letters from their names.

…

When Bruce was saved by Red Robin, he felt relieved as he could now stop falling into another period but another shock as he didn’t get to say goodbye to Danny.

Bruce knew that someday it come, but he was going to offer Danny the future with him. He is going to offer Danny the world, but it seems that it was never meant to be.

Maybe that’s why his past self never met Danny, too disappointed, too dejected to meet him once again.

…

It has been a few months since he came back to his future, it was another family outing organized by Dick.

It was a museum featuring the latest found by archeologists, as Bruce was surveying case to another case, he fell upon a worn-out parchment with his handwriting.

Wide-eyed, Bruce looked closely at the exhibit and found that the description said the letter was about a man named “Brooks” confessing his love in the form of a short poem to a woman named “Daniella” who had the same feelings as him but had other responsibilities to fully go where he is.

Bruce began looking at the other exhibits and there along rows and rows of his letter exchange with Danny from different periods.

Jason and Tim who were a few cases away from him began having a heated discussion with a stranger about the supposed woman in the letters being a man the entire exchange is between a pair of male couple, and the so-called Historians are hiding the fact that it was between men.

Bruce was about to interfere with the upcoming verbal fight when a stranger beside him commented that “Daniella” probably missed “Brooks” as the last letter and poem to the exchange when “Daniella” noticed that “Brooks” is no longer responding is…

(By E.E. Cummings)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)I am never without it(anywhere

I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

(E.E. Cummings. "[i Carry Your Heart With Me(i Carry It In]." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-carry-your-heart-with-me-by-ee-cummings)

Bruce is startled as he doesn’t even notice Danny’s last letter to him when he takes a good look at the stranger…

…

There he is, Danny in his early 30’s looking at him with softness and deep love in his eyes and a gentle smile. As if he hadn’t waited centuries for Bruce to appear once again, and what looked like willing to wait once again for him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I have never fallen in love and please mind my poor and lack of love life in my life to relate to my work.

PPPS: I decided to post a bit early, I've got something going on to the actual February 14.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #ghost king danny

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animusrox · 1 year

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LETTERBOXD

1. The Batman 2. Everything Everywhere All at Once 3. Prey 4. Triangle of Sadness 5. Barbarian 6. The Northman 7. Bodies Bodies Bodies 8. The Banshees of Inisherin 9. Bones and All 10. Avatar: The Way of Water

Grade A

11. Turning Red 12. The Menu 13. Babylon 14. Hit the Road 15. Cow 16. Watcher 17. Funny Pages 18. Mad God 19. On the Count of Three 20. Armageddon Time 21. Terrifier 2 22. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On 23. Smile 24. Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery 25. Holy Spider 26. Aftersun 27. The Fabelmans 28. Breaking 29. Decision to Leave 30. The Whale 31. All Quiet on the Western Front 32. Brian and Charles 33. Piggy 34. Saint Omer 35. Thirteen Lives 36. Men 37. The Fallout 38. Resurrection 39. Causeway 40. The Black Phone 41. Official Competition 42. Nope 43. Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio 44. Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood 45. Till 46. TÁR 47. Happening 48. A Love Song 49. The Outfit 50. The Innocents 51. Jackass Forever 52. BARDO, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths 53. Montana Story 54. Three Thousand Years of Longing 55. You Won’t Be Alone 56. The Sadness 57. Halloween Ends 58. Pearl 59. X 60. Vesper

Click "Keep Reading” For My Full List

Grade B

61. This Place Rules 62. Fresh 63. Windfall 64. Kimi 65. No Exit 66. Top Gun: Maverick 67. “Sr.” 68. Farha 69. The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent 70. Weird: The Al Yankovic Story 71. Nitram 72. Speak No Evil 73. Run Sweetheart Run 74. She Said 75. White Noise 76. Puss in Boots: The Last Wish 77. V/H/S/99 78. The Wonder 79. Women Talking 80. Hatching 81. Soft & Quiet 82. Scream 83. To Leslie 84. Hustle 85. Chip ’n Dale: Rescue Rangers 86. Dual 87. God’s Country 88. Emancipation 89. Vengeance 90. Fire of Love 91. Bullet Train 92. Incantation 93. The Valet 94. Hellraiser 95. Christmas Bloody Christmas 96. Significant Other 97. Cha Cha Real Smooth 98. Lucy and Desi 99. Not Okay 100. A Christmas Story Christmas 101. Blonde 102. Deadstream 103. Sissy

Grade C

104. The Bad Guys 105. The Cursed 106. Empire of Light 107. A Man Called Otto 108. Broker 109. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever 110. The Princess 111. Beast 112. After Yang 113. RRR 114. Fall 115. Jackass 4.5 116. Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe 117. Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness 118. Jennifer Lopez: Halftime 119. Lightyear 120. The Pale Blue Eye 121. The Woman King 122. Violent Night 123. God’s Creatures 124. Ambulance 125. Elvis 126. You Are Not My Mother 127. Emily the Criminal 128. Crimes of the Future 129. The Apology 130. The Lost City 131. Wendell & Wild 132. Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 133. The Found Footage Phenomenon 134. See How They Run 135. Spiderhead 136. Studio 666 137. Bros 138. Spin Me Round 139. We’re All Going to the World’s Fair 140. Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank 141. Honor Society

Grade D

142. Thor: Love and Thunder 143. Summering 144. Strange World 145. Glorious 146. The Gray Man 147. Devotion 148. Clerks III 149. The Forgiven 150. Enola Holmes 2 151. Father Stu 152. Jurassic World Dominion 153. DC League of Super-Pets 154. She Will 155. The Bob’s Burgers Movie 156. Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody 157. Hellbender 158. Samaritan 159. Day Shift 160. Sonic the Hedgehog 2 161. Prey for the Devil 162. Troll 163. Uncharted 164. Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile 165. Dashcam 166. Firestarter 167. Do Revenge 168. Catwoman: Hunted 169. The Munsters 170. Amsterdam 171. Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Grade F

172. Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris 173. The Bubble 174. Dead for a Dollar 175. Jerry & Marge Go Large 176. Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. 177. Infinite Storm 178. Marry Me 179. Don’t Worry Darling 180. Spirited 181. Disney's Pinocchio 182. Alice 183. Black Adam 184. Orphan: First Kill 185. The Adam Project 186. The Invitation 187. Texas Chainsaw Massacre 188. Ticket to Paradise 189. The 355 190. Umma

Bottom 10

191. Green Lantern: Beware My Power 192. Deep Water 193. Where the Crawdads Sing 194. Blacklight 195. Mack & Rita 196. Memory 197. Me Time 198. Death on the Nile 199. Morbius 200. Moonfall

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sharksupermacy · 7 months

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expectation

expectation - chaewon x 6/7th member! reader

synopsis: you always had expectations

genre: be warned there is a kiss, angst, idk this timeline a bit weird, fluff at the end?, it's so long..., not very obvious pinning 1.9k words

money, power, and influence

3 most used words that everybody uses to describe you family. smart, blessed, and private were often the words that media would use to describe you parents. your three siblings all accomplished people in their field achieving the highest prestige of each field.

your eldest brother, a 26 year-old astronaut. he is the youngest person in asia to be sent up to space, having a masters in aeronautical engineering. before heading to space he was considered one of the best engineers making and fixing space ships.

followed by your second older brother, a 24 year-old surgeon who works with doctors without borders to help refugees in 3rd world countries to offer free health care. His public image is to seen as the perfect with his "dreamy visuals" and "charming" personality he was seen as the perfect son in law to many moms.

your older sister, a 22 year-old genius at business marketing and an well respected entrepreneur. she was dubbed with the title of "iconic", and "genius" as she made her way up the ranks of one of koreas billionaire without the help of her family money or name.

then there was you, a twenty year-old who had just finished their masters in biology engineering and a producer. but the difference between you and your sibling was that they were claimed by the 'choi' family once they had been successful. This insane drive to be able to receive validation from your parents had led down your siblings of trying to top each other.

when you had study abroad at MIT you had a chance to meet some awesome people realizing how unhealthy your family situation was you wanted to be able to pull away from it. so that's what you did, doing what your family hated the most becoming an idol. oddly enough, you were pretty competent at dancing due to your past in figure skating. passing the audition at source music and being added into a group in the works called 'le sserafim'. Getting along with the members well before the debut, filming the documentary hyping up the debut, and of course learning the choreo.

eventual, a year the time came where you were revealed to the public to as the final member of the le sserafim line up. to say your family was livid at you for becoming an idol, let alone one in a group. parents yelling at you over the phone just beside the room where the fimmies were celebrating the final member debut. multiple text flooded your phone with angry message from your siblings all but one oddly enough, your second eldest brother congratulating on your debut. those words were able to make you release the dam of tears you were holding from frustrations, wrecking every fiber of your being. you had responded with a calm text of 'thanks.'

soon falling asleep on your bed fimmies checking in on you seeing if you wanted to celebrate but was met with you sleeping. assuming that you were just tired from all the stress of debuting soon. closing the door quietly they headed over to the other dorm to celebrate.

it was a year after you debut where you had been last contacted by your family aside from your second brother. apparently, the last child of the esteemed 'choi' family not being claimed had started to make other people feel curious about the last member remaining identity. the hunt for the last child was on, each news outlets all clamoring to get any information about the last choi. searching through many choi who were extremely accomplished at anything eachtime getting repeatedly rejected. People even started claiming that they were the long lost choi. With rumors being shut down official by the statement of the family 'we will not be claiming our last child as they have done something to dishonor our family. until, she has properly return to the path that is right we will not be making any statement regarding our child.'

with that statement you had felt like all of the media eyes turned towards the celebrities because the choi family was well known to dislike the entertainment because of their cheap nature. The only people they liked in the entertainment industry was well established and talented people.

the media teared through the entertainment industry pass making sure they had fit the regulation of being born after 2000s, female, and choi as a last name. you saw as the number dwindled slowly winding down the guesses to lia (itzy) and you. Both companies were pestered to make statements regarding their artists but only jyp had made a statement denying that lia was not apart of that 'choi' family.

which had just left you, and you had not told the company about you being related to that 'choi' family. the issue had become so big that you were eventually called into a meeting with mr.bang about how to address the issue. you had came clean about being related to that 'choi' family but what you had never expect was bang si-hyuk agreeing with you to not say a word to the public business as usual they say.

now the other problem your family. All mad at you for choosing to go into a career path with fake prestige attached to it. Never caring or understanding enough to figure why you had did this. The constant insults of your members and yourself berating you from your family was slowly grinding away at your nerves.

“hey y/n? you good?” asked the korean a bit concerned as you haven’t been your usual self in the while. She dipped her tea bag in her cup wiping the tea bag at the edge of cup after she was done.

"yea," you huffed out not wanting to burden her with your family problems. the members knew aside from the youngest's that you always had family problems regarding becoming an idol but they would never understand how deep hatred ran. chaewon could never understand why you had isolated yourself, but she knew the only one you would open to would be yunjin. it was always the expectation that you would open up to her first as she was the leader, the backbone of the group. but for some odd reason you never did.

if chaewon could describe you with one word, it would be troubling. no matter what she did, even with other members help, you would never talk with her. when push came to shove, both chaewon and you kept shoving each other, always harder than the last. she couldn't put a word on you before; she always admired you from afar before debuting, noticing how you always trained constantly, always striving for perfection.

but this trait eventually became the downfall between the two of you because when you were confronted with your unhealthy training habits, you always shut her out. which had led you to almost shut her out of every aspect of your life she wanted to talk about: family, training progress, song progress, dancing, even the seemingly most random things. whenever, there was a conversation that was had between the two of you, one would always leave frustrated. she just couldn't understand your reluctance to take criticism from her, have a conversation about anything, and how you could never fit her expectations of how to take care of a member.

this led to chaewon talking the ear off of her former member and now soloist, kwon eunbi, about what to do with you. "she's just so closed off and frustrating," chaewon huffed out while punching a pillow beside her.

"have you ever considered why she wouldn't talk to you?" eunbi questioned the small figure huffing on her couch.

"no?? how am i supposed to even think about that when she doesn't even give me a chance to talk to her?" she complained as she finally stopped punching the poor pillow and laid down.

"phrase it this way. why do you have this expectation that she has to be open to you?" eunbi questioned the younger.

"when we were in iz*one, you helped everyone with their problems as a leader should. meaning ... that for me to be a good leader, i should also help the members with their problems, but she never let me do so," chaewon huffed out while hugging the pillow.

"first off, i didn't help everyone with their all problems. i allowed everyone to come to me at their own pace, never setting an expectation for anybody," eunbi explained to chaewon but was interrupted.

"but-" chaewon said as she was about to refute each of her eunbi points but was cut off.

"doesn't mean that because you came to me with your problem, all the members did. we all have our way to cope, and it may be different from other people's, but as long as it's healthy, i see no reason why to intervene," eunbi said while sitting beside chaewon now holding her hand.

"fine, i'll let it be," chaewon huffed into the pillow while squeezing eunbi's hand.

slowly but surely, the more chaewon had backed off. the more you opened up to her, the fewer the yelling matches you both had every day, and slowly came the calm. it was odd for chaewon, she was never used to both of you coexisting peacefully, you on the other side of the kitchen buttering your toast for the morning before going to the gym. when practice came around, it took chaewon every single ounce of her being to not be critical of your every move and to allow the choreographer to point out mistakes, which allowed you to put more of a groove into the dance to fix the problem.

it was odd; it made the choreography more balanced, and you seemed happier with it and yourself. the nights where you had stayed back had lessened, and you were slowly opening up more to her, telling her about the little problems you had throughout the day. which led her to open up to you about the small problems she had throughout the day, and both of you slowly became closer to each other through the happy days.

she noticed a pattern with you. whenever you had expectations placed upon you, you always rebelled and defied those expectations. however, when you had zero expectations, you excelled and thrived in the environment.

until it was in the middle of promotion. you as a part of your family because your family had owed a favor to distract the public. the headline had said

'the choi's family finally claims LE SSERAFIM CHOI Y/N as the last and final child. Hybe has yet to confirm the family's claim. do you think this is true?'

she noticed that you had run out of the room as soon as you saw that headline with a sick look on your face. all of your members except yunjin looked wide-eyed as her eyes darted around the room for you. chaewon slipped out of the room, walking to the washroom, where she knew where you had always gone to hide.

"it's ok." were the only consoling words. then, a minute later, she noticed that the tremors had settled down. you were looking down with your eyes red, biting the tip of your thumb. "hey," the word she mumbles up as she tilts your chin in her direction, "it's going to be okay." the next thing she knew, your lips were on hers, and she was kissing back.

you had defied every bit of her expectation.

a/n: bro i'm actually so addicted to rhythm hive its a problem. been playing super shy and unforgiven on it so much... unforgiven jp is so good stream it- (AND IT HAS ADO-)

#chaewon x reader #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim x reader #kim chaewon x reader #chaewon imagines

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gallifreyanhotfive · 3 months

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 18

Apricot jam calms the Eighth Doctor down.

The Fifth Doctor once shot the Master in the chest.

Once while under attack by space amoeba, the Fourth Doctor briefly reverted back to the Third Doctor.

Once when the Eleventh Doctor took River Song out for her birthday, she somehow cloned herself in an incident the Doctor fought hard to forget about.

The Thirteenth Doctor and River Song co-wrote The Dark Times Times.

Over his life, the Doctor has had many fears, including fire, heights, spiders, receiving healthcare, the dark, being imprisoned or kept in tight spaces, and many more.

The Sixth Doctor is critical of the Thirteenth Doctor due to her vocabulary.

Even though the Fifth Doctor would sometimes hide from Tegan in the Cloister Room, he told her that he couldn't "bear the thought of not having her around."

River Song gifted Amy a tube a hallucinogenic lipstick for Mother's Day one time.

At first, River thought the Eye of Harmony was a nightclub.

The Third Doctor once spent a summer on a narrowboat with Mary Berry.

The Fifth Doctor does not like being referred to as sweet.

Clara Oswald has been known to phone the TARDIS to get to school on time if she overslept.

The Eleventh Doctor didn't immediately banish himself to the 19th century after Amy and Rory were taken by the Weeping Angels. He eventually decided to stop meddling after he was tricked by the Dalek Time Controller.

Just as the Eighth Doctor's favorite number is 8, the Eleventh Doctor's favorite number is 11.

The people of Trenzalore observed on many occasions that the Doctor had "occasional moments of insanity."

Clara Oswald was the model for Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa. The Twelfth Doctor thought da Vinci captured Clara's smile perfectly even though the painting did not portray her exact likeness.

When shown evidence of Peri's 'death,' the Sixth Doctor felt a pain so sharp it was like dying himself.

In an alternate timeline, River Song and the Doctor began a passionate romantic relationship beginning when he was the First Doctor and married by the time he was the Fourth Doctor. In this timeline, she and the Third Doctor would meet up without the Brigadier's knowledge to practice one-legged Venusian aikido while blindfolded on a tightrope.

While on Trenzalore, the Eleventh Doctor lost his leg due to nasty business involving a Tsunami Snake.

The Eighth Doctor notably has a fetish for pink bunny slippers.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

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filmjunky-99 · 2 years

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s t a r t r e k d e e p s p a c e n i n e created by rick berman, michael piller Paradise Lost [s4ep11]

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mamayan · 8 months

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I’m 26 just shy as fuck with using my blog for asks, but I will literally owe you my life for Sanemi yobai if you ever feel like doing it.

I don’t need your life nonnie, fear not! I will be taking your soul though Your ask will be answered! Except, Sanemi is such a stubborn baby, and due to this, his potential sweetheart will be the one who needs to initiate… deeper relations.

★彡Yobai☆彡

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

Yobai “Night Crawling”

The pre-Meiji Era practice of slipping into a consenting woman’s room at night for sexual relations or even courtship.

Synopsis: Your sweetheart, Sanemi, won’t open his heart further out of fear for your safety. His efforts to protect you ultimately pushing you away. You set the record straight.

CW: NSFW • FLUFF • Virgin! Sanemi • Creampie • Oral (F)

Read Kyojuro Rengoku’s Yobai story here!

The Shinazugawa estate lays ahead in the distance, the night nearly swallowing it within it’s starless sky. You raise your chilled fingers to your lips to blow quickly dissipating warmth, feet shuffling through the ankle deep snow. The streets are silent, even the wind still. The world a mixture of purity and loneliness around you. You glance around, doors tightly shut, the inhabitants likely all asleep. Leaving you utterly alone with only a stubborn resolve clenched in your heart.

“You need to leave.”

“Sanemi—,”

“Please…” how could you do anything else? His hands shaking as he fists them at his side, his head turned as if even looking at you would crack his resolve. He wouldn’t let you speak the words, the sentence you’ve both been aching to utter to one another for months now.

I love you.

It was left unsaid. How could you not feel defeated? You regretted walking away, not turning around and grabbing him, screaming to the world how you truly felt. That the big bad Hashira, the respected Wind Pillar, Sanemi Shinazugawa, held your heart in it’s entirety. You’ve watched and waited for months, never pushing, always resilient, but it was getting you nowhere. If his own younger brother couldn’t reach him, what were you capable of? What did you have that could crack his resolve, make him give in, to be happy for once. Selfish. Even just a little.

You stare up at the wide gates, the entrance to his home tightly closed. You were no demon slayer, no professional, but you’d scraped your knees enough as a child to handle scaling his walls with the help of a nearby tree.

Your heart beat a mile a minute, palms sweaty despite the freezing cold, as you slowly made your way to his front door.

You sent a silent prayer it was unlocked like you assumed.

It was. The doors push open and you’re quick to slip inside the warm walls and push the cold back out. It’s still and quiet inside as well, but it was the middle of the night and you knew Sanemi kept himself on a strict routine. You briefly frown, the thought of him all alone within such a large house. Your resolve further solidifies, your own anxiety and fear nothing to compared to his suffering and pain. You didn’t foolishly believe you’d cure anything, your presence wouldn’t return anyone lost, but if he could just live for himself… even just a little, didn’t that count for something? You vowed you’d do all within your power to make him happy.

You slip your shoes shoes off, not wishing to track the soaked snow ridden things onto the clean floors.

Softly padding down the hall, you used your memory to find his room. Only once coming close to the space, a moment he’d smashed with his own hands, when you’d nearly kissed that day.

It didn’t matter. Not tonight.

He’d either fully reject you, tell you he doesn’t want you, and nothing about safety or whatever excuse he’s dared to already use. He’d reject you or… he’d take you.

You knew the secret rendezvous lovers this day and age participated in. Night crawling a popular and relatively safe way to find compatible marriage partners without harming reputation.

Though… you grimace, reminded how it’s normally the man’s position to initiate…

You shake it off. Sanemi not the sort of man to act on such desires. His self control nearly masochistic.

Creeping closer, your hand softly touches the shoji door separating his sleep space. It opened silently, your relief palpable as you run over the scenario you’ve created in your mind for how this might play out. His reactions and words already mapped so you can reply and retort strongly to make your case.

Except your mind goes completely blank when you fully open the door only to be greeted with a full katana only an inch from your face.

“Hck!” It’s a choked noise which escapes you, your quick retreat causing you to land on your bottom as you look up into the intense dark amethyst gaze of a scared white haired man. His hair more tousled and fluffy than usual, his loose yukata hardly on his imposing frame, more skin exposed than covered.

His brows furrow, a twitch to his eye as veins visibly throb around his temple.

“You better have a damn good reason,” his irritation clearly displayed as he glares down at you. “For showing up in the middle of the night, in winter for fucks sake!” His sword is sheathed and set aside as he stomps towards you, wrapping a large palm around your bicep and pulling you rather gently to your feet. His threatening display and looming figure over you juxtaposed to his soft handling of your body.

Strike one.

“I love you.” His eyes can’t widen any further.

“Sanemi, I love you, I’ve loved you for—,” he cuts you off. Stubborn man he is.

“Stop! You don’t know what you’re saying, you need to go home.” His face turns away from you, but the moonlight shining from the hall onto you both illuminates the pink tint his skin has taken. He’s furiously blushing.

Strike two.

“I know exactly what I’m saying. I love you Sanemi Shinazugawa, I want to be yours.”

He’s nearly choking at your words, looking visibly startled and insulted.

“Do you even know what you’re saying idiot?!” He’s making himself angrier, believing you don’t truly understand what you’re implying. You stand unwavering before him though.

The tall young man at a loss of how to handle this entire situation delicately. He couldn’t toss you out, it’s the middle of winter, and you lived no where close to him. How you even made it here so thinly dressed causes another vein to nearly burst at your carelessness.

“I’m going to get some blankets, you can stay on the other side of the house tonight—“

“No!” The furrow of your brows and cute pouty display of stomping your foot had him pausing, flushing even deeper and becoming even more furious if possible.

“Hah?” If his face could twist any further, you’d wonder if he sucked on a lemon.

“I want to sleep with you.”

“W-what?” For all he’s worth, Sanemi is not an experienced man. No, in the end, he’s still a hot blooded young man, and he’s easy prey to the charms of the woman he loves claiming to want to share his bed.

Strike three.

You didn’t hesitate anymore. Despite Sanemi being bigger and physically much more powerful than you, he let himself be manhandled by you. Your soft hands touching his bare chest enough to make him tremble, so he was truly unable to fight as you pushed him further into his own room and shove him down onto his bed.

He’s dumbfounded, looking up at you now, your pretty face set serious as you start fumbling with your clothes.

He reacts late, realizing you’re stripping. For him. In his room. In his fucking bed.

His voice is weak, pathetic really.

“S-stop, please,” he has to stop just to swallow, breathing shallow as your smooth skin becomes bare for his eyes. He can only wet his dry lips as you let your robes slip, his room illuminated from the hall, your curves nearly all visible. A thin band of fabric over your chest.

“We-no, w-wait—,” really, it’s got none of his usual gusto behind it. You’re made to move on him, and he acts as helpless as kitten as you straddle him, pressing yourself so close he’s reeling with panic and arousal. Hands twitching just before your waist, unsure if he wants to give in and pull you closer or stop this madness like he should.

You don’t let him debate further. Hands cupping his scared cheeks, before you lean in to press your lips against his.

The kiss is stiff, only you kissing him as he sits below you frozen.

It’s not until you tentatively let your tongue slip out to lick the seam of his lips that he snaps.

You’re flipped, landing cushioned by the bed beneath you, as Sanemi stares down at you. Wide eyes staring at you for only a moment before he’s crashing his lips against your own passionately now. Softening and molding them to you, so needy and sweet you open your mouth, his tongue entering and warming your body up as your arousal spikes.

His form is still shaking, muscles flexing and seeming strained as he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again. He seems to melt as you wrap your arms around around his neck, pulling him closer as he drops to his elbows, letting a little weight rest on you. He tastes sweet, you can’t help but note. Nearly as sweet as he smells.

You’re both forced to break for air, panting as you look into his half lidded gaze, his facial expression more lax.

“I love you,” you whisper it against his lips, his reaction visceral as he finally digs his hands into you, gripping your hips tight as he groans. You giggle, letting your own hands wander as he bows his head to rest on your soft chest. You’re reminded of a cat as he lets his cheek rub against your breast, his eyes closed as he breathes you in.

He lifts, kissing your covered chest, as he meets your eyes. They’re soft and desperate all at once, your heart constricting as he kisses your lips so softly.

“I love you too,” it’s hardly audible but you swoon, reconnecting your lips and letting your thighs spread.

He does it unconsciously, digs his knees into the bed and pushes your legs up even further to slot himself perfectly against you. You just feel so good, soft warm beneath him as he squeezes and feels all of you for once.

Your cool hands work into his robe, pushing the fabric easily off his chest and shoulders, and he’s happy to allow you to admire his physique. Sliding his arms out of his sleeves and sitting up so you can feel more of him, down the rough panes of his chest to his abs, and the light trail of hair going from his navel down.

“Hmph,” his smirk is mouth watering, “see something you like?” It only brings a bigger smile to your lips, giggling as you pull him back to your lips, moaning into his mouth when his own hands begin to tug on the covering over your chest, and you happily lift to allow him to remove it.

He breaks the kiss to look at you, embarrassed by how his mouth waters and cock aches as he takes you in. He’s almost hesitant, despite all your bold proclamations, he resembles more of a young maiden than you for a moment.

“Is it alright…?”

“Sanemi, please,” it’s your soft little whine that makes him groan, happily to indulge as he gropes at your chest and lowers his head to lick and suck.

His gentle, so feather light in touch, worried about hurting you or scaring you. You, showing up to his room like a dream, his wildest fantasies playing out and making him scalding hot. It’s when your fingers thread through his hair that he nips at your areola, licking when you jolt and cry out in apology before he returns the same treatment to it’s twin.

“Sanemi!” Your moan is intoxicating, and he can’t help how he grinds against you, but still too focused on touching you to rush anything.

“So fucking soft…” he’s muttering under his breath, eyes wild as he looks at your panting pretty image.

“Please, touch more…?” It’s all the confirmation he needs, one hand traveling from your chest down your stomach, dipping into your soaked core.

“You’re wet,” he chuckles, more amazed than anything else because he did this, made you look like this. He’s not mean though, sinking a finger inside you as you arch your back and moan for him. His gaze trained on how your small hole stretches so nicely, becoming even wetter as he moves and rubs inside you.

You take a second to adjust as well, his hand on your breast leaving in favor of shoving your knee up to your chest so he can truly watch.

“This position… wait your face, oh!” He’s smiling but you can’t see, not as he removes his fingers to lick up your dripping arousal. You dig your fingers back into his tresses, making him moan as he begins to really dig into your pussy with conviction. Letting his nose grind into your clit as he sticks his tongue inside and swallows you, your hips unable to stop how they twitch and squirm.

“Sanemi I think I’m gonna—,”

Your pitched voice has his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs.

“Fuck, go ahead baby, let me taste you.” His words coupled with his renewed vigor to feast on you, has you breaking for him. Crying out and tugging on his hair as you shake and moan.

He doesn’t let a drop go to waste, nearly overstimulating you accidentally as you huff and beg for him to fuck you.

“What was that?” His tone is teasing, grin feral as he looks down at you with those pointed cat eyes. You kindly indulge his ego though, reaching out to him with watery eyes, saccharine tone making him puff up. “Please…” you draw cutely.

“Fuck me already you idiot,” you laugh, breaking the mood just a bit as he rolls his eyes, shoulders dropping and relaxing as he covers you again, now fully naked beneath him as he works to throw his yukata to the side, focusing on keeping you distracted as he grips his cock tightly in his hand.

“Little minx, look at you,” his demeanor is so different like this, melting with kindness and compassion as he kisses you. The taste of yourself combined with his sweetness making you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

“Eager?” You nearly revoke your statement of kindness at his cocky attitude, but you tense up as bit as he allows the head of his cock to drag through your folds. Wetting himself with your arousal.

You try to look down, but his hand catches your jaw and redirects your attention with another deep and sloppy kiss.

You break away when he begins to push in, a bit panicked as you finally look down to see he’s trying to push that into you.

“Sanemi, that isn’t going to—,” he kisses you again, mumbling against your lips and pushing you to lie back, “Shh… you’ll relax for me, won’t you flower?” It’s a cliche nickname, but from his lips it’s nothing if not perfect as you try to obey.

You didn’t need to get cold feet now, even if he was enormous and your gut churned in anxiety, he was yours wasn’t he? The thought calmed you, his lips and gentle touch keeping you pliant as he begins to sink into you.

His flushed appearance doesn’t help hide it, but he’s on the verge of panic himself.

Pushing into your tight heat has his toes curling, teeth grit for concentration and control, and his breathing so similar to training it would be impossible to tell the difference.

You feel too good, feel so perfect, gooey walls squeezing his cock and turning his head mushy, unable to really think as he sinks a little deeper.

He’s trying to be gentle, give you time to adjust because he’s not ignorant of his size. Your cute reaction certainly boosting his ego plenty, but he’s cognizant watching you, checking for any sign of real distress.

“Sanemi, I’m so full…,” but he’s still just an inexperienced young man, so hearing you moan like that? His hips jerked and he shoved himself completely inside, sharp hiss of pleasure and wide eyes growing terrified as you cry out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry, are you okay? Should I stop?”

“No, don’t stop!” It’d be worse to start all over again, you knew.

He holds you close as you pant, kissing your face, hair line, nose, and lips to keep you distracted. His thick cock filling you so much, stretching your walls and hitting so deep inside, you briefly wonder if sex is even going to work.

Until you relax. Your body allowing him shockingly deeper and you moan because it feels good now, the stretch and feeling him so close to you.

“C-can I…?” He’s gone too, looking ruined and sweaty, so red it’s adorable, despite his size and intimidating appearance. You nod, your soft noises encouraging as he pulls out, slowing pushing back into you.

“Fuck,” he’s gripping you close, leaning on his elbows again so he can bury his face in your neck. Your cute expression of pleasure too much for him to look at without finishing too quickly.

He has to bite his tongue not cum.

His hips working awkwardly inside you, unsure how deep to go or what makes you feel good as you pant and moan beneath him. You’re overwhelmed, certainly not in pain, but feeling so much of him had you choking. The man you love trying so hard to make you feel good and be gentle despite his soft whimpers and whines into your neck. Too embarrassed to show his face anymore.

“I love you—“ you hiss, his cock sinking hard and deep into you at the confession as he shudders against you.

“Don’t say that, fuck,” his thrusts increase, a bit of sweat dripping onto you now, mixing with your own as you cling to him.

“Coming into my home,” he’s getting more aggressive, one of his hands moving down between you two, rubbing at your clit as you clamp down and cry. Your wet eyes finally spilling over into tears. “You don’t get to cry,” he’s nearly on the verge of tears himself, “not when you offered yourself to me like this,” he can’t help watching your pussy take him, “no, you’re mine now, aren’t you?” His smile is wobbly, his own eyes a bit wet as he feels his end nearing.

You nod, unable to speak as your back arches and you come around him, throwing him over the edge as he throws his head back and fills you. His shout bleeding with pleasure.

He comes a ridiculous amount. Painting your insides and excessively flowing out of you despite his cock remaining inside. Each twitch felt as you milk him for all he’s worth.

He can only weakly collapse against you, dragging you to the side while still connected to hold you close as he buries his face in your chest.

You catch your breath together, no one speaking as you pet his soft hair and he listens to your heart.

You smile, letting sleep slowly take you as you thank Kyojuro’s younger brother for giving you such good relationship advice.

Though, you still had to wonder how the young Senjuro knew about yobai…

#lmao match maker Senjuro though #it’s now an ongoing joke #kimetsu no yaiba #kny Sanemi #sanemi shinaguzawa #Sanemi x reader #Sanemi x reader smut #sanemi smut #18+#request filled #kny Sanemi smut #virgin Sanemi #Sanemi Yobai #kny #kny x reader #he’s a damn virgin in my mind

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chaoticace2005 · 2 months

Text

Reasons why Niffty might be so small:

(Related: list of why she has one eye.)

1. To represent the fact that her whole life she felt looked down on by people living in the world as a mixed-race woman in the 50s

2. So she can crawl through the vents easily.

3. Budget cuts. All the money for height was used on Angel, Sir Pentious and Valentino. So there was very little left for Niffty.

4. She was one of Santa’s elves until she fled to become a dentist.

5. Why aren’t YOU that short? God, some people!

6. Everyone else is abnormally tall.

7. To stab people’s ankles when they least expect it.

8. So she can be closer to the floor and closer to the bugs.

9. So she can fit in the oven to take naps.

10. It’s a good size to sneak up behind someone while they’re talking and stab them :)

11. Angel stole it from her.

12. She’s half Egg Boi.

13. With deals with Alastor when you trade away your soul you also trade away part of your height. This happened to Husk too to a lesser extent and is why Alastor can grow to be so tall.

14. She’s a bug puppeting a doll of a demon. This was the biggest size they had.

15. She was actually really tall in life and this is her eternal punishment.

16. Unlike the other characters she never got out through a taffy puller.

17. She’d be too powerful if she was any larger.

18. You need to sleep to grow. Niffty never does.

19. She’s Alastor’s ventriquist dummy

20. So her eye to body size ration is REALLY out of wack

21. She lost the bottom half of her body in the Great Pirate War

22. To consolidate her power. Short people contain energy in a smaller amount of space, making it more pressurized, the more pressure the more powerful.

23. The ears Alastor has actually used to be her feet, but she didn’t want them so she gave them away.

24. Rosie and Alastor got hungry once

25. Every kill she has takes a mm from her height (you don’t want to know how tall she was originally.)

26. So she can be closer in size to her greatest love, a roomba with knives.

27. She knife monopolied too hard once. Got in debt, you can fill in the blanks.

28. So her enemies underestimate her

29. So she can hide under your bed and you will NEVER know :)

#writing this as someone shorter than most people was fun :)#what’s my obsession with roombas with knives? I don’t know but they’re fun!!#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #stupid hazbin hotel lists #niffty #niffty hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel crack #alastor hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel

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mcflymemes · 8 months

Text

VARIOUS SETTINGS / LOCATIONS PROMPTS * location based prompts for starters, adjust as necessary

[ 01 ] a crowded masquerade party, on the dance floor

[ 02 ] the narrow space between two dusty bookshelves

[ 03 ] a shady spot in the sand under a boat dock

[ 04 ] the cereal aisle of a neighborhood cornerstore

[ 05 ] a one-stall, one-sink bathroom in a noisy bar

[ 06 ] standing next to the only car in an otherwise-empty parking lot

[ 07 ] a field of ready-to-pick corn, the stalks making it impossible to see the space around you

[ 08 ] the sun-dappled, grassy edge of a small lake

[ 09 ] intermission at a broadway show

[ 10 ] seated beside each other at a nail salon

[ 11 ] a desolate field in the middle of nowhere, just before a rainstorm

[ 12 ] a lonely bus stop at 2am

[ 13 ] the garden center of a home improvement store

[ 14 ] the only two people at a hotel bar on new year's

[ 15 ] on a bench beside a large fountain and its lit-up water display

[ 16 ] the messy chaos of an all-you-can-eat buffet

[ 17 ] a city rooftop with lightning in the distance

[ 18 ] a rusty fire escape

[ 19 ] inside an ice cream shop

[ 20 ] at the entrance of a lost temple in the middle of a thick jungle

[ 21 ] the waiting area of a busy doctor's office

[ 22 ] a city street teeming with news vehicles, camera crews, and reporters

[ 23 ] a hammock on the beach strung between two palm trees

[ 24 ] a locked door. the key is under the mat

[ 25 ] the large, ornate rotunda of an official building

[ 26 ] an empty, run-down subway car

[ 27 ] the only gas station for miles

[ 28 ] an airport café during the breakfast rush

[ 29 ] a wine tasting event for couples

[ 30 ] the cliffside overlooking a magnificent, roaring waterfall

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thoughtsfromlayla · 25 days

Text

26 Ways of Taking You: C for Cockwarming

Summary: You and Dream come to a compromise after you asked for some "space." It never ends well for you, does it?

Notes: ~770 words, I kinda gave up after a while. Well maybe didn't give up but like "Well that's about it" and then called it good. Not my longest work but, still hot.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, public intercourse (no one bats an eye though), slight humiliation, GN! reader, penetrative intercourse

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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You conceal your face further as another voice follows, your hands clutched desperately onto Dream’s jacket lapel. Your face was thoroughly red, from embarrassment or greedy pleasure, you’re not entirely sure. Beneath you, Dream is going about his business as he addresses the audience for the day. All while completely ignoring your shaking form sitting on him, cock deep and pulsing within your walls.

Ever since he escaped from the Burgess Manor a few months ago, he has not been able to keep his hands off of you. At first, it was a welcomed touch. You had missed him for those 106 years just as he missed you. But, after a while, it got a bit ridiculous.

He followed you around like a lost puppy, hands never leaving your waist, lips wandering from lips to neck to chest. And like teenagers in love, sneaking you between crevices and aisles to have a few fast minutes of “fun time” just to satiate his touch. You had your own responsibilities to tend to, especially after the heart of the Dreaming came back. You feel as if you would have gotten a lot more done if he hadn’t always pulled you back into bed after the first few rounds of passionate lovemaking during the waking hours.

In a desperate conversation, you asked for space so you could get a few things done. Morpheus wasn’t at all pleased with it, as he isn’t with most things that aren’t in his control. But, for his lover? He will permit it, after one more act.

Which is how you got here, scandally clad, arms tucked between your two chests as he talks to the Dreaming residents and your arousal soaking his pants. You felt like a top teetering on top of a highly sprung string, suspended from undeniably perfect pleasure and something not quite. What made it even more unbearable is how you could feel Dream’s smugness radiating off him.

He had a possessive hand on your lower back, something like insurance so you couldn’t easily get off him when you thought it would be too much. The other was resting on the arm of his throne as he keeps his kingly appearance.

“Yes, that sounds like a plausible idea,” He agrees to something you weren’t paying attention to. “What do you think, darling?”

When he asks, he shifts in his seat and his cock moves within you, just slightly. It had the promise of pleasure but was stopped short by how little he moved in you. A mixture of a whine and whimper escapes despite your bitten lip. You only respond by nodding once, barely a tick of the head. A chuckle from Dream bounces you, barely, and just like before, barely gives you the pleasure you seek.

“If my equal agrees then you have my permission.” His free hand shoos away the resident.

When they turn, he runs a finger down your spine and asks you another question.

“Had enough yet, my love? Or can you go for more?” It was completely condescending, to speak to you in an “I told you so” kind of tone. And even though you were practically begging at the seams of your body for some sort of friction or release of any kind, you are just as stubborn as your King.

“No, you can keep… going!” Your last word came out as a small squeal as he suddenly thrusts up into your weeping cunt. Your eyes roll to the back as you throw your head back with a moan that flows through the air. The open air ceiling seems to taunt you and you’re sure every dream and nightmare of the realm can hear the lewd noise you just made. The statues that were carved along the column of the room seem to turn their eyes towards the two of you, making you feel all the more exposed to Morpheus’ actions.

“Very well, let us keep going.” He lays back in his chair and his legs spread further, in turn spreading you further for him as well.

You unceremoniously sink further down on him and you’re left panting into his neck. You’re close to tears at the teasing and under stimulation you were receiving. Oh, what wouldn’t you do to have your king’s full attention on you instead of living off the scraps of his shifting movements and lazy fingers stroking circles on your hip.

“Bring the next audience in,” Dream commands, and the doors open again.

“You are cruel, my king,” You barely sob into his body.

“Not as cruel as you might think,” He quips with a pinch to the supple of your hip.

At the peak hours of 1:47 AM, Layla bought the entire 3,000 page series of The Sandman but said that it was free cause her tax refunds came back.

Good thing her major is not in finances.

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #dream x reader smut #the sandman x reader smut #morpheus x reader smut #morpheus smut

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justagalwhowrites · 4 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 26: Carved

You and Joel search for Savvy outside of Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst because... duh when do I not serve everything with a side of angst. I wish I could tell you why. Canon typical violence. Past suicide attempt. Suicidal ideation. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 10.7k (I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE EITHER OK)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It had gone unsaid for at least a day now.

Joel had been outside of Jackson with you for nine days and there was no sign of Savvy and it was time to turn back. He’d let you lead the way, picking directions, deciding when to stop for the day (within reason, he’d had to suggest breaks and point out the conditions of the horses at least once a day.) But there was nothing that pointed to her.

Your fourth day out, the two of you tracked a small group but it was about 10 people - three families with four kids between them - traveling to Seattle. When you found them, they were low on food so the two of you handed over the bulk of your rations. Joel told them about Jackson while you showed the younger kids the horses, keeping the occupied with a soft smile on your face as you patiently taught them how to pet Renaissance, how they had to hold their palms flat when offering her food. Joel wondered, not for the first time, how he’d never realized that you were a mother. It was so clearly built into you now that he knew to look for it. The families said they were heading for the coast and Joel hoped they found their way.

Day seven led you both to an abandoned camp that had been occupied by some kind of small party but nothing to indicate if it was raiders or someone else, though there was at least one horse. The two of you tracked that group for the last two days but they went into a stream they didn’t immediately ford and you lost the trail entirely.

“Fuck!” You dismounted into the water after you’d followed along the stream for several miles and seen no sign of the group on the shore. You kicked the water and screamed - the sound shrill and almost feral, more animal than human - before you fell to your knees. You collapsed back onto your heels as the stream flowed around your legs. You didn’t seem to notice.

Joel got down from his horse, too, gathering the reins of both animals and tying them to a nearby tree before meeting you in the water. He slowly lowered himself down on one knee, careful to leave some space between the two of you. Your hands were limp atop your thighs, palms facing to the sky, head bowed, prostrate to whatever higher power would bring your daughter back.

“Bambi,” he said softly. You didn’t even lift your head. This loss hit hard, he knew. The sign of a horse had perked you up. You had sat up straighter in your saddle, your eyes had more life in them. Your body had carried the signs of hope and those signs were gone now. “It doesn’t mean anything. It could have been anyone, just because…”

“What if she’s gone, Joel?” You asked, your voice cracked and broken. “What if it wasn’t a lie, what if…”

“Don’t know that,” he cut you off.

You’d told him what Mitchum had said to you, what he’d shown you as proof that your child was gone. The thought of it had nearly made him vomit, all but choking down bile as you spoke.

It had broken you for a while. More than a year, from the sounds of it. But, one day, you decided you couldn’t know what had happened to her, not really. Mitchum hadn’t given you any actual proof. He’d told you something he knew would torture any parent, gave you the piece of a beloved animal as a trophy. But the horse had been the older one, the smaller one. The one that could have been caught while Savvy slipped away on the younger, larger animal. So you made yourself move again, made yourself start preparing for a life beyond the place they kept you chained. You made sure you were ready to search when the time came.

Joel wasn’t sure if it was delusional or if it was discerning, if your mind was just desperate to find a reason to keep living or if you were seeing the holes in the logic of the cruelty forced on you.

“You can’t know,” he said. “Not for sure. Not unless we find her.”

“What if she died afraid and alone?” You asked, like you didn’t even hear him. But you lifted your head at least, your eyes finding his. “What if she was cold or hurting? She gets cold so easy, she always wears socks, even in summer… I could have held her, at least, I could have made it easier…”

Joel tried not to think about Sarah. About holding her, telling her that everything was going to be OK. About how his last words to her had been a lie. About how he wasn’t sure the last time he’d told her that he loved her. About how he wasn’t sure if telling her that as she bled out in his arms would have made it better or worse.

“You don’t know,” he said instead. “You taught her everything you knew, right? Means she’s smart, she’s resourceful. She’s out there, Baby, she is.”

You just looked at him, your eyes flat and dead and he wondered, for a moment, if that’s what Tommy saw looking back at him in the years before they made it to Boston.

“C’mon,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t shrink away from him. “Let’s get out of the water, it’ll be dark real soon, anyway. We can find a place to camp here, get you dried off.”

You didn’t say anything, you just hung your head, looking down at your hands again.

“Bambi,” he said after a minute. “Can’t help her by stayin’ here. We gotta keep you going and that means getting out of this cold water, now let’s go. Not going to do her any good if you get sick out here, let’s go.”

You nodded a little at that and Joel got up himself before helping you to your feet. He guided you to the horses and gave you Renaissance’s reins before leading you to a place far enough away from the stream that anyone following it wouldn’t see you but close enough that it would be easy enough to refill canteens.

He set up camp and got out dry clothes from your pack.

“Bambi,” he said gently. You at least looked at him, even though your eyes still looked dead. “Should get changed out of those wet clothes. I’m going to go get us somethin’ to eat real quick, you get dry. OK?”

You took the pants and socks from Joel but just stared at them for a moment.

“Have to change, OK?” He said, watching you. “Can’t help her if you’re sick or hurt. Not good to sit in wet clothes for too long, gotta change.”

You nodded then and he slung his rifle over his arm.

“Gonna be alright for a bit?” He asked. You nodded. “Gonna come back to you in one piece, right?”

You nodded again, though Joel still felt uneasy.

“Back soon,” he said.

He picked his way carefully through the forest, back toward the stream where there’d been plenty of signs of animal life. Since the two of you had given most of your rations to the travelers, he’d hunted almost daily. It reminded him of crossing the country with Ellie and, under other circumstances, he’d probably enjoy being out here like this with you.

In another reality, he’d bring his guitar. After the two of you hunted together, he’d play and you’d sing and then he’d hand the instrument to you and he’d sing while you played and you’d sit so that your body was against his, where he could feel the heat of you beside him. When the fire died, you’d climb in the same sleeping bag and he’d hold you close and tight and kiss you all soft and needy. You’d moan against his mouth and he’d slip inside you as though he belonged there, at home between your thighs and burrowed against your chest.

Instead he was alone and worried about leaving you unattended.

He remembered what he’d been like after Sarah died.

It wasn’t a pleasant memory. It was hard to recall the exact feeling in those early days of loss. When he focused on it, tried to actually get an idea of that hell, he was often reminded of the idea that mothers forget the pain of labor when it’s done. How the agony fades so they can face the idea of giving birth again. He wondered if that’s what his mind had done, too. If his head made that time hazy and lost so he could keep on living because surviving that again would be impossible. He’d never risk it.

He hadn’t wanted to survive it then. He’d tried not to, lasting not even a day without his daughter’s kind smile or keen gaze or smart mouth before he pressed a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

For a very long time, he didn’t know why he flinched. For a very long time, he wished it had worked. And something told him that he had the same look in his eyes then that you had now.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got you back to Jackson. The two of you needed to turn back, you couldn’t just stay out here forever. Maria said he could have two weeks and he figured it would be OK if he pushed that by a bit but he couldn’t disappear with you for the time it took to comb every square mile of the wilderness.

What if you gave up like him? You were so much stronger than him. You wouldn’t flinch away from it, he knew that. What if you surrendered to it and he wasn’t there to save you? What if you just didn’t show up at the stables one morning and he went to find you and instead found your body, cold and empty and alone? Just what was left of you, surrounded by your music collection and the guitar he made you and the books you scrawled notes in, all these signs pointing to your life that would be gone. His might be gone, then, too.

He settled in what he thought was a good spot, signs of rabbits plentiful. Joel set up behind a fallen log, setting up the gun, and waited. It didn’t take long. A bush rustled nearby and he turned, quickly, before going still, gun set and ready. A minute passed, then two. Finally, a rabbit emerged, taking a cautious hop into the open. He fired and it fell. He slung the gun on his back and picked the animal up - carefully, deliberately - its hind legs still warm, sinews pliable.

He turned to start back to camp when he froze. Ahead of him was a deer, graceful and fragile, eyes wide and soft and watching him like he was watching her. Something in a nearby tree rustled and she startled for a second, wild and cautious, but stilled before looking back at Joel. At her feet was a tiny fawn, its coat speckled and its legs spindly and splayed. The mother watched him closely, like she was trying to figure out if this two-legged creature in her forest was a threat. He wondered if she’d ever seen a person before.

“It’s OK mama,” he said softly after a moment. “Not gonna hurt you or your baby. You’re OK.”

She watched him for another moment, not jumping when he moved - slowly - to stand up straight. It was like part of her could feel that he was safe, that she didn’t need to be so on guard with him. Eventually, she hung her head low, nudging her baby forward. Joel watched them until they were swallowed by the forest, mother leading her child through the wilderness.

***

Life in the forest around you felt loud.

You couldn’t make much out, all of it melding together into a drone that you could feel in your ears. There were crickets and birds and frogs and the rustle of leaves and it meant you couldn’t hear the blood in your ears anymore. Or maybe you could and the wilderness had swallowed you up, too.

That seemed like the best option. To disappear into the earth with the untamed things. Maybe it would stop hurting then.

You weren’t entirely sure how far you’d gone. Joel had woken you early that morning. You’d been in the middle of a dream, one that you couldn’t remember now. You just knew that your heart was racing and you kept feeling like there was something just out of your reach, something you desperately needed to get to.

“Bambi,” he said gently, a hand on your shoulder. There was something in you that wanted to pull away but you didn’t. You stayed where you were, fumbling through your mind as you tried to remember why your heart was threatening to race out of your chest. You looked up at him, a sad look in his eyes. He always had that look now, it seemed. He took his hand back. “Sorry… You were dreaming… Didn’t seem like it was anythin’ good.”

You just nodded and pinched your eyes shut for a moment. It didn’t seem to make a difference.

Joel gave you something to eat - you couldn’t really taste it - and you stared into space between bites, back propped against a tree.

“Bambi,” he said, in a tone that made it seem like it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. You turned your head to look at him, fidgeting with some of the meat Joel had given you. “We… we really need to consider heading back to Jackson.”

You frowned.

“But…”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m so sorry we didn’t find her yet. But we need to turn back, this is day 10 and it’s gonna take a few days to make it…”

“I can’t just give up on her, Joel,” you said quietly. “I can’t, I…”

“I’m not saying give up on her,” he replied. “I’m saying that we go back to town, let the horses rest, plan where else to go next time. If… if we’re smart about it, we can search a good portion of the region without backtracking and covering the same ground twice, give us a better shot. But we can’t do that out here, Baby, we just can’t. We don’t have the rations, we’ll run out of ammo if we run into trouble, the horses will be pushed too hard. We need to go back.”

You knew he was right. But it still felt so wrong, going back to Jackson without her.

“We can take a different route back?” You asked, ready to fight him if he said no.

“Course,” he said. “We’ll see what we can find, OK? But we need to head back.”

You sighed, looking out to the forest you hadn’t searched, something tight and sickening settling in your stomach, like if you just pushed a little harder, went a little further, you’d find her.

“OK.”

The sun was high and you thought you’d been riding for a while but it was hard to know for sure. You were trying to focus on everything but you had been for more than a week, and you were worried you were missing things in the haze of fog that had over taken you. Joel kept looking back over his shoulder to you, like he was making sure you were still following him even though you knew there must be the sound of you behind him.

He looked back over his shoulder at you 13 more times - some part of you was keeping count, always aware of him - when you saw something off the trail and frowned.

You pulled Renaissance to a stop and dismounted, Joel doing a double take back at you when he realized you were no longer following him.

“Jesus, Bambi,” he brought Ares to a halt and got down, too, coming up alongside you. “Gotta tell me when you see something…”

“Sorry,” you said, not looking at him. Instead, you picked your way through the brush toward what had made you stop to begin with. It was a trap, a slender branch from a young tree pulled down toward the ground, rope pulled tight.

“Is that…” Joel frowned, so close you could feel him next to you. It didn’t bother you the way it had back in Jackson. It still sent a thrill of fear through you, making your muscles coil and tense, body preparing to defend yourself even though you knew you didn’t need to. But part of you found it oddly comforting, too. In some ways, it felt good to have him close.

“It’s a snare,” you said, kneeling beside it. You looked closer at the rope, the fibers turning green and fraying at the edges. You reached out, delicately tracing the curve of the branch with one finger. “I think it’s been here for a bit.”

Joel was silent for a moment.

“Do you think…”

“She makes these,” you said softly. “I showed her how to make a few snares, this is the one she uses the most.”

Joel knelt beside you and you looked at him. His face was soft and eyes warm, looking less pained than you’d seen him in weeks. He got closer to the pins that kept the snare ready to snap up whatever might trigger it.

“Think you’re right on the timing,” he said. “There’s some moss startin’ in down here, been here at least a month. Probably closer to two.”

“She wouldn’t have just left it here,” you said as Joel sat back from the trap. “She was good about that, she always got her traps, she remembered where she put them and she got them back. She wouldn’t have just left it here…”

“Is it OK if I take it down?” Joel’s voice was so gentle and soft, like he was holding a delicate thing with his words. “You can take a closer look at it, see if it really looks like hers…”

You just nodded, not sure if you’d be able to speak around the knot in your throat. Joel delicately released the snare and freed the pins, one from the rope and the other from the ground. He set them, almost reverently, in your open palm and set about untying the rope from the slender branch.

You held the pins tightly in your fist for a moment, as though you could absorb some part of Savvy through them if she’d held them like that once. When the wood felt as warm as your fingers and Joel was still beside you, holding the coil of rope, you opened your hand, picking up one of the pins and looking at it closely.

You’d been the one who showed Savvy how to carve these pins. You’d never been particularly good at woodworking, nothing like Joel with his even, guided knife strokes that shaped the material into something that seemed to have been held within the grain of it from the beginning, he just helped reveal it. Your daughter was better at it than you. Where your pins were always jagged and harsh, hers had an elegance and smoothness to them, precision in her cuts that you’d never been able to find on your own. You’d always wondered if she’d gotten that trait from her mother or her father, if Mark had been able to shape things and you just hadn’t known. Maybe he hadn’t even known.

The pins in your fingers were fine and almost smooth and your hand shook as you traced the arc of one.

“Bambi?” Joel said softly.

“These are hers,” you said, voice thick. “She… she is so good at making these, hers are always so precise and smooth and almost artistic and…”

He gently took one from you and you let him. He examined it, too, looking closely.

“I don’t know where she got it from,” you said, looking at him. “I never… I couldn’t teach her to do it that well, I taught her the basics but she is just good. Even when she makes them quick they’re just good and these are hers, Joel, I know they are.”

“What would make her abandon a trap?” He asked after a moment, looking back at you.

You thought for a second.

“Bad weather, maybe,” you said. “If… if she got hurt. If something drove her out of the area and she didn’t have time to collect everything or if she was too hurt to go back for it, that’s the only thing.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the pin.

“Joel,” your voice trembled. “Joel, what if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her, what…”

“We don’t know anything yet,” he said gently. “It could have been bad weather and she packed up quick. Or she saw a threat and left before it saw her, too.”

“We have to look around here,” you said. “Please, Joel, I know we’re heading back but we have to look, I can’t…”

“We’ll look,” he said. “We’ll look, it’s OK.”

You just nodded and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. You did it without thinking, it was just instinct. Joel was stable and warm and smelled like home and you needed that. You needed him. He was still for a moment before he put an arm around you, holding you gently.

“We will find her, baby,” he said gently. “It’s OK.”

The two of you looked for signs of her immediately around the snare but you weren’t that discouraged when you didn’t find any. It had been weeks, footprints in mud and the scars of missing bark from trees would be long gone.

“Which way would she go?” Joel asked, watching you.

You sighed, looking around. Your heart was beating like you were running from something and at a fork in the road, forced to make a life or death choice.

“There’s water, northeast of here I think, right?” You said, trying to orient yourself. “She knew to stick near where she could find water, I think she’d head that way.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Then that’s where we’ll go.”

He watched you closely for a moment. Your jaw was tight, whole being taut and tense. He slowly, cautiously, reached for you, giving you every opportunity to pull away from him. You didn’t. Instead, you let him pull your worn body against his, his arms wrapping around you, his lips brushing your hair. You put your arms around him, looping them up and over his back, fingers splaying wide and clutching him close for a moment.

“It’s OK Bambi,” he said. You could feel his voice in his chest. “It’s going to be OK.”

You took the lead again, every direction change and choice feeling bigger than any other you’d ever made. Every path not followed hurt, a chance that you were losing. You tried not to think about it but your mind kept getting stuck, as though if you concentrated hard enough you could pull yourself apart and the pieces could keep searching. It didn’t matter much if you couldn’t put it all back together again. If you found her, it was worth it. If you didn’t, what would be the point.

Dusk was on the horizon when you started looking for a place to stop for the night.

“What’s that?” Joel said after you’d started looking for a good place to rest as well as for signs of Savvy. “To the east a bit?”

You looked back at him to see where he meant and followed his eye line. There was a bright spot through the trees about a football field away. You frowned a little.

“Worth looking at,” you looked back toward Joel. He just nodded before nudging Ares toward the bright spot and you followed with Renaissance. When you went to overtake him, he held his hand out.

“Should stay behind me,” he said. “Just… in case.”

You frowned a little but nodded and fell in behind him, watching as he brought his rifle forward. Your grip on Renaissance tightened and she huffed, her ears twitching.

It was almost a let down when it was just a small clearing. For a moment, you thought it was just a quirk of the forest but you saw another spot just beyond that was brighter, too. You dismounted.

“Got the map?” You asked, tying Renaissance off on a nearby tree before working your way through the brush to the other bright spot. It was a clearing, too. “Looks like campsites.”

“Here,” Joel said as you came back over, Ares tied off near Renaissance, the map in his hand. “We’re toward the north end of the Shoshone National Forest. Or should be, anyway.” You nodded, looking at the map. It didn’t have things like camp grounds marked that you could see. “Thinkin’ we’re about here.”

He pointed to a spot on the map and you nodded again.

“Near water,” you said, looking back up at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’d be a good spot.”

“Let me just…” you looked out toward the other clearing. “I’ll be back.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you just went back toward the other site, crossing it this time and working your way through the brush to another site. There were five all told and you found the remains of a fire at the fourth one. You knelt beside the small fire pit, the ash pile tall enough that you could tell it was from more than just a day or two. Joel appeared beside you.

“Someone was here,” you said, nodding at it. “For a little while.”

Joel’s hand went to the middle of your back and you jumped a little at his touch before you relaxed into it.

“Could be,” he said, replying to the words you couldn’t say. You just nodded.

The two of you settled in for the night, finishing off the rabbit from the night before. You tried not to think about patrolling with Joel. How you’d sit near him and find comfort in his presence, how you wanted to do everything beside him. Part of you still lived in that feeling. The rest of you was still chained to a wall, begging for help but getting none.

Joel hummed quietly as he carved - some small figure that you were curious about but couldn’t bring yourself to ask after - as you stared at the fire, watching the crackle as the wood popped and sparks flew.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” You asked, arms looped around your knees, looking across the flames to him when you couldn’t take the silence and distance anymore.

Joel frowned, raising his eyes to yours.

“No. Why would I think you’re crazy?”

“For doing this,” you said. “Searching with no real idea of where to go, endless space to look, all for someone I don’t…”

Your voice broke and you looked back at the fire.

“No,” he said gently. “Not crazy. I’d do the same thing.”

“Is that why you’re helping me?” You asked, looking back at him.

He considered you for a moment, a brief flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Part of it,” he said eventually. “But, Sweetheart… I’d do anything for you. Lookin’ for your girl… that’s… there’s no question. I’m always going to want to help you, always going to want to take care of you. Doesn’t matter what it is but especially with this.”

You nodded and buried your face in your arms for a moment before you sighed.

“I’m scared I’m losing my mind,” you said before looking back at him again. “I don’t know if… If what I’m thinking and hoping and basing all this around is real or if it’s just… For a while, when I was with them, when I thought she was gone, I wanted to die. There just wasn’t a reason for any of it and everything just hurt all the time but I couldn’t do it. I just kept living and I resented it. But, after a while, it’s like I talked myself out of it. I convinced myself that she could be out there. Just enough that I could forget how much it hurt. And then I got out. But every time I saw something that made me think that it could be a sign of her… I think I’ve been moving toward this for a long time. Where I can’t be in limbo anymore and can’t just avoid it, where I need to know and… I don’t know how much of it is real and smart and how much of it is something just made out of the hurt and the fact that it seemed like it should have killed me but it didn’t. I don’t know how sane any of it is, Joel. I don’t. But I don’t know if I can survive without it and…”

You buried your face in your arms again, tears stinging your eyes.

“I understand, Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him, frowning a little. “I did a lot of that when… after Sarah died. I knew she was gone, there wasn’t a question of that. I felt it happen. But… I couldn’t live with it, either.”

You frowned a little, watching him closely.

“Tried to end it,” he said, sniffing once, his voice tight. “Next day. Put a gun to my head, figured it’d be quick. Didn’t work, obviously. Flinched.”

“Joel…”

“Spent a lot of years after that hidin’ from it,” he continued, turning his carving over in his hands. “Tried not to think about her. Regret that now. Who knows what I forgot because I was so busy trying to not hurt. Tommy never even said her name. We never talked about her. But it seemed like the best part of my day was the half a second after I woke up when I didn’t remember she was gone. Always felt like she was in the next room, that I’d need to make sure she was moving to get out the door on time for school… It took a long time before I found something else to live for. And it sure seems like she found me, not the other way around. Then we came to Jackson and I… I found you. With her and with you, seemed like there was a reason I flinched back then. Like part of me knew there was a reason to go on and I’d find it eventually.

“You’ve got that, too. Even if… even if it’s not me and even if it doesn’t seem like it. You have things to live for, baby. Promise you do. You may not even know what they are yet but you have ‘em. You just have to keep living, that’s all. Just keep survivin’. Please.”

You watched him through the flames for a moment before you got up and came around the flames to sit beside him, close but not so close that you were touching. He froze as you leaned over, slowly, to rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad it didn’t work,” you said quietly.

“Me, too,” he replied after a moment.

“I don’t know what I want right now,” you said, watching the fire. “But I know that I’m glad you exist. That I want you to be happy.”

You felt him turn ever so slightly, his lips and his nose brushing the top of your head.

“I’m here for you,” he said softly. “However you want me, I’ll do whatever you want. As long as you’re safe and happy, I’ll do whatever you want.”

He held his large hand out to you, a small carving of a deer in his fingers. You took it, turning its delicate body in the light.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” he said quietly. “All yours either way.”

***

You wanted to follow the river the next day. Joel was fine with that, especially since you picked the route that curved back toward Jackson. Or, at least, in that general direction. It was still a few days ride and he’d already made notes of where you’d found signs of Savvy to come back and check again if the two of you didn’t find her on this trip out.

You were more yourself than you had been in a long time. The two of you stopped for lunch and to give the horses a longer break and Joel started carving again, just to give himself something to do besides look at you. That hurt too much.

“Can you teach me?” You asked after a few minutes. He looked at you for a moment, surprised you were talking to him at all. It had been a quiet almost two weeks with you.

“Sure,” he said before you had a chance to take it back. “Want to come sit by me? Grab…” he looked around for a moment before finding a hunk of wood on the ground that looked like it would work. “That there?”

You nodded and moved to be next to him. Careful, he noticed, to not touch him but close enough that you could easily see his hands. He cleared his throat.

“Want to find the grain of the wood,” he said, watching as you turned the chunk of wood in your hands. “Want to work with it, go against it and it’ll split.”

“Makes sense,” you said. Fuck, you were so close to him.

“Start with a rough cuts, get the outline of what you want to make,” he said. “Knife in your dominant hand, wood in the other. Hold it real firm and cut away from your body in thin slices, don’t go too deep or it’ll fracture.”

You nodded and looked at the wood again, frowning down at it.

“What do you want to make?” He asked after you didn’t move to cut it.

“A moose, I think,” you said. “Just not sure where to start.”

He nodded slowly.

“Can I?” He asked, hand out. You shrugged and handed the wood over. He turned it in his hands for a moment, getting a feel for the shape of it, finding the grain. “Here,” he said, holding it close to you. “Back’ll probably be this part here…” He notched the blade against the wood and cut into it. “That’ll make this the neck.” He adjusted the knife and cut again. “Legs down here. You try that one.”

He handed the wood back and your fingers brushed his as you took it. He clenched his hand into a fist in his lap, squeezing some of the tension swelling in him out before releasing it.

“Here?” You asked, lining up your knife.

“Yeah,” Joel said. “But turn it a bit so you’re cuttin’ more away from yourself…” He helped you adjust and felt your skin on his again. You made the cut. “There ya go. Go back over the whole thing like that, shave off a bit more…”

You nodded and set to work and Joel tried to not watch you too obsessively. He didn’t want to push you away or make you uncomfortable but fuck you were so close and you weren’t mad at him. So much of what he remembered of how you felt in his arms had gotten mixed up in the night you’d left Jackson, how he clutched onto you while you screamed. He wasn’t sure you’d ever let him close again and now you were beside him because you chose it. He couldn’t ruin it. He went back to his own carving.

“Alright,” you said eventually, holding up the wood. “Think I’ve got it. Now what?”

He looked at it and nodded.

“Good job,” he said. “There are two other kinds of cuts you’ll use for the rest of it. One where you pull the knife toward yourself - most common one - and one where you push it. Pull is a lot like paring, you’re gonna brace the wood with your thumb and then pull your knife towards it.”He showed you on his carving and you leaned in close, nodding. “Keep your thumb back so you don’t get hurt, though.”

You nodded and positioned your hands like his before pressing into the wood. The first cut was jagged but the beginning of the technique was there. And you didn’t cut your thumb, so it was enough for him to call it a success.

“Good,” he said and you looked up at him, smiling a little.

He showed you how to do the push stroke, too, and the two of you sat in near silence for a bit, working at your carvings. Joel kept glancing your way, trying to not look too long so he didn’t distract you but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it. He was close to you, close enough that your elbow brushed against him now and then and he could hear you breathing, with a reason to look at you. He’d have been happy to stay like that for hours, with birds singing and you breathing, like nothing bad had ever happened to either of you at all.

You’d made good progress when you cursed and hissed, dropping the wood and bringing your hand to your mouth.

“Cut your thumb?” He asked, setting his carving and knife down. You nodded, thumb between your lips. He held out his hand. “Lemme see.”

“Uh uh,” you muttered as you sucked on your injured finger.

“C’mon, Bambi,” he smiled a little. “Happens to everyone, especially when you’re learnin’. Lemme see it.”

You looked at him with those wide eyes of yours like you were half expecting him to judge you for your slip. But you sighed and pulled your thumb from your mouth and thrust your hand at him. He took it gently, yours so much smaller than his own that it seemed delicate even with the callus from guitar and riding on your fingertips and palms. The cut on your thumb started beading with blood before he had a chance to look at it and he frowned for a second before raising your hand to his mouth, putting your small hurt between his lips and pulling the salt and copper of you into him. Your breath hitched and Joel felt you stiffen beside him and it was only then that he realized what he’d done without thinking, the casual intimacy of caring for your body with his own. There was still a part of him that couldn’t accept the separation from you. It felt like an unnatural thing, you existing so separate from him that you could be hurting next to him and he was supposed to ignore it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He pulled your hand carefully from his mouth.

“Sorry,” he said, voice gruff, as he delicately examined the cut. It was deeper than he’d hoped but not to the bone. “S’not too bad, lemme just…” He released your hand and went into his bag, pulling out a scrap of fabric he had just for this kind of injury. He took your hand back and poured a little water over the cut before he wrapped it tightly, knotting the cotton around your thumb. “Keep that elevated for a minute, should stop bleeding before too long. When it does, we’ll get going.”

You nodded and Joel picked up your carving from where you’d dropped it. The moose was starting to take shape, though its form was jagged and rough. But the ruggedness suited it, something powerful not easily contained by the wood. Your blood stained the side of its chest, near where its heart would be. Joel tried to wipe it away but some had already seeped in, a red splotch on its chest.

“I ruined him,” you said, sounding a little sad. Joel glanced over at you, your eyes focused on the small creature in his palm, lips turned into a small frown.

“Think he’ll be alright, Bambi,” Joel smiled a little. “Besides, he only exists because of you. Don’t think you can ruin him.”

After a moment, Joel took your bleeding hand back and checked the bandage. It looked to be holding.

“We should go,” you said, a little breathless, watching him.

“Yes,” a voice from behind the two of you said. “You really should.”

Joel jumped to his feet and drew his gun, aiming it at a group of five men who - while he was distracted by you and your proximity and your blood - had managed to sneak up on him. He cursed himself silently as he glanced quickly to where you’d been. You were on your feet, too, gun drawn and held in front of you. He adjusted so he was between you and them.

“Not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel said. “Just passing through. Appreciate it if you’d let us.”

“Not too fond of folks passing through,” one of the men stepped forward, lowering his gun just a bit. The other four kept their weapons trained on Joel. He wasn’t in a good position to take out a group like this. He wished he had his rifle instead of his handgun but the rifle was strapped to Ares and he was tied to a tree a good 20 feet away. He ground his teeth. “Because it never seems like they’re just passing through.”

Joel stepped back until he felt you at his back and he breathed a little easier. He just needed to keep you in one piece, that’s all.

“Well, we are,” Joel said. “Looking for someone, think she might have come through here. Once we look for her, we’ll be on our way.”

“No one out here but us,” the man said. “Took this territory few months back and believe me, we’re not about to let anyone just take what’s ours.”

“She wouldn’t steal from you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Joel.

“Bambi,” he hissed but you ignored him.

“She’s a teenager,” you said. “Brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She set up a snare about a day’s ride from here so she was probably around for a while…”

“Told you,” the man said. “Don’t let people take what’s ours. This is our territory, don’t let just anybody hunt on it. We got folks to look after, can’t have just anyone taking animals on our land. Including you. So you can come with us or we can handle this here.”

Joel glanced at you, trying to do the calculus of what was the best move. Did he risk taking a hand off his weapon to throw you behind him? Did he start shooting and move himself in front of you? Did he try to talk these idiots down?

“We haven’t hunted in days,” you bit out before Joel had a chance to decide. “Haven’t taken anything of yours, just want to keep looking…”

“See, now, don’t think I can believe that,” the man said. Joel clenched his jaw. “Sure as shit can’t trust you to just stay in our territory…”

“We’ll leave,” Joel said, catching a glimpse of your head whipping around to stare him down. “Already heading back toward ours…”

One of the the four men toward the back took a step closer to you and Joel reacted before he really thought about it. It was instinctual. There was a threat to you and he took that threat down, the gunshot cracking through the air as the man dropped to the earth.

Everything happened quickly then. There was a split second of near silence, the echo of the bullet hanging heavy over the shocked silence of the surrounding forest, and the shooting began.

Joel moved for you as one of your bullets hit one of the men. Joel threw you behind a tree and kept shooting as the other men scrambled for cover.

“Three left,” you said, scrambling to reload before looking up at Joel, panting for breath. “Should leave at least one alive, question him.”

Joel nodded, gun low. A chunk of tree trunk exploded near his head and he flinched.

“I’m gonna draw their fire…”

“No,” you shook your head, cutting him off. “No, you can’t…”

“You cover me,” he said, ignoring you. “They’re gonna expose themselves to take a shot, take ‘em down then. Stay back. Something happens to me, get out of here, OK?”

“Joel,” you said, voice sharp and eyes wide, but he pressed on. There was the sharp crack of another bullet hitting the tree.

“You need to stay alive for her, OK?” He said. “Understand? You’re the only one who knows she’s missing and how to find her so you stay alive for her.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead he looked back over his shoulder and around the tree, as much as he dared to catch a glimpse of their positions before looking back at you.

“I’m going on three, OK baby?” He looked in your eyes for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time and took a deep breath. He wanted to touch you, promise you it was all going to be OK, but kept his hands on his gun. “I love you. No matter what.”

He counted down before you had a chance to say anything back and ran for a tree that would give him cover while also giving him a chance to get closer to the last of the men. A bullet passed so close to him he felt it on the air and you started shooting almost immediately, your second shot hitting one of the men in the chest. Joel kept shooting and so did you, but he was pretty sure it was his shot that felled the next man, just as he reached the other tree. That left one who was alive. He reloaded and looked over to you from his new position, your chest heaving but face set firm. He jerked his head back, hoping you’d understand what he wanted you to do. You nodded once. He held up three fingers and you nodded again. He counted down and you both moved. He tracked you with his eyes for a moment, thankful you got what he’d been trying to communicate with you. You moved quickly but delicately around the edge of the trees, going to loop around the back side of where the men were hiding. Joel went the other way. With any luck, he’d meet you in the middle by the final man.

“You two sure cause a lot of trouble for folks just passin’ through,” the first man called. Joel was quiet. That meant he probably hadn’t seen the two of you start to move. “Should understand why we kill everyone who comes through. Probably killed that girl you’re after. If she was around here few months back we did.” Joel clenched his jaw. He was getting close to the man’s position, having to move slowly to not make a sound. “Cleared the land when we took over, folks could join up or they got handled. If she’s anything like you two, she got handled.”

Joel barely had a chance to hope you didn’t take the bait when you roared, the sound sharp and harsh. He moved quickly then, just in time to see you knock the man’s gun out of his hand as he got a shot off. It grazed your arm but you didn’t seem to notice. You tackled him but couldn’t leverage yourself to stay on top fast enough and he slammed you into the ground with a sickening thud. You were still as he scrambled to his feet and brought his foot down, hard, on your arm. Joel heard it snap half a second before you screamed and he finally - finally - reached the man, looping an arm around his throat and pulling him back, pressing the gun to his temple.

“That was a fuckin’ mistake,” he growled. The man clawed uselessly at Joel’s arm. “If you’re smart, you’ll cooperate. If you ain’t, that’s OK too. Don’t mind forcing you.”

Joel looked down toward you, tears in your eyes as you lay flat on your back, pupils blown.

“You still with me, baby?” He asked, resisting the urge to snap the man’s neck. You nodded and blinked tears from your eyes. “Good. Stay put, just a minute, OK?”

Joel wrenched the man around and shoved him to the ground before pressing him back against a tree. He flinched back for a moment and Joel almost smiled at him. He was afraid. Afraid was good.

“Gonna ask you just a few questions,” Joel said, gun still pressed to the man’s chest. “And you can tell me what I want to know or I can hurt you. Either way, I get what I want. Don’t matter much to me which way it goes.”

“Sure we can work something out,” the man said, his eyes darting and wide. “We’ve got a good crew, we’re setting up something permanent, could use someone with your skills…”

“Don’t need a place,” Joel cut him off. “Especially not with someone who would kill a kid. That what you did? You kill a kid?”

“Look…” he said but Joel turned the gun down and pressed it to the man’s thigh, pulling the trigger. The shot was nearly deafening and the spray of blood was hot as the man screamed, his hands flying to his mangled leg, his torso arching over his injured limb. Joel calmly wiped the man’s blood off his gun using some denim that had missed the splatter before he holstered it. He pulled out his knife and opened it before pressing his knee into the shin of the man’s injured leg. He screamed again and Joel held up the knife.

“Got plenty of places I can put this, too,” he said, voice calm. “So answer the question. Did you kill a kid?”

“I’m sorry,” he slumped back against the tree, his hands clutching around his injured thigh, as though that would hold him together. “We… we killed a lot of people when we moved in here, there were people all through this area but they… they weren’t organized, just nomads. They were a threat, we’ve been running from another group, made it far enough from where they mark their territory, needed to stake a claim before we lost that, too. We offered… anyone we found we offered a place but if they didn’t hold up their end or if they turned it down we killed ‘em, couldn’t let ‘em live, they knew too much, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Still haven’t answered the question,” Joel said. “Did you kill a kid?”

“My kid,” you said, voice closer than Joel had expected it. He glanced back to you and you were standing just behind him, cradling your arm to your chest. “She’s 14, brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She was out here about two months ago. Seen anyone like that?”

Joel tried to not picture Sarah trying to navigate the wilderness alone.

“No,” the man shook his head quickly. “No, I haven’t I swear I haven’t, not back at the settlement, not out here, I haven’t, I promise! I promise.”

“Any of your buddies mention someone like that?” Joel asked, knife still in hand. “Any of your buddies take a liking to teenaged girls?”

“What?” He frowned. Joel sighed and thrust the knife into the man’s good leg at the knee. He screamed, shooting forward in pain. Joel waited for the choking sobs to turn to whimpers.

“Asked if your buddies might have mentioned her,” he said. “Or if any of ‘em like teenaged girls. Think you know what I’m askin’.”

The man panted and looked up at you, as though you’d help him. Joel grabbed the man’s chin, yanking his gaze back to him.

“Not at her,” he said. “You’re with me. Answer the question or I’m gonna make things a whole lot worse for you. Any of your buddies mention a girl like her? Any of them have a habit of taking up with girls?”

“No,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “No, none of them mentioned her but…”

Joel was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, he gripped the knife, adding just enough pressure that the man yelped and started panting for breath.

“But?” Joel asked.

“But they wouldn’t have mentioned her!” He cried out, opening his eyes to look up at you again. “We didn’t talk about who we took out, there were a few dozen and… I’m sorry, if she was here… if she was here when we came through…”

Joel pulled the knife out before he could finish the statement. You didn’t need to hear that.

“Where’s your settlement?” Joel asked, wiping the blood on a clean spot on the man’s shirt before pressing the point to the man’s throat, just enough that he’d feel the sharp of it.

“Northeast!” He said. “Northeast, just south of the road going into Cody, about 20 miles west of the town. We… we’ve claimed through here all the way about five miles south as ours, we’ve got about 250 folks up that way…”

Joel nodded and closed the knife before standing. He looked over at you, at the cold and detached look in your eyes.

“Bambi,” he said gently, but you ignored him.

Instead, you pulled out your gun and aimed it at the man’s head. He barely had a chance to raise his hands, didn’t have a chance to beg for his life, before you shot him point blank, his blood splattering your good hand as your broken arm hung, limp and misshapen, at your side. The man’s body slumped over and you screamed at it, the sound seeming like it was ripping up from the center of you. You screamed until you were out of breath and you stood there, standing over the man’s broken form, the gun dangling from your fist, tears in your eyes.

Joel wordlessly went to one of the other men, one he’d shot in the head. The blood splatter on his shirt was minimal. He pulled it off the corpse and brought it over to you.

“Give me your arm,” he said gently. You didn’t seem to hear him. He gingerly took the elbow of your broken arm and you jumped, looking at him like you were surprised he was there. “Here, it’s OK sweetheart.”

He tucked your arm into the soft flannel before he tied the sleeves of the shirt together and draped it around your neck. He went to your other arm, the one that had been grazed by the gunshot and looked at you for a moment, a silent request for permission. You gave him a single nod before he poured water over the wound, cleaning it as best he could. It didn’t look too bad, at least. It would leave a scar but the damage shouldn’t be anything more than that. He got a bandage from his pack and wrapped it around your bicep before tying it off.

“Bambi,” he said again, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

“We should move,” you said, your voice flat. “Sure that drew plenty of attention.”

You stalked back over to where the horses had been tethered - thankfully safe from the gunfire - and stopped to pick up the carving and your knife from the ground. Joel followed behind you and watched as you carefully packed the half-formed moose away before tucking the folded knife into your pocket. He went to help you up onto Renaissance but you brushed him off.

“Broken bones before,” you snapped. You tried to glare at him but your eyes were so empty. “Know how to get on a horse with one, I’m not useless.”

“OK,” he said softly. “I’m here if you need.”

You mounted up fine - not that he should have been surprised - and Joel got on Ares, both horses surprisingly serene given the gunfight that had happened not far from them only 20 minutes earlier. But Joel knew you’d worked to desensitize them to the sound of guns. You’d made them all but warhorses, sturdy enough to withstand anything the apocalypse would throw at them. It had served the two of you well.

“They said northeast, right?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“Bambi…”

“If they killed her, I’m killing them,” you said. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t know that they did,” he said, bringing his horse alongside yours.

You stared him down.

“Sounds like they killed enough to deserve it either way.”

“Maybe so,” Joel said carefully. He tried to imagine how someone would need to talk him down from killing everyone who’d planned to kill Ellie. If someone would have even been able to stop him from killing every person in that goddamn hospital. “But you’re hurt…”

“Joel.”

“We’re low on ammo. Goin’ now will just get you killed and…”

“So?” You yelled. “Do you think I care? You think it matters if…”

“It matters!” He yelled back, his chest tight. He fought to stay in the present, stay with you here in the wild and not in a field outside Austin as he felt his daughter die and not on the floor of a broken house with your cold, barely breathing body pressed against him. “It matters to me and it matters to Ellie and, goddammit, it matters to your daughter! You don’t know, Bambi, you can’t know if she’s gone. But you’re the only one who knows how to look for her and I’m not going to let you throw that away, I’m not. I am not takin’ you there and we both know that, without one arm, you ain’t gettin’ far without me. We’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

You stared him down for a moment, a shadow of rage in your eyes before that died, too. He made you take the lead so he could keep a proper eye on you and the two of you made decent progress before stopping for the night, Joel hunting on the way so he wasn’t going to leave you unattended. He took your weapons when you did. You glared at him but handed over your side arm.

“Knife, too,” he said, his hand out.

“Fuck you.”

He didn’t take the bait. He just kept his hand out. After a moment, you wrenched it out of your pocket and smacked it into his waiting palm.

“Thank you.”

You kept your distance from him that evening, just staring blankly into the fire and cradling your broken arm.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Bambi,” he said as you set up to sleep and he got set to keep watch. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

It took days to reach Jackson, your arm discolored and pain the only thing visible in your eyes when you got there. Joel brought you straight to the clinic and walked you inside, still not willing to let you out of his sight. He couldn’t hold your body. Not yours, too.

He took the horses to the stables, giving a confused Renaissance an extra apple as she chuffed, looking for you.

“Gettin’ her taken care of, too,” he said gently stroking her neck. She bobbed her large head. “She’ll… she’ll get there. It’s OK.”

He went back to the clinic after and sat on the steps outside, waiting for you to come out, hoping he wouldn’t see Ellie until he went home for the night. He wanted to see her, hug her, but he wasn’t sure if you could handle it. And he didn’t want to try to explain everything to her, at least not everything about you.

Joel wasn’t sure how long he sat there waiting when the door behind him opened with a creak and he turned to see you standing at the top of the steps, your arm in a proper cast with more than a makeshift sling this time.

“You’re still here,” you said, your voice flat.

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he replied.

“What, haven’t had enough of me over the last few weeks?” You asked. It seemed like you’d meant to put your usual bite behind the words but they were just hollow.

“No,” he replied. “No such thing as enough of you.”

He carried your pack for you, walking alongside you on your slow path home.

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

You shrugged.

“Took some doing to get my arm set. Had worse.”

Joel nodded.

“And how are you feeling… outside that.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded again, making his way to the front gate of your home. You opened it and didn’t stop him from coming up the walk so he followed you to your door. You stopped there, holding out your good arm for your bag.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, looking at his chest instead of really at him.

“Course,” he said. You went to open your door but he stopped you, a large hand cupped gently around the elbow of your intact arm. “Bambi…”

You looked at him with those wide eyes. He sighed.

“I don’t know if it’s right, leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be OK,” you shrugged. “Not your job to worry about me.”

“I want to worry about you.”

You sighed.

“Joel…”

“I do,” he said. “Doesn’t matter what you do or say, I do. And I’m going to.”

You looked at him.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to spend time together right now,” you said.

He tried to not let the hurt show, the feeling of a knife twisting in his gut.

“You want something different than me,” you continued. “And I just… I can’t. Not right now. And I don’t think us spending time together is smart.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“I can wait.”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, chin jutting out defiantly. The knife twisted again. “You should move on. It’s for the best.”

“And what are you gonna do?” He asked.

You sighed and looked back out at the street. There were birds in the distance and the wind blew in the smell of apple blossoms from the orchard just outside the walls. It would be idyllic if his heart wasn’t cracking open and bleeding on your porch.

“Survive, I guess.”

“Bambi,” you looked back at him. “Meant what I said out there. You can’t give up, OK? You have to find something to fight for. You can. I know you can. And we don’t know if what they said was true, we can’t know. We can keep looking. Once you’re healed, we’ll find another window, we’ll search. She got out of there in a hurry, she probably just…”

“Right,” you said. It didn’t sound like you believed it.

“Promise me,” he said.

You frowned.

“Promise you what?”

“That if I leave you here you won’t do what I did,” he said. “That you’ll be stronger than me and live with it. That if you need someone you’ll come to me and you won’t try to do it alone. Because I meant it, all of it. May not be the same for you anymore but that’s OK. Think I can love you enough for the both of us, just come to me when you need it, please. Need you to promise me, sweetheart. Please.”

“Joel…”

“Promise me.”

Your eyes met his and, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a shadow of the spark of you there. That you were there, buried deep in grief and pain and betrayal.

You took a deep breath.

“I promise.”

Joel slowly, cautiously, raised a hand to cup your cheek. You didn’t stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, your lips parting like you were going to kiss him. But you didn’t and he didn’t try to take it. Instead, he tilted your head and nuzzled against your forehead for a moment before kissing you there, pressing his lips against your skin, breathing in the smell of your hair. He lingered against you as long as he could before he stepped back, taking a moment to memorize you.

You took a deep breath.

“Goodbye, Joel.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Goodbye, Bambi.”

Next Chapter

A/N: I am so so sorry for the wait on this and for the fact that it's a bit of a monster chapter. It got away from me, I admit. I'm trying to get back into the swing of my regular writing cadence now that the holidays are through and I so appreciate you being here and your patience ❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

Note

You know how Spiderman has 'canon events'? And how Gwen would always die? How about in every universe Duke exists in, there would always be Danny. And every time they fall in love! But whenever Duke tells/hints at him being The Signal, Danny suffers an accident or dies.

Like let's say in the DC vs Vampires universe, Duke tells Danny he's Signal and then a few days later he gets turned into a vampire and Duke has no choice but to kill him.

Or something like that yknow?

Earth 26.

The undercity is full of life. People from above refuse to understand it, staunch in their beliefs that the undercity is full of crime and sickness, drugs and filth. But the people down there are more human than any of the ones Duke has met up top.

Though Bruce Wayne can try to bring Duke in all he likes, there’s no denying that Duke doesn’t belong. His heart will always be in the undercity, where he was born and grew up and lived and lost so much.

The undercity is where Danny is.

Away from the blue skies filled with blimps, tucked beneath the towering buildings and clocktowers and elevated rails for trains leaving trails of smoke through the city, there in the cramped spaces and dark alleys, is Danny.

He ducks through familiar alleys, cutting across perilously stacked homes and hopping over railings to get to the Fenton Lab faster.

He’s been excited all day, heart thrumming with anticipation, as he returns to his roots and seeks out Danny. Today is the day he’s going to come clean, tell Danny everything: his feelings, his powers, his identity as The Signal, fighting crime in all parts of the city to keep Gotham safe. He’s sure Danny suspects something is going on with him, likely has already guessed at everything he wants to talk about, but Danny deserves the truth.

It is his inventions that help Duke save people, after all.

Finding the front door of the Fenton lab is always a challenge. Metal scraps and materials stripped from vehicles litter the front of the building from people leaving all their unwanted things with the Fentons. Miscellaneous inventions and tools are left scattered around as well, creating a labyrinth that Duke has to traverse every time he wants to see Danny while he’s working with his parents.

It takes a few minutes, but Duke manages it, pushing open the door after a quick knock.

“Danny? Are you there?”

He can hear something from the lower floor, a strange, high pitched whirring noise. His powers kick in and suddenly he can see people rushing around the room, shouting in voices that he won’t be able to hear until the time comes. He can see himself, crying.

Duke’s heart drops.

“Danny? Danny!”

He runs down the stairs, suddenly terrified that he’s too late. Something is going to happen to Danny. It has to be Danny, because no one else is home with him; that’s why Duke asked to meet in the Lab, to have some privacy while the other Fentons were out.

The noise is louder, too loud to hear over, and Duke rushes into the Lab just in time to see some strange circle of metal spark with electricity. Danny stands right before, staring up at it.

“Danny!” Duke shouts as loud as he can, and Danny startles, then turns around.

Their eyes meet just as the machine finishes turning on, the metal circle ripping open with a thunderous noise, and Duke can do nothing but watch as it sends electricity and some other energy racing through Danny’s body.

It lasts just a brief moment, and then Danny is crumpling to the ground, eyes closed as the machine settles. The swirling pit of white and green stares out at him and Duke knows without a doubt that Danny is dead. . . .

Earth 41.

Duke’s been acting strange. Well, stranger than usual.

Danny’s not one to go around poking at people’s secrets, especially not his boyfriend’s, but he knows something big is going on. He’s not worried that Duke is cheating on him, but he can see the injuries he comes back with some days, citing all the unrest and the resurgence in crimes following Batman’s death.

He wonders if Duke is going out each night for street fighting, forcing all his emotions into his fists until they’re beaten bloody. Batman’s death hit him hard, and Danny has no idea what to do to help him.

They’re both stressed, on edge and scared, but they don’t fight as much as he expected. Admittedly, it’s hard to fight where they’re always spending time apart.

No longer. Tonight, Danny is determined to get to the bottom of things so he can help Duke with whatever he’s going through. He even texted Jazz to get some tips about communication and helping someone through grief. He’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

Right at 3AM, the window slides open.

“Welcome back, Duke,” Danny says, watching as Duke flinches, then sighs as he closes the window.

“What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Well, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, I decided to hang out here and wait for you. But you’ve been gone for a long time.”

“Sorry, Danny, but I’m really tired. Can this wait?”

Anger bubbles in his gut and Danny takes a deep breath to force it down. “I’ve been waiting. If you keep pushing this conversation off, we’re never going to get anywhere.”

Duke slumps against the window, rubbing a hand against his face, looking exhausted. “Look, Danny, things have been getting real bad, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of it.”

“What’s going on, Duke? What are you so worried about?”

“It’s… The guy who killed Batman. His name is Karma, and I’ve been going after him.”

“You’ve been what?!” Danny shouts, shooting to his feet. “Duke, are you insane? Anyone who can kill Batman is bad news, there’s no way anyone short of like, Superman, can stop him! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Someone has to stop him! And I can do something to help, okay? I’ve been helping the other bats fight him. I can do this.”

Danny clenches his fists, feeling frost crack against his skin. “You could have told me,” he says. “You know I can help, too. You’re not the only one with powers.”

“I can’t endanger you like that, Danny.”

“So you leave me in the dark instead? You would have rather I wait for you forever while you never come back because you got yourself killed running into a situation you can’t get out of? You think I would have been any safer not knowing? Then clearly you haven’t been paying attention!” He’s shouting by the end of it, shaking with fear and rage and so many things it all becomes a tangled mess in his head.

“I really think we should have this conversation in the morning,” Duke says, eyeing Danny warily. It’s probably just because he’s been out all night hunting Karma, so used to being attacked while he goes out to try to save a city that even Batman couldn’t lift from the darkness, but that doesn’t stop the stab of hurt from going through his heart. Danny has done his best to be safe for Duke, to be human and comforting and strong enough to protect him.

And Duke is looking at him like he could be at threat.

“Whatever,” Danny mutters, shaking his head. “You’ll talk to me in the morning by saying nothing but how you need to do whatever this is and then you’ll leave and we’ll both be unhappy. Great. Can’t wait.”

“Danny—”

“Bye, Duke.”

Danny’s up and out of the apartment before Duke can take more than a few steps towards him. He zips up his jacket and pulls the hood over his head, taking the steps two at a time to get to street level. It’s dark and quiet outside, save for the distant police sirens, and Danny barely spares a glance around him before he’s making his own way home, sure that no one would still be out at that time.

He should have been more careful. More vigilant. Not so lost in his hurt feelings.

But there’s no time for that when he’s pulled into an alleyway, knife at his throat.

A man in a black helmet, face fully covered, stares down at him. “Well, well, well,” he purrs, digging the knife in a little deeper, “What’s the Signal’s little lover doing out so late at night?”

Signal?

…Duke. His boyfriend who always disappears in late hours, blows off dates when something big is going down in Gotham, who is trying to pick up the pieces following Batman’s death.

And here is Karma, the very man Duke is searching for, pulling Danny away into the dark.

He only has a brief moment to regret storming off, for not being more patient with Duke, for not paying attention and avoiding Karma, before the knife is pulled away, tossed into the air, and the hilt comes down hard on his temple, and it is a long, long time before he is seen again.

The Signal does not find him alive. . . .

Earth 53.

The apocalypse isn’t kind even on the best of days. But today it might be coming close to something resembling kindness as Duke approaches the skeletal remains of Gotham. It’s been years since he’s been back here, moving with the Robins across the United States just trying to survive. They’d constantly been moving, searching for other survivors and food and shelter and any sign of hope they could get.

There hadn’t been much anywhere, too much devastation across the country for anyone to even think of rebuilding. Even now, nature is just starting to recover, little green shoots pushing up through concrete rubble.

This world isn’t one for superheroes anymore. Supervillains aren’t around either. Everyone is either dead or barely getting themselves through each day; but humanity is still around and wildlife is beginning to recover.

Duke doesn’t know who’s left in Gotham these days. He suspects Oracle is still there, somewhere, helping reconnect telephone wires and setting up internet and electricity. Lights have been flickering on steadily as the Robins made their way into New Jersey and the sight lifted their spirits so much they decided to keep traveling through the night.

No one in his group has a working phone any more, but the possibility of getting that piece of the old world back excites them all.

By the time they reach the outskirts of the ruined city, the entire group is nearly buzzing with energy, speaking in hushes whispers that do nothing to hide the elation in their voices. Gotham was everyone’s home, once. They’re all happy to be back, regardless of what they’re walking into.

Duke volunteers to go scouting with a few others to find a good place to settle in for a bit as they reacquaint themselves with the city. Even before the end of the world, it was never a good idea to go blind into Gotham.

Much of the city is still abandoned, and concrete rubble carry faded graffiti that show the remains of a gang long gone. The few people he see in the distance are quick to hide and disappear and Duke himself is too wary to approach them. But as he gets closer to the heart of Gotham, picking his way through destroyed streets, he sees more and more signs of life, people who don’t hide, weak lights in hastily constructed shelters.

No one attacks him as he wanders closer. In fact, a few exchange nervous glances then approach him, quietly asking if he’s coming from outside Gotham and what news he brings of the outside world.

Duke tells them about how Chicago is gone completely, unable to be saved at all, but there are settlements all along the shores of the Great Lakes. He tells them of the traveling groups he’s met who rotate through a few chosen states and are willing to take in new members. He tells them of someone who has an entire farm up and running again, full of chickens and cows and sheep and goat and horses, on top of all the crop they can grow. The location of the farm is kept secret and carefully protected, but they give away seeds and young animals for anyone wanting to raise their own.

The news gathers more and more people around Duke, eager to listen, and they’re more than happy to update Duke on what’s happened in Gotham.

The Bats aren’t around as much anymore, but at least two of them are still in Gotham, helping people from the shadows. They’re fixing everything up as best they can, and most people live in or around Robinson Park where Ivy, who survived, grows food and shelter for everyone in exchange for protection and companionship. The Riddler turned from making death traps and taking hostages to creating new technology and inventions to make life a little easier, taking in a crew of assistants to learn from him.

That is to say nothing of the ghosts.

Gotham is full of them now, walking among the living as if they never died. They help people and stick with loved ones who lost them and fly through the air to deliver things with ease. It’s nothing that Duke has ever seen before, and he wonders how many people who died in the apocalypse chose to stay in such a ruined world.

He begins to head back to the Robins, mind racing with everything he’s learned, when he sees Danny.

Danny, his friend once, who he loved dearly and didn’t quite realize it was deeper than friendship until after the world ended. Danny, who was always sleepy and soft and smiling, cracking bad jokes and lifting Duke’s spirits whenever he felt down. Danny, who was lively and dreamed of going to space to sit among the stars.

Danny, who is dead.

He never got the chance to tell Danny he was the Signal, but he thinks Danny knew anyways. He could ask now, put that lingering thought to rest, but it was one of the few things left unsaid between them, the only thing he had of Danny for all these years, and he doesn’t want to let go of it yet.

Danny hasn’t seen him yet. Duke could go to him, speak to his ghost, have some part of him back in his life.

But it wouldn’t be the same. It certainly wouldn’t be fair to tie Danny, who is free from the pain and misery of the living, to Duke, who is never going to stay in Gotham permanently.

He misses Danny so much he feels hollowed out and empty, but he knows this is for the best.

Duke turns, pretending not to see him, and walks away. . . .

Earth 78.

Duke was…

Duke was important to him, Danny thinks. He can’t remember much, not after everything (electricity, screaming, pain pain pain, heavy darkness, a spark, hist chest cut open, where is ___? Why won’t he save—) but without any memory of what his life was like back then, his feelings are without context and easily ignored.

Wraith follows Shrike from a distance, watching as he drops into an alley to kill a rapist. Wraith feels nothing about this, for caring is not in his duties. He is instructed to simply keep Shrike alive and assist in his plans, whatever they may be. Wraith does not care about killing.

Danny, tucked away deep inside the mask, shivers and cries, wishing to hide away and say enough, please, that’s enough, just stop please stop stop stop stop—

Batman crosses the rooftops, a figure of darkness across the city’s skies. The Signal, his second oldest companion, travels through the shadows by his side until they land on the building Wraith stands on.

The yellow of Signal’s armor is familiar and it feels safe but Wraith knows better. Talia and Ra’s have taught him to see past his emotions, to force away any sentiment and grapple with the cold hard truth. This is the truth: they are here to hurt him and Shrike, because they are dangerous killers and dangerous killers are dealt with swiftly and painfully in Gotham.

They can do as they please to him. They will not take Shrike.

He engages Batman in battle first, easily slipping past his defense by going intangible, freezing his boots to the ground and icing his fists together. The Signal slips away at first, leaving Batman behind to try to get around Wraith, sending shadows towards Shrike who leaps away deftly, dodging them with ease as he leaves the beheaded body behind.

Wraith grabs Signal before he can fully sink into a shadow and tosses him back, then flies to Shrike, picking him up and getting them away as quickly as possible.

“They found us faster than I thought,” Shrike says. His voice carries something in it that Wraith doesn’t recognize, but it makes his heart feel heavy.

“We’re done for the night,” Wraith returns, voice low and hoarse. He died screaming and even the Lazarus Pits weren’t able to fix the damage done to his vocal chords.

He lets his invisibility wash over them both, and they disappear into the night. The safehouse they set up, far away from the one Talia prepared for them, is small but comfortable. It’s secure, everything created and coded by Tim, which means Danny can relax inside the walls of the small apartment.

Shrike helps him shed his gear, putting it away carefully. Wraith becomes Danny and he watches as Shrike becomes Tim.

Gone is the ruthless efficiency, the quickness to cut down the scum of Gotham without remorse. Instead, he’s pale and tired, eyes still a faint green from the linger remains of the Lazarus Pit that brought him back from the dead, but there is no madness in him. Only a coldness that came long before his death, unwanted by Damian, the first of Batman’s vigilante partners, who refused to see him as part of the family or even as a hero at all. Duke had already gone to work with other teams since then and never met Tim properly for more than a few minutes.

But he knew Danny. They must have been close. If seeing The Signal sends such a sharp stab of pain in his heart, it must be for a reason. But the memories are long gone, and with them, any desire to be close to him again.

They never do well after a run in with the Bats. Though they have won every fight they’ve had, Tim often retreats to bed in order to hide his tears and Danny is left alone, lost, and wishing he had stayed dead.

Tonight is no different. Tim is making a difference as Shrike, striking fear in the hearts of Gotham’s criminals. Crime has gone down in Crime Alley, his chosen territory of the city, killing as many people as needed before they finally get the message to be better people. Tim is also still only eighteen and had spent three years with the League of Assassins before returning to Gotham and seeing that his place in the Bats is erased and forgotten and replaced by the well-loved Jason.

He only stays in Gotham to kill the people who sold him off to the Joker and laughed as he died slowly and painfully. Once the Joker is dead, he’ll leave Gotham and disappear for good.

Danny will follow him. He has no life now and no other direction. And with Tim hiding under the covers, Danny can do nothing but feel his own skin crawl at the need to get away from everything that connects him to his life Before.

It’s a terrible idea, but he goes out again, heading into Otisberg, where he once lived. Only a raised hood conceals his face; the expressionless mask he usually wears is gone, and Wraith feels far away from him.

He hears the Signal land behind him some time later. It could be minutes or hours; time slips by Danny easily these days no matter how hard he tries to hold onto the minutes passing by.

“Wraith,” Signal says, and his voice is hard. “Where’s Shrike? Out terrorizing the rest of Gotham?”

Danny doesn’t reply. He stares out into the city lights, a cold emptiness growing inside his chest.

“Well, if you’re going to just sit there, then I suppose you don’t mind if I take you in to let Batman interrogate you. You’ve been causing a lot of trouble around here, and we don’t take kindly to murderous masks in Gotham.”

He doesn't resist as Signal grabs his wrists, hauling him up from where he was sitting on the ledge. Danny allows Signal to turn him around, shadows binding his wrists together and pulling down his hood.

The Signal sucks in a sharp breath, hands falling limp to his side. “Danny?”

Danny doesn’t respond.

“This better not be a joke, I swear to God. If you’re just wearing his face to fuck with me, I’m going to kill you, Batman’s rules be damned. Say something already!”

Danny looks up into the visor of Signal’s helmet. He opens his mouth and a hoarse whine slips out. “I knew you,” he manages to whispers. “I knew you. And then I died.”

The Signal flinches, then reaches up and pulls his helmet off. “Tell me something only we would know. Anything.”

“I don’t… remember. I wanted you to save me. I don’t think you did.”

“If this isn’t really you, Danny,” Duke says, voice thick with tears, “Then it’s a really fucked up joke.”

Danny looks at Duke, helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What to say. Wraith only knows how to follow and protect and take orders. Danny doesn’t know how to live anymore. There is nothing he can do.

And then, as he stares as Duke, a memory slides into place, fuzzy but there.

“Arcade on eighth street,” he whispers, and Duke’s eyes go wide. “That was going to be our first date.”

“It was,” Duke says. There’s a light in his eyes now, something that looks like hope and the sight of it makes Danny sick to his stomach.

“I’m dead, Duke. Danny is dead. There is only Wraith now. Let the dead go, and stay away so we don’t have to kill you. I… want you to live.”

The shadows have loosened, still wrapped around his wrists but as a caress instead of a restraint. It doesn’t take any strength to pull out of them and drop off the roof, falling towards the ground. Danny lets gravity take hold of him for a few moments, then goes invisible and flies away just as Duke grapples down and searches for him desperately.

He can hear Duke calling his name, then calling in Batman and Nightwing, but his voice fades away before Danny can make out what they’re saying.

Not that it matters. Whether tomorrow or further down the line, he and Tim will leave Gotham and disappear for good.

The dead cannot stay with the living, and so they will go.

There’s nothing left for them here, anyways. . . .

Earth 0.

Duke has had his fair share of strange dreams. It comes with the trauma and the powers, a terrible mix that leave him shaken and rattled when he wakes up, gasping for breath.

But instead of fear, his latest series of dreams leave him with a deep-seated feeling of grief. The details fade away quickly once he’s awake, but he can remember bits and pieces of worlds that looks so different from the one he lives in, and all of them have a single constant: Danny.

Danny, whose face he never remembers when he wakes. Danny, whose name is permanently etched into his mind. Danny, who he loves and loses every single night.

Danny, someone he’s never met.

Dick asks him if he’s alright the next time he’s in Gotham, eating breakfast in the manor with him and Tim. He considers lying, then tells him about the dreams and how frequent they are, snapshots of other lives where there is someone important to him that he can never save. Tim, who he thought was sleeping with his eyes half open, looks up and mumbles that it might be another universe.

After a few cups of coffee, Tim is awake enough to ramble on about the multiverse, pulling up reports from the Batcomputer on his phone to show Duke how many of them have had run ins with alternate universes.

“So you’re saying that Danny might be here? In this world?”

Tim shrugs. “Well, maybe. If he’s the only constant, then I wouldn’t be surprised. If you’re here, so is he.”

“But he always dies!”

“Don’t worry, Duke,” Dick says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “If you do find him, then you’ve got all of his to help keep him safe.”

“Do you want me to find him? If you give me a description, I can probably narrow it down to a few people in the United States. One of them might be him.”

Duke considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah, thanks though. If we’re supposed to meet, then we will. No point in rushing it.”

“Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.”

And that had been that. Nothing to really worry about, but the dreams continue and Duke keeps waking up grieving and so love with Danny, carrying the feelings of his alternates over to his own reality. At some point, he wishes that he and Danny would never cross paths in this world, if only so he doesn’t have to lose him.

But he wants to meet him. The universe says Danny is important to him; why else would he be part of his life in every world?

The thought never leaves him. It’s always in the back of his mind as he goes about his life, going to school and fighting crime. He finds himself lingering in the streets, trying to see everyone’s faces, listening for that familiar voice.

It takes over a year before he hears someone say, “Danny!” as he’s patrolling as Signal.

He bends the light around him, going invisible, and searches for the people shouting the name of the person he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. It takes some time, but his eyes land on a tall, red haired woman fussing over a boy with black hair and blue eyes, leaning down some so she could reach his face.

He can’t hear what they say with the distance between them, but he knows with absolute clarity that he’s looking at Danny.

His Danny.

Duke takes a step forward, ready to drop his invisibility, letting the light escape his grasp, the pauses when he sees the bright smile on his face.

This Danny is safe. He is alive and laughing and is with someone he cares about.

This Danny has a life and a future and as much as Duke wants to know why his alternate selves love Danny so much, it isn’t worth Danny’s life.

Heart breaking, Duke steps back and watches as they walk away, disappearing into the crowded streets.

He stares after them long after they’ve disappeared from sight, then grapples to a rooftop and releases his hold on the light. He sinks to his knees, trying to breathe through the grief that runs through him, and taps a pattern into his comms to signal that he’s ending his patrol early.

It’s fine, he tells himself. This is for the best. This will keep Danny alive.

Danny always dies because of Duke. Someway, somehow, whenever they meet, the bell tolls and Danny’s death quickly approaches. It happens in every world, in the many, many dreams he’s had looking into a moment of their lives.

But not this one.

In this one, Duke will save Danny by doing the only thing he can: making sure they never meet.

It’s for the best. It has to be. . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #this was sooo fun to write i love multiverses and reincarnation and things like that #dont know much abt dc multiverses so i looked them up and did numbers that werent listed in the wiki #in order its:#steampunk. karma kills batman au. post apoc. reverse robins. and then canon #hope you enjoy!! i really enjoyed writing this and the reverse robins one has my mind spinning with ideas #thank you for the prompt!!

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