#they fought tooth and nail to escape their past | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lazycats-stuff · 6 months

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How about a one of the one where the family didn't know about male reader past and found scars. Let's see the justice league/titans/young justice reactions to readers past

R.I.P Deathstroke cause the moment anyone sees him there all about to jump on him🤣

Yup, RIP Deathstroke. Batman will kill him. Also, I think I wrote in a new style... No dialog at all.

Summary: (Y/N) used to be a weapon for Deathstroke. The batfamily didn't know.

Warnings: protective everyone, (Y/N) trained as a weapon, Deathstroke is awful, The family is read to kill everyone.

(Y/N) pulled his sleeves down. He couldn't let anybody see those scars. And nobody can't know about them. Once they do, they will kick him out and he will be back on his own again. He couldn't be back alone on his own.

Sometimes he got nightmares about his past. The things he had to do were absolutely horrible and it would make Batman wince and shudder. Some of the habits were outright impossible to shake off.

Sometimes he would skip meals when the mission has failed. Or he would overwork himself when he could hear Deathstroke in his head. He wanted to get the bastard out of his head, but he couldn't. No matter what he tried he couldn't.

He opened his window and stepped out on the roof. It was dark and cold, middle of winter here in Gotham City. He took his pack of cigarettes out and his lighter.

God knows he needed it today. Deathstroke's voice today was a bastard today. No matter what he did today, he heard Deathstroke. Judging him... Putting him down for everything he did.

He took a cigarette and put it in his mouth. He lit it, guarding the cigarette with his hand. He removed the hand when it was lit. He took a very long drag.

After a few moments, he let the smoke out. He never had actually smoked when you let the smoke to your lungs, instead he kept the smoke in his mouth.

He looked down, closing his eyes. He still remembers how he came to Gotham. He fought tooth and nail to run. He went through hell and back to get to America itself.

Somehow he made his way to Gotham city. He knew that he would blend in there, with the amount of people on the streets, especially kids. It wasn't a good thing, but hey, if it helped him, then sure.

None the less, he tried to atone on the streets. He helped out people whenever he could, especially with the main criminals in Gotham. Whenever he could mess their plans, he would did it.

But there was one thing that he has vowed to never do again. He has vowed to never kill again. He will never take a life ever again. He messed with Black Mask more times than he can remember, but his favorite person to mess is Riddler.

That man needed to knocked down a few pegs. Well, not a few, a lot of more. And he loved every minute of it.

The only problem here was Batman. He knows when someone else gets involved with his criminals and (Y/N) knew he had to watch out for Batman. Seeing the four Robins, Batman had an adoption problem.

Well, it had more to do with adopting probably troubled kids and turning them into the vigilantes. He didn't need that. Especially with Deathstroke looking for him. That wouldn't be a good idea.

But did that stop Batman from trying to capture (Y/N). Oh no. Batman and (Y/N) saw one another by pure accident. (Y/N) was looking for the explosives that he heard Penguin had.

And Batman has heard it too. That's when the two saw one another. He was accompanied with Robin and it seemed that they were looking for him too. (Y/N) wasted no time as he ran away. Robin went after him and that's something that nobody would want to see.

Robin is the closest thing to Batman with his effectiveness and plans. And that was something thar was scary to think about. (Y/N) ran like never in his life. He had no intentions of fighting the little demon.

He managed to escape that night, but Batman wouldn't give up. He was eventually taken and then introduced into the family. It took a while for him to relax, to start trusting his now brothers and a new dad, not to mention a grandfather.

He made sure that absolutely no one saw his scars. He made sure that nobody knew anything about his past too. After some time, he felt more relaxed and he could finally feel free. He was very close with his brothers now and his father too.

Alfred was his favorite though. Not that he had favorites, but Alfred was just so sassy.

Bruce was more than happy to see him relaxed and happy so he introduced him to the Justice League. The meeting went well and (Y/N) got uncles and an aunt, who adored him dearly. Bruce didn't even want to think what would they do if (Y/N) got hurt by anyone. They didn't know how brutal his past was and (Y/N) would have liked it to stay that way.

One day the mission went tits up to put it bluntly. (Y/N) got seriously hurt trying to get intel and he was rushed to the hospital wing. He started working as a (V/N) after a year after being at Bruce's. He was rushed to the hospital wing where the doctors got to work.

Bruce was impatient, waiting for the news. (Y/N) had to pull through. Right? Everyone was quiet as they waited for the news. Was the intel really worth it? Where did that mission before anything else?

Bruce rubbed his eyes. For the first time since the mission started, he wanted to rip this cowl off. These times, when he wanted to rip his cowl off, were very rare.

After hours of waiting, Bruce was finally allowed to see his son. He was shocked by the mere scars covering him. A part of his chest was exposed and there were clearly scars thar looked old.

Worse of all, it all looked deliberate. Bruce paled and the rest were no different. Bruce thought that his knees that were going to buckle and he would fall down.

What has he been through? After (Y/N) woke up, Bruce asked him about it and that's when (Y/N) broke down, telling them all everything. The brutal training, the punishments and everything that happens if he fails a mission.

Bruce saw red when he heard that it was Deathstroke. He wanted to go after him, but his son needs him more now. He embraced his son tightly, letting him let out the things that he has buried. (Y/N) cried for a while.

Bruce just held him tightly, making a promise to himself to get Deathstroke. The Justice League listened and they all promised to get Deathstroke. He won't be dead, but he will be recovering for years after they get him.

Damian and Dick invited (Y/N) to the Teen Titans. (Y/N) didn't have anything else to do that day and he has decided to go. Bruce didn't tell anything to his brothers per (Y/N)'s request. Bruce wanted to, but he wanted to respect (Y/N)'s wishes.

Damian and Dick noticed that something has changed in (Y/N)'s demeanor and something has shifted in Bruce's and (Y/N)'s relationship, but they couldn't pinpoint what has changed.

But (Y/N) seemed a bit more comfortable and that was all that it mattered to all of them. Dick has already introduced (Y/N) to the Teen Titans and everyone liked him a lot. He got along with everyone and it seemed natural to him.

Dick was happy that his brother got along with his team. It was nice to see that he was socializing with kids his age. Kori absolutely adored him, often calling him baby bird and just hugging him whenever she could.

(Y/N) didn't mind her hugs. They were warm and always tight. And they were always comforting. (Y/N) went to Dick's room, tired from the patrol from last night. He also wanted to take a shower, considering that it was hot and he was wearing a long sleeved T-shirt. Dick provided him with clothes when he was in the shower so that meant that he would have to step out of the bathroom to get it, scars exposed.

In theory, it should be fine, right?

It would be if Dick didn't walk in just as (Y/N) stepped out. Dick stopped dead in his tracks. Damian also walked in, looking for (Y/N). The trio looked at one another in shock. (Y/N) took a step back and that snapped Dick from his shock.

After dressing into the clothes that were brought to him in the bathroom. He thought about escaping, but he knew that he couldn't. He stepped out where Damian and Dick were waiting. (Y/N) told them both what has happened.

To say Dick and Damian were enraged was an understatement of the year. Damian was already hatching a plan to get revenge and Kori, probably sensing the tension in the room.

(Y/N) told her, hanging his head down. He knew what Deathstroke has done to the Teen Titans. Kori stayed quiet for a moment before hugging (Y/N) tightly. (Y/N) teared up a little and slowly the team piled into the room.

(Y/N) explained everything to them and he got hugs and reassuring words. And something that he didn't know, they all swore revenge.

The last people to find out about (Y/N)'s past are Jason and his Outlaws. Jason, instead of finding out on his own, was called by Bruce to let him know. (Y/N) didn't want to be alone at the manor and since nobody was going to be there, Jason offered to watch (Y/N).

(Y/N) allowed Bruce to tell Jason since he didn't have any type of strength left to let him know. Jason got to working. Blankets, snacks, comfort foods too and movies and TV shows.

Artemis, Red Arrow and Bizzarro could only watch in silence as Jason did everything. They heard (Y/N) was coming, but why did Jason need to do this?

When they tried to ask him, he would brush them off. Now they were all a little bit worried now. They have met (Y/N) prior to this and they liked the kid.

What has happened?

Jason stopped for a moment and everyone watched as (Y/N) entered. Jason immediately hugged his brother, leading him to the couch, still holding his brother tightly. He wrapped his brother in a blanket, moving the snacks closer.

Everyone was very curious and sat around the two brothers. (Y/N) just put his face into Jason's chest and Jason didn't mind it. After getting permission to tell everyone, Jason explained everything to his team.

Well, Deathstroke wasn't going to live very long if the Outlaws get their hands on the bastard. But for now, they will help (Y/N) in any way they can.

The promise of revenge came true a couple of months later. (Y/N) wasn't on this mission, but the Batfamily was. They didn't expect to find Deathstroke, but it was perfect.

The family thought like never before, with so much rage and anger clouding their minds, so much red in their visions that it looked liked they were possessed.

After beating Deathstroke to a pulp, they were happy. They made every punch and kick worth it.

Bruce took a deep breath, to finally calm himself. He fulfilled the promise to his son and now he could finally let go of that anger. The others felt amazing too. They have fulfilled their promises and (Y/N) could feel better.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #batkids #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x male reader

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chronicrabbit · 1 year

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They’re arguing again.

It’s been getting worse recently; the constant bickering like an old married couple.

Steve could usually understand why Eddie was annoyed with him, their disagreements typically toeing the line between heated and playful.

Usually, it was because Steve got a piece of nerd trivia he “definitely knew” wrong on purpose to mess with Eddie.

Or a lot of the time, it was a disagreement on what to watch for movie night, culminating in Steve and Eddie attempting to speak over one another to deliver their point on why their movie was superior while they wrestled to grab at the other’s.

This time, though…

It had started with a comment from Jason Carver.

The asshole was bitter about the almost role reversal between himself and Eddie once Eddie’s name had been officially cleared, the government coverup painting him as the unlikely hero who’d fought off a crazed serial killer to protect the children who’d bravely gone to find him.

Hawkins citizens, not wanting to take the blame of organizing a town-wide witch hunt for an innocent 20 year old and a bunch of freshman, had turned the blame on their old golden boy, citing him as the instigator that’d “poisoned their minds against the Munson boy” and ultimately shunning him.

Jason evidently hadn’t taken too kindly to the change, demonstrated by the drink he’d hurled at Eddie’s head outside of the diner they’d just walked out of and the seething insult that’d barely passed through his teeth before Steve’s fist was connecting with them in a brutal hit that knocked the jock flat on his ass.

In the blink of an eye, a fight had broken out between Steve and Jason’s still loyal cronies, one that ended with Police sirens, a very unimpressed Hopper, and several broken noses and bruised knuckles, including Steve’s own.

Eddie had been stonily silent as he drove them back to Steve’s place, his knuckles white from the suffocating grip he had on his steering wheel and his gear shift.

Steve almost wished he’d left it at that, just allowed Eddie to drop him off and toddled inside to care for his wounds without prodding.

Maybe if he just hadn’t said anything, they wouldn’t be having the screaming match they were currently having in the living room of his house.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset about this!” Steve shouted, hands spread out in a questioning shrug as Eddie let out a scoff, rolling those big brown eyes with clear but no less confusing exasperation.

“Of course you don’t, Steve!” he shot back, continuing to pace across the floor with such intensity Steve would be surprised if he didn’t wear a path into the carpet.

“Of-fucking-course you don’t understand! Because that’s just what you do, right? See a threat and swing a punch without a single thought in your fucking head!”

Steve jolted back as if the shouted words were a physical blow.

He sorta felt like they were, a dull pain settling deep in his chest, familiar warmth bubbling up behind his cheeks and eyes.

He pinched at his nose to stave off the hot tears that threatened to spill, wincing as he agitated the no doubt nasty bruise forming on the bridge from a well aimed punch.

“Don’t-“ Steve started to say, his voice wavering as he fought tooth and nail to keep it steady.

“Don’t say that. You… you’re the only one that doesn’t call me dumb. Please…”

Eddie’s expression dropped in an instant, all of that tightly coiled anger disappearing in an instant as he turned to face Steve with deep and instant regret glimmering in his dark eyes.

“Steve,” he breathed, taking a hesitant step toward him. He closed the distance quickly as a tear escaped past Steve’s well laid and well practiced defenses, trailing down his shame flushed cheek before he could manage to stop it.

“Steve, I… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry,” he spoke in a shockingly gentle voice, as if he expected Steve to just shatter in front of him.

Maybe he would.

“You’re not dumb. You- fuck.”

Eddie’s head dropped down, hanging low between his shoulders as he reached out oh so carefully, taking Steve’s hands in his own.

Steve could feel his heart beating in his throat as Eddie smoothed his thumbs lightly over the bruises forming on his knuckles, the ghost of a touch that was still more than enough to send him reeling.

“I just wish you would think about yourself, sometimes, that’s all.”

Those huge brown eyes met his full force, darker and deeper than any ocean, more vast and more beautiful than the night sky, and Steve was certain he could lose himself in them trying to count each and every constellation.

“You risk so much of yourself all the time. If Henderson can be believed, you have been since ‘83. So many years of putting others before yourself, of being the brave one, the fighter, the protector.”

As if to prove his point, Eddie’s hand came up to hold Steve’s scraped up jaw, his thumb lightly tugging at the scabbed over split on his bottom lip.

Steve winced, but he didn’t move away.

Couldn’t.

“You take care of everyone else. But… who’s gonna take care of you?”

Eddie started to pull away, the lack of proximity, of guitar calloused hands on him, leaving him colder than he’d ever been.

Steve was moving before he could fully think it through, his hand coming up to grip Eddie’s wrist.

He pulled gently, bringing Eddie’s surprise slackened hand back up to once again cup his jaw while he leaned into the touch like a cat.

“Are you volunteering, Munson?”

Steve honestly couldn’t tell who moved first, but the two met in the middle, their lips connecting in a passionate kiss; the kind of kiss that made time stop, that launched ships, that made even the worst cynic believe in love.

A new warmth bloomed through Steve’s body, all encompassing like bright sunlight on a summer morning, and he had never felt safer or more cared for than at that moment, gathered up in Eddie Munson’s arms.

And Steve thought, if this is what happened when they argued, they should argue a lot more often.

#listen I just have a lot of feelings about them okay?#steddie #I will write as many Steddie first kisses as my mind can conjure up #this shit is therapeutic #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve/eddie #steveddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #all those tags

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burstanddecay · 1 year

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hi, lovely x

how about our baby Matt Murdock + "X pulls Y in for a kiss by their necktie"?

I hope your brain is nicer to you soon xx

Hi darling! I had an absolute field day with this one, thank you!

I'm working on the brain thing, but it's a slow journey. We'll get there eventually though! 🤎

lavender haze

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader Summary: Matt comes home late, soaking wet from the rain outside, just as you're taking a bath. It leaves you with a question you're a little hesitant about, but he encourages you to ask it anyway. Wordcount: 1.5k Contains: Past jealously, mentions of fingering. Mainly just soft fluff 🧡

The rain seems unrelentless today, pouring down from the moment you opened your eyes this morning, continuing all throughout the day with no end in sight. It pounds against the windows, pelting razor sharp drops as if it was an act of vengeance, trying to prove a point to an uncaring world.

You’re standing in front of the one reason you fought tooth and nail for this apartment: the massive bathtub, currently filled with water so hot the steam caused the mirror to fog up as it filled. The bath bomb you lowered in turned the water a lovely soft lavender, filling the air with a citrusy scent you can’t quite place.

The wick of the candle you’re lighting crackles in protest before a small flame settles on the neatly trimmed wick. You carefully place it back on the vanity, a fair distance away from your towel and other things, the thought of an accidental fire always an anxious thought in the back of your mind. Almost ready to finally get in, you flick the light off as you move to hang your robe off the hook on the door, leaving the bathroom to be lit by the candle alone.

The water is scalding and you bite back a satisfied hiss as you lower the first leg into the water, sitting down on the edge of the tub as you acclimate, barely needing a minute before you fully sink into the tub.

A wave of ease washes over you as you close your eyes, letting the warm water melt the tight muscles in your back, there thanks to the stress that came along with a day full of meetings. The sound of the rain is a welcome accompaniment to your winddown, something you seek out as your ambience of choice for a variety of things. It’s something Matt lovingly likes to poke at, the teasing endless when you once jokingly said it feels like I’m a little mouse reading under a mushroom. It's called escapism, Matthew. The inevitable reply had poked fun at the subway rats that he could hear scuttling about, telling you with a completely straight face that they strictly listened to either smooth jazz or Eminem, no in between.

The delivery had been so stone-faced that you paused for a second before picking your book up and continuing reading where you left off.

A few minutes pass before you open your eyes again, moving to reach for the tablet you placed on the stool next to the tub, hesitant between the choice of listening to the audio book you’re slowly making your way through, or rewatching an episode of New Girl you’ve already seen more times than you’d like to admit.

The decision is made for you as you hear the front door unlock. There’s only one person with a key that would let themselves in, that person being Matt. He’d called earlier in the day and mentioned he’d be late, no guaranteed timeline as to when that would be. When those words are uttered, it usually means pulling an all-nighter, the case they’re working on so complex it eats into his Daredevil hours. In a rare exception, it wasn’t as late as you thought it would be: it was around eight when you started setting everything up, something that usually took no more than thirty minutes before you could actually take your bath.

You pause when you don’t hear the door close immediately behind him, straining to hear what’s going on, Matt’s voice inaudible compared the shrill voice of your neighbour that always seemed to be mysteriously running into him in the hallway.

You had been snarky about it once, when hormones had been wrecking your body mid-period and you ran out of the patience that Matt seemed to have in spades sometimes. He calmly explained that she had a crush on him, her heartbeat and breathing telling on her, and that she definitely did not run into him by accident, but rather lingered near the door and just conveniently went to get her mail just to talk to him.

He proceeded to give you an orgasm that was so mind blowing that it still lingers in your mind, all as was he sat behind you on the couch with an unwavering steadiness to him, letting you know he wasn’t going anywhere.

That doesn’t deter her from trying to get her way, so you close your eyes again, slipping down in the water until your shoulders are submerged, revelling in the warmth as you leave them to their conversation.

“Sweetheart?”

“In here.” you reply, eyes still closed. “Bathroom.”

You hear his footsteps approach before he softly knocks on the door. “Can I come in?”

You hum in reply, opening your eyes as the door creaks open and Matt slips in.

“Hi,” you smile in amusement as he comes into view. Though barely visible in the dim light, you can see his hair is slicked back, plastered to his head by the downpour outside. “’s bit wet outside, huh?”

He snorts, leaning against the vanity with his arms crossed. “Only a little. Took a cab, so managed to stay mostly dry.”

Part of you stills feel like it’s intrusive to ask how Matt experiences the world, though he had been honest about it when things started to get serious between you two. You still struggled to understand what was too much, what he could tune out. That line was something you still toed, something he apparently picks up on.

“You’re worried,” he says. “Anxious. Did anything happen at work today?”

“Nooo,” you breathe, sliding down a little further, the water silently sloshing. You hesitate again, not sure about what you want to ask.

“Just because I can hear your heartbeat, doesn’t mean I’m a mind reader, sweetheart,” he says, taking his glasses off before placing them on top of your towel. “It sounds like a panicked rabbit.”

“Have you ever seen a rabbit before?”

“Stop deferring the question,” he says, no malice behind the words.

“I wasn’t aware we're in court, mister Murdock,” you smile at the seriousness on his face. You can see the faint outline of a bruise on his cheekbone with his glasses off, his scruff a little heavier than usual. “Nothing happened at work. A question popped into my head and I’m not sure it’s rude or not. That’s all.”

He hums quietly and pushes himself off the vanity, taking off his suit jacket before sitting down on the edge of the tub. A hand comes up and softly brushes your cheek as he smiles at you.

“The fact that you even consider the fact that whatever comes into your mind might offend me, says a lot. But it won’t.”

You pause and look at your boyfriend, whose unfocussed gaze rests just off your face, his thumb brushing across you chin, body language relaxed and open.

Sometimes you still struggle to believe you got this lucky.

“I…” you start, searching for the right words. “The rain. Does it like… mess with your ability to do your thing?”

His face breaks into a bright smile at the question. “That was your question?”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles. “A little. Depends on how tired I am,” he says honestly. “It’s harder to hear my surroundings, it gets muddled. Takes more energy to listen and pick up what I need, leave what I don’t.”

You smile and sit up, pulling your knees to your chest as you do. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

You shrug. “Answering my question.”

His hand wanders to one of your exposed knees, tracing circles with his index finger. “Don’t think that’s something that warrants a thanks, sweetheart.”

“Oh?”

“You can ask me whatever, baby. Any time, any day.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you look at Matt, who smiles at you in reply, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

You don’t say anything, but instead reach for his tie and pull him closer until his breath ghosts over your face. It halts, stuttering in his throat as he waits for what’s going to happen. You grin, twisting the tie around your hand, the other coming up to his cheek as you place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“In that case, wanna get in?” you ask, toying with the silk fabric in your hand, the other scraping alongside his jaw. He looks fully content, a step away from purring, his eyes hazy as he leans into your touch.

“I think there’s something else I’d rather do,” he murmurs, the hand that was leaning on your knee sliding down into the water, disappearing between your thights.

“Wh—Oh,” you gasp, jerking at unexpected sensation, soaking his pantleg in the process. “Shit, yeah, okay. Or we do that. Jesus.”

He grins, giving you a quick kiss before getting up, moving your towel onto the stool next to the tub and taking his exit.

“See you in a bit, sweetheart.”

You groan, sinking back down into the water, rubbing your face as you do, knowing there’s a long night ahead of you, curtesy of Matt Murdock.

#matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock

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holylulusworld · 6 months

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The story

Summary: She's not going to let him down.

Pairing: TFATW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, Bucky feels not worth being loved, written in Bucky’s PoV, fluff

A/N: Inspired by the song “The Story” by Brandi Carlile. Lyrics are taken from the song.

Sequel to: Ruined

No one wants to hear my story. I get it. I’m a relic from the past most people want to forget about.

Why think about dark times and the monsters I worked for? Or what I had to endure.

Even my best friend, the man I considered my brother, left me to go back to better times.

Steve wanted to live the dream he believed he wanted. He didn’t care that I had to hold his hand when he died.

I’m stuck in this world, with my past hanging over me like a dark cloud. There is nothing I can do about it.

The only light in my life is her. She makes the world brighter, and my life bearable.

Sometimes I believe I’m not attractive enough for her. I have lines across my face, and scars litter my body and mind.

She’s perfect, looking like an angel. Every man turns their head when she enters a room. I always wonder why she chose me.

My girl left this perfect guy. He had it all. The looks, a shit-ton of money, and a good reputation. I can’t even hate him. It’s not his fault that my life got fucked up so bad that I can’t even sleep.

No wonder he fought tooth and nail and even played dirty to get her back. He spread rumors and lies about me, and Sam. Telling everyone we turned dark and tried to extort him.

Y/N refused to go back to him. She even sent the huge diamond ring I’ll never be able to afford back to him. My girl told him to fuck off and grow up.

Still, I hate the man I see in the mirror. He’s not the cocky man going to war, or dancing with the ladies.

I feel like my body and soul are scared so badly that I’m not going to heal. And I don’t mean my missing arm, and the pain I feel most days.

“Baby,” her soft voice brings me out of my thoughts. She breaks the endless circle of self-loathing once again. “Stop it right now.”

Y/N wraps her arms around my waistline from behind. She dips her head to look at me in the mirror. “I love you the way you are,” Y/N says and kisses the scar tissue around my metal arm. “There is not a single thing I’d change about you, baby.”

“Y/N,” I stare at the man in the mirror as she steps next to me to take my hand. “I—”

“Look again, B,“ she says. “For me. I want you to see the man I see.”

I exhale sharply and drop my gaze. It’s so hard to look at myself and like what I see.

“What do you see in me? I’m…no good.”

“Bucky, look again,” she squeezes my hand, holding it tightly. “Please…”

I lift my gaze, and oddly I see a different man.

All of these lines across my face Tell you the story of who I am So many stories of where I've been And how I got to where I am

The longer I stare at myself, the more I see.

I see the young man, full of dreams, who tries to lift his small and weak friend up.

I see the soldier, becoming a man during endless nights spent in fear of getting killed.

I see the prisoner, praying that the monsters capturing him end his life.

I see the man, freed of his shackles as his best friend became a hero.

I see the man fighting alongside Captain America. Brave and fierce.

I see the wounded man, torn apart and put back together by the enemy.

I see the Winter Soldier.

I see the man buying plums first thing after he escaped his handlers.

I see the man fighting alongside his best friend.

I see the man losing it all again.

I see the man finding love when he is about to give up.

“I’m nothing without you, doll. You helped me become this man too,” I dip my head to glance at my girl. “I want you to look at yourself too and see the woman I see.”

She smiles, and we look at the mirror again. Together.

But these stories don't mean anything When you've got no one to tell them to It's true, I was made for you

“You came a long way, Bucky,” she says. “I know that there are still things you don’t want to talk about. But if you are ready, I’ll be here to hold your hand. Always.”

“Always.”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #female reader #angst #fluff #The story

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yn-ymn-yln · 1 year

Text

Misguided Emotions

Eddie Munson x Neurodivergent!Reader

Warning: Anxiety, emotions (always need a warning for that), slight emotional meltdown? kind of? description of sensory issues.

Word count: 1188

Summary: A new fixation leads to a misunderstanding between you and Eddie.

*I return from the dead to drop this in your laps and leave ✌️*

Eddie hadn’t meant to get angry. Meant even less to let his frustration reach the surface and ooze on to your tender excitement.

You had seen the perfect stuffy while shopping with Robin and Nancy. It was soft to the touch, with long floppy ears that you swore were made of pure silk and a squishy tummy that was brilliantly embroidered with the words “be mine”.

It truly had been love at first sight.

“I wish you had been there Teddie! It was so perfect!”

Through the haze of your infatuation, you had asked Eddie if he would take you back to buy it, claiming that you didn’t have the money now but you would pay him back. To your sheer horror he had said no, a rare occurrence in the five-month relationship the two of you had.

Of course, you had fought him tooth and nail, desperate with need to bring such a beautiful thing into the sacred space of your room. This cycle continued for a while, asking for- in your mind- something so simple, yet being denied.

Finally, after many failed attempts to sway your attention to something else, you reached the precipice of Eddie’s seemingly endless patience.

“Jesus Christ, Fine!” Storming from the living room Eddie returned with said stuffy in hand, distaste clearly splayed on his usually kind features. “Here.” He tossed the victim of your hyper-fixation at you. “Was trying to surprise you… but if I have to hear you ask for it one more time, I’ll rip my hair out.”

His words sat like stone in your stomach.

You had ruined his surprise. You couldn’t just let it go, you had to pester him until he had no choice but to give you what you wanted.

Suddenly you were six years old again, begging your mother for a toy only to be reprimanded for asking at all. You felt like a child.

The chill of guilt seeped into your bones, while shame burned behind your eyes. You always did this, took things far beyond the threshold of other people’s tolerance, so fixated that you were often blinded by their motives. Regret set in quickly, tensing your muscles and making your skin feel odd and too tight.

“I’m sorry Eddie.” You hadn’t been able to meet his eyes when the words had left you. Determined to stare at the empty space he had once occupied. A shuttered breath broke past your lips when a beat of silence passed.

“It’s fine Y/n. Just take it.” His irritated sigh is what shattered whatever had been sticking you together, a sob escaping from within you and catching the unwanted attention of your boyfriend. That sound alone had been enough to break Eddie’s heart but seeing your distressed stimming had him moving without much thought.

“Baby- It’s really okay, I promise I’m not mad.” He kneeled before you, hands rubbing the rough material of your jeans into your thighs, trying desperately to ground you.

“No thank you!” Your emotions became jumbled, thoughts disjointed as you tried to process the events that had happened. On instinct your hands covered your ears, body trying in vain to shut out any unnecessary sensory input. Tears flooded your cheeks as you watched Eddie’s face morph from worried to mortified. He could fix this. He had to fix this.

“Here baby, isn’t it pretty?” Attempting to soothe you, he lifted the object of your fixation to your line of sight. You felt bile rise in your throat at the gesture.

“NO THANK YOU! NO THANK YOU! NO THANK YOU!” You continued this mantra all the way to his room, where you closed and locked the door before Eddie could follow. As you paced the tattered rug your mind wandered back to stuffy you had left behind. Something that had once made you excited and joyful was now tainted with humiliation and dread. You knew you wouldn’t be able to look at it without remembering this moment, but the thought of returning it made you feel even worse. What if no one else bought it? Would it think you hadn’t loved it? Your spiraling was broken by a light knock on the door, Eddie’s voice penetrating the wooden obstacle.

“Sweet thing, I’m sorry, please just let me in?” Ignoring him, you continued to pace while rubbing the worn, pilled fabric of your well-loved hoodie between your thumb and forefinger. The continuous motion soothing you somewhat.

An hour passed before you opened the door in a moment of clarity and retreated to the comfort of Eddie’s bed. Cocooning yourself in the fluffiest blankets you stowed away and waiting for Eddie to come in. Although you had desensitized yourself to the situation, you still bared ill feelings towards your behavior. So, you hid the best you could without shutting Eddie out completely.

“Baby?” It was meek, almost whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Is it okay if I come in?” His uncertainty stung, but not enough to give more than a one-word reply.

“Yeah.” You heard more than felt the bed springs as they shifted under the added weight.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” No.

“Yes.” You let the quiet envelope the two of you while Eddie rhythmically rubbed your blanket covered side. “I didn’t mean to behave badly. I’m sorry.” Eddie felt his throat tighten at your confession. You hadn’t behaved badly. You were just excited and maybe a little manic but he’d take those over this.

“You didn’t do anything wrong Y/n/n. I shouldn’t have gotten upset, definitely shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you.”

“I would have been mad too.” If the roles had been reversed you would have been, you know that. Yet here he is consoling you, though you were in the wrong.

Maybe you were both a little wrong.

Lifting the corner of your makeshift fortress, you glance at Eddie. To your surprise he’s already looking at you, eyes filled with regret and smile forlorn.

“I should have realized-” Your sentence is cut short by rough knuckles tracing the line of your jaw.

“Hey. This isn’t all on you, I could have made my intentions clearer, doesn’t matter now though, can’t change what happened but we can both do better next time yeah?” You nod, turning your head to connect your lips with his warm skin.

“I’m sorry.” The words still feel like an important step towards bridging the gap between anger and forgiveness, though Eddie hadn’t made them feel necessary.

“Me too… you forgive me?�� You can’t fight the giggle that escapes.

“f’course, do you forgive me?” He looks offended, almost appalled that you would even ask.

“How could I not? Sweet thing like you? You got me wrapped around your finger.” The cheeky lightness that carries with his statement settles the left-over anxiety in your system. You knew the conversation wasn’t over, things would need to be talked through, solutions would need to be put in place, but for now? You were more than content to watch as your favorite boy picked up that perfect stuffy and decorated your face with delicate beaded nosed kisses.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #neurodivergent!reader #eddie munson x reader fluff

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oswildin · 9 months

Text

Never Stop {Loki Laufeyson x Reader}

Summary: You tried to save your Loki, leading to you being captured by the TVA. But you escaped, evading them for years with one goal in mind. To burn it to the ground. What you didn’t expect was seeing Loki again. But your past was his would’ve been future. Now you stood before He Who Remains with only one thing on your mind. Revenge. But Loki knows it will never stop the pain.

A/N: Inspired by the Disney series plot, Y/N is in place of Sylvie. Also inspired from my TikTok Loki POV Series - https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJpd3VKu/

Warnings: None, just sad lol

Looking at He Who Remains made your blood boil. The way he so nonchalantly declared it was his doing you couldn’t go back and save your Loki… The TVA stepping in, capturing you, pulling you away… You lost your Loki to the cruel hands of Thanos, you were forced to watch as the Mad Titan snapped his neck, discarding him like a rag doll, like he was… nothing. But to you…

He was everything.

When the remaining members of the universes mightiest heroes found a way to go back in time to collect the stones, your mind instantly thought of Loki. Going back for the Tesseract was the least of your worries, your entire mind was consumed by the thought of finding a way to bring Loki back with you. It would’ve been Loki before he knew you. But it would’ve been Loki. And he would’ve been alive. 2012 Loki, in 2023. But as you arrived in Stark Tower, standing in the shadows, eyeing the familiar face of Loki, the man you hadn’t seen in five years… A glowing orange portal opened behind you, revealing a group wearing black, armed and helmeted… Dragging you away, muttering about ‘crimes against the sacred timeline’ and ‘variant’.

And so you fought. Tooth and nail. You escaped, and swore you would burn down the TVA to the ground for what they had done. The rage you’d kept buried deep came to the surface, clouding your mind and morals as you allowed it to consume you. Hiding in apocalypses, laying traps, stealing reset charges… All for your plan to go completely off course when you saw him.

Loki.

Working for the TVA. Well, at least associating himself with them. They’d brought him in, clearly having worked out you had a connection to him. His timeline. His future. And so once again, you fought tooth and nail. On Lamentis-1, in the TVA, in the Void…

And here you were. At the end. Loki back at your side, although he had no recollection of your past with him… his would’ve been future with you. He had seen the files. Mobius had showed him who you were to him. He’d seen how you had fought against the natural order of time to try and save him. And that’s when he knew he had to be with you till the end. The end of all this.

“You see… it isn’t about right or wrong-“ He Who Remains looked between the pair, sat at his desk, grand purple robe wrapped over his shoulders. “It’s about maintaining order.” He nodded slightly, brows raised, gaze flickering over them. “It was always going to end this way. You two, me, here at the end of time.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

You clenched your jaw, your hardened gaze focused on He Who Remains, fingers twitching around the hilt of the dagger in your lap. The dagger your Loki had given you in your timeline. His dagger. Loki glanced your direction, eyeing you closely, trying to gauge your next move. He could see the rage in your eyes, the desperation of wanting this all to be over. To get your revenge.

After a moment, you lunged from your seat, raising your dagger as you went to slice at He Who Remains, who didn’t look even the slightest bit surprised. However, a hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you back as you instantly whipped round, dagger pressed against Loki’s chest as you stalked towards him. Loki kept his hands up in a placating gesture, not wanting you to think he was moving to attack.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, furrowing your brows as you finally lowered your dagger.

“Let’s just-“ Loki tried, keeping his voice low and soothing. “-take a minute.” His eyes searched yours, whilst you frowned.

“Take a minute?” You huffed out, shaking your head. “I have had years to think about this.” You said lowly, gripping your dagger at your side. “He deliberately intervened me saving you.”

“What if he’s right?” Loki asked, his own brows furrowing. His eyes held uncertainty, conflicting feelings. “What if by killing him we unleash something far worse?” You pursed your lips, considering his words before taking a step back, away from Loki.

“You’re taking his side?” You breathed out, disbelief in your tone as Loki instantly shook his head.

“What?” He frowned. “No-“ But you cut him off.

“So what?” You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly gotten some morals-“ You bit at him.

“Say you kill him, what then?” Loki tilted his head slightly, holding his hands up in front of him towards you. “Do you think it will make you feel better?” He asked, raising a brow. “That it will dull the hurt? The rage?” He let out a small bitter laugh, shaking his head. “The rage that sits deep inside-“ He moved to jab himself in the chest, pointing at his heart. “-here. You think the more you do to try and ease it, the more destruction and killing will help ease it?” He let out a breath, his own eyes turning slightly glassy. “It doesn’t.” He paused. “And it probably never will.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the rising inside of the hurt he had referred to, blinking as you pulled your gaze away from him. Something in your mind told you he was right, but reason had left you long ago. It hurt Loki to see you looking so… Conflicted. Torn. So full of anger that it had seemingly taken over you. All because of him. Future or not, it was his death that had led you on this path.

“Move.” The word left your lips before you could stop it, turning your narrowed eyes back to Loki. Loki let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he straightened up.

“I can’t let you do this.” Loki told you softly.

“You promised you were with me.” You said, voice cracking slightly, a whirlwind of emotions rushing through you. Before Loki could even blink, you had raised your dagger, as his instincts kicked in, summoning his own as it clashed with yours.

You fought, face creased and determined as you knew you would kill He Who Remains… Whether Loki liked it or not. You have a quick jab to Loki’s chest with your free hand, causing him to stumble back as you turned on your heel, stalking towards He Who Remains. But Loki was quick to recover, rushing towards you, sliding to a stop in front of you as your blades locked, both pushing against each other.

“Please- Y/N- Just think-“ Loki pleaded, his brows furrowed, eyes holding yours as you grit your teeth.

“I did this for you!” You exclaimed, frustration and exhaustion in your voice. “He has taken everything!” You cried, leaning forwards slightly as you look at Loki. “So you may as well do it-“ You lowered your voice, your own eyes now slick with a sheen of unshed tears. “Kill me.” Your voice cracked, as Loki’s expression softened, looking almost heartbroken by your words.

“No.” Loki whispered, his own voice hoarse. You let out a roar of anger, finally shoving him away from you with all your might. As he flew back, you didn’t waste any time, running towards He Who Remains, dagger held high as you prepared to finally end him.

A green shimmer appeared before you, immediately stopping your blade as it pressed against Loki’s neck, his hands up as he threw his dagger down. You instantly stilled, tensing as he looked at you.

“Stop-“ Loki begged, tone almost ordering. “Y/N, just…” He paused, letting out a deep breath. “Stop…” He added gently, cautiously moving his hands to grasp your arms tentatively. A moment of silence passed between you, Loki pressed against the desk between you and He Who Remains. “Please.”

You blinked up at him, your grip on your dagger relaxing slightly as you slowly pulled it away from his neck, closing your eyes to hold back the tears.

“I wouldn’t want you to do this.” Loki told you lowly, urgency in his eyes. “Future me, past me or this me-“ He breathed out, his eyes growing glassier with each word. You finally reopened your eyes, looking up at him. “I’ve seen what you’ve tried to do. And I’ve seen what you would do to do it.” His voice wavered slightly, but kept its calming tone, trying to reason with you and make you see this wasn’t the way. “I can’t let you become like me.” He shook his head slightly, hands gently squeezing your arms. “Because it will never end here.” His bottom lip quivered slightly. “You’ve seen it already. With my past.” Finally, a tear fell from one of his blue eyes, as you felt your own cheeks begin to get damp. “You have to stop fighting for me.”

At his words, you let out a shaky breath, a small sob escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control your emotions. Loki felt his chest tighten at the sight, seeing you so vulnerable, angry, hurt… Steadying your breath, you reopened your eyes meeting his own, seeing the vulnerability in his own gaze.

“I’ll never stop fighting for you.” You whispered, seeing his breath catch slightly at your words. Loki wasn’t used to such… conviction, promise from someone else. Especially, not towards him. For him.

A second passed, before you closed the gap between you, moving your free hand to rest on his shoulder as you pressed your lips to his own. Instantly Loki melted into it, closing his eyes as he felt a swell of emotion in his chest. You felt another tear fall as you put everything into the kiss, all the longing, the years without him, the love you felt for Loki. All of him. This him and the one you knew. Loki moved one of his hands to your waist, holding you close as you both spun slightly, you now stood where he had been.

Finally pulling away, Loki’s gaze held yours, emotion swirling in his eyes as he regarded you. You. The one who had done everything in your power to save him. You gently moved your hand to rest on his chest as he slowly leaned towards you, going to kiss you again. You felt your heart break as you knew what you had to do.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, brows furrowed, causing his own to do the same in confusion. “Laufeyson.” You paused. “Y/N Laufeyson.” Your voice wavered slightly, the name you hadn’t spoken since the TVA had caught you. Loki’s eyes widened slightly, before you gave him a push backwards, causing him to fall back through the time door you had sneakily opened behind him, using He Who Remains’ TemPad device. Quickly, the portal closed behind Loki, separating him from you. You looked at the space where he was stood sadly, wondering if you had made the right choice.

But you had to finish the mission. Your mission. You had worked too hard, endured too much to simply walk away from He Who Remains…

Loki sat on the steps in the TVA, your last words to him echoing in his mind.

Y/N Laufeyson.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel x reader #mcu loki #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #loki x you #loki pov #Spotify

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thecoddaughter · 5 months

Text

Secret Life as Every The Crane Wives Song

(EXTREMELY LONG POST WARNING)

Etho:

Nothing at All “Do you ever feel nothing at all? I do, I do, I do. I would not wish that on you”

Counting Sheep “Feign contentment for a while, that's all you know how to do.”

Grian:

Sleeping Giant “I feel the mountains, I feel the mountains shifting under me. The sleeping giants are finally waking.” (This man knows things about the sudden arrival of a ominous deity like entity)

Steady, Steady “I can take for better but for worse can't condone. Most of all for good just makes me ache to be alone.” (Not teaming up with people for so long because of fear of hurting them)

Ancient History “My dreams keep digging up the bones of memories. Discarded remnants of former times.” (Again, watchers…)

Pearl:

I Talk In My Sleep “I talk in my sleep when my demons won't let me be. They twist the things I say when you are far away.”

How to Rest “Though you've convinced yourself, you're safe and sound within. The thing you fear the most never need get in.”

New Colors “Old towns here are mean. Spit fire and gasoline. But all I want is solitude. I have half a mind to climb up in the sky and hide myself inside the moon”

The Crooked, The Cradle “I'm nobody's daughter. I'm nobody's daughter. My enemies crow. "We're alone with the kill"” “I won't pretend my season won't end, but I pray, when it's done, when it's through I'll have something left for you.”

Scar:

The Garden “The crows in the garden are laughing at my expense, drowning out all the lies that I might have told instead” (his scamming and scheming butt can't escape me)

New Discovery “Sometimes I feel like I’m lost in the desert… I see my footprints in the sand so I know where I’ve been” (desert... like the desert duo... i'm so clever!)

Can’t Have It All “I won't bargain, I won't break. My mind's made up, though my head still aches and all my love you tried to take, but you can't have it all.”

Cleo:

Ribs “Brick and mortar between my bones. Built a kingdom fierce and fortified. My name fading from the yellow page. Stones are laid upon the mountainside.”

Tongues & Teeth “I will poison all your happy thoughts. I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box and if you're fine with that you can be mine.”

Impulse:

Little Soldiers “I fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown but you were already gone”

Strangler Fig “You built your kingdom around me. Now I'm trapped within your walls and all I want is to be free.” (That man died and joined the apocalypse willingly to be at Gem's side)

Scott:

Pretty Little Things “Cracked lips and hands, calloused hands. I still feel his touch against my skin. Past loves linger like phantom limbs.” “Don't buy me flowers, it pains me to watch. Pretty little things wilt away.” (this man hold's onto past alliances in her heart, only second to Skizz)

Shallow River “Red sky morning, lovers' warning. Oh I know that the promise you wear, well it ain't for me.” (red sky and love refer to Jimmy’s death. The “You” is Gem though)

Bdubs:

Never Love an Anchor “It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest with this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful” (him not so subtly jumping between mounders and roomies, maybe? idk. its also just kinda his vibe.)

Naked, the Night Falls “Turn your ghosts into mine. All the years, all the years I'm alive.” (him finding Etho and Cleo again)

BigB:

Hard Sell “Hoping I can find a better me. A fresh new start buried under me.”

Metaphors “I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors. I've gotten good at living on someone else's page. I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments. You can't trust a single thing I say.” (his cryptid butt is not escaping metaphors this go around)

Martyn:

Turn out the Lights “Sometimes all you can do is say goodnight and tuck your demons into bed cause they're not worth fighting.”

Rockslide “This wild weather's got the mountain shakin' weak. Oh I know you want to plant your feet but we best get a move on or the devil we will meet.” “That monster's comin' and it don't care for you or me. Don't look back now, honey” (This has been in my head since Martyn moved in with Jim at the top of the Mesa.)

Show Your Fangs “A ballad of a lonesome peak. I curse the ground, shed my old sins. For weight will only make me weak” “Bravely I will wield my weapon. I made from fangs of those that died.” (Big Dogs… RIP)

Skizz:

Know How “I keep my focus on what is safe. You drew a line. Made up your mind and now I'm struggling to realize.” (This song is Imp and Skizz’s relationship post Imp’s attack)

Easier “The only peace I have ever known is the peace I made with you. I won't move, but I can't stay here.” (Skizz and Tango’s relationship throughout the season)

October “Take my word but keep the upper hand. I know you, you're the daughter of a lonely man.” (My interpretation of SL!Skizz is this super caring guy who his haunted by this vague memory of bloodlust that comes out in empty threats to people he doesn’t really want to hurt.)

Gem (all of these are about session seven specifically!):

Allies or Enemies “They spread like some awful damn disease” “Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me.”

The Glacier House “You cursed the Earth you settled under… Under… Understand I had to go.” “Bundle up darling, you're on your own now. Seasons change as they do. Maybe I'll see you when your shivering is through.”

I Ain’t Done “I am a pretty young thing. I am consumed by selfish wanting. Carelessly broke you down but I’m not done.” (this girl came in and told a winner and a runner up that they need to get their act together and that she was gonna be the one to get them to the end. I love her!)

Joel “Loves his wife” Smallishbeans:

Down the River “'Cause ain't it easier to just move on? One door closing means another one. Opens unto some unsuspecting fool. “Sure, you can forget about all the things you've done but what about the rest of us? High-tail it when it gets to be too much.” “Too many people with your name on top of their lists.” “You were never the one to suffer.” (All of Joel’s anger about Jim celebrating Lizzie’s death and the fact that Jim then also immediately died, leaving him alone.)

Unraveling “But now my love is gone and I am left unraveling.” “And I am left here withering” “And I can't help the fracturing”

The Diving Bell “I descend so well, in an open diving bell, the beauty of the deep. Far into abyss in your silent lips call me will I sleep”

Caleb Trask “"When a flower blossoms red. That's the day, that's the day, that's the day. I'll love you. That's the day, that's the day. I'll love you." (I’ve stated before that this is his song, not specifically bc of SL. I think of azalea’s and I think of Joel.)

Tango:

Curses “There's a fire in my brain, and I'm burning up” “Every word I say is kindling but the smoke clears when you're around. Won't you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down?” (Our fire man and his forever teammate…)

Safe Ship, Harbored “Where does your faith form in me? Don't break the bottle. Don't waste your blessings on me.” “A safe ship, harbored losing all of my good years to the shallow water. I ain't proud.” (The Heart Foundation [in my opinion] seemed like a great way to make alliances and be well liked, however, it also kinda put them at a disadvantage never getting any hearts of their own.)

Mumbo:

The Moon Will Sing “On some level, I think I always understood that these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever.” “With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful. There is love that doesn't have a place to rest. But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders” (Something, something. The love Mumbo has for Grian.)

Back to the Ground “Little buds make their graves as the warmth inside us fades but I still don't know shit about letting go.” “Our hearts lay still and cold, under frozen soil. I can't stay here anymore so remember when I go.” (Something, something. The miner destined for accidents.)

Jimmy:

Not the Ghost “If only I could break the chain of disappointments, weighing me down. Shake off the ghosts that whisper warnings.”

Keep You Safe “When I watched my friends ride to the tops of the trees. With the risk of fall, I never climbed at all.” “Time is not your friend. Time is not your remedy. No amount of waiting will make you, make you brave.”

Canary in the Coal Mine “You and I are friends of empty graves” (he does not escape this song!)

Lizzie (all of these songs with Lizzie in mind makes me cry):

Can’t Go Back “The time has come for moving on. You can't be always trying to dig up. What you've already buried.” “It's not fair (When have you ever known the world to be a fair place?) It's not fair (All things end and all things change) It's not fair (You'll look back and laugh someday) It's not fair (Or at least you'll learn to be okay)”

Of Everlong “And if my lover will not hear it. Take my voice and take my spirit, leave me weakened and dig my hole. Only my lover, not I, can keep my soul” (Only Joel mourns her and it’s a sad sad day)

Icarus “Til your far away and breathing cleaner air, oh my brother…” (her brother... the man cursed to die... named after a bird who dies of poisoned air... who'd a thunk it...)

Unplaced songs: The hand that feeds, hole in the silver lining, Once & For All

#trafficblr #secret life #secret life spoilers #secret life as songs #traffic life as songs #traffic life crane wives #crane wives

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zombie-rott · 4 months

Text

The Driftwood & The Rift; Part II.

Pairing: Mountain X Dew.

Summary:

Not everyone enjoys Yule. Least of all the ministry's favourite fire ghoul. Marred by his sordid past in the pit, Dew locks himself away to begin his yearly tradition, but with Swiss no longer there to control him, things get out of hand. And if he's going to be banished for his shameful behaviour, he might as well tell one of his oldest friends exactly where his feelings lie.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, blood, injury, ghouls kissing.

A03 Part 1

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The smell of smoke and flesh stung Dew’s nostrils as he watched the flame climbing high above the pyre. Around him, his ghoul-kin (her ghoul-kin) mourned and sobbed with pain so thick it coated the air like a blanket. But Dew couldn’t cry, he wouldn’t cry. Not in front of them .

He took their abuse in his stride, hissing and biting back when he could, but never quite landing a hit. He was much too small and they were all much too big. Yes, even the other kits his age. And as if his runt body wasn’t enough, he was now alone in the pit, without a mother or bloodline to call his own. Just an orphan within a pack of water ghouls, much too obsessed with themselves to give a shit about him.

If Dew stayed sleeping long enough or lost in his daydreaming, he could practically feel the bones breaking beneath his skin, or the scales being ripped from his tail. Dew was their plaything for centuries, an obedient punching bag that screamed and wailed with each hit. He was their pet, always available to starve, kick, and fuck. Oh, how they loved to watch him limping away, tail between his legs but heckles raised and teeth boar; like a wounded cat retreating from a fight.

But, despite all their atrocities, Yule brought time for celebration. Hypocritically speaking. They sat around their table and praised their Gods. They performed their silly rituals, begged Satan to bless their sacred waters and bring them good luck in the next century to come. And while they exchanged their love and thanks to each other, Dew was always left out. He remained on the fringes of this absurd holiday like a leper, looking through the window of a church, begging for acceptance.

His mother had never left him out. She’d always made sure to hold him and hug him, and tell him how much he meant to her. She protected him from the pack. She fought for him to survive tooth and nail, size be damned.

She was the only thing he thought about as he felt his body alight from the inside. Her gaze met his as his blood boiled, and his skin melted. Her voice soothed him as he wailed and pleaded for death, as his hair became singed and all water was purged from his body.

“You have a fire within you, my little sprite. You will ignite!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Dew was pulled sharply into wakefulness with a shattering crack as his forehead made contact with the stone of his bedroom floor. He roared, the pain reverberating throughout his skull and igniting behind his eyelids. Gingerly, he pushed himself over onto his side. There was a warm sensation trickling down his forehead and the fire ghoul cringed at the realisation that he was possibly bleeding.

Shit.

“Dew? Dewdrop!”

The fire ghoul hissed in the direction of the disembodied voice as he struggled to sit upright against the box spring. His head pounded and throbbed, stars forming before half-lidded eyes. Somewhere in his mind, he searched for the words to shout back, but none came. Only a low whine escaped through his clenched teeth.

“I’m getting help!”

Dew wanted to protest. He wanted to scream at the alien voice, but he could barely open his mouth. All he could do was pull himself across the floor in a frantic panic, through bottles and feathers and glass, towards the bathroom. There, bruised and broken, Dew pulled himself into the shower stall. He rested his head back against the tiles as he struggled to catch his breath.

One. Two. Three.

He tried to get things under control but the pain bloomed and grew with every motion or thought, no doubt elevated by his hangover. Gingerly, he felt around his forehead for the source of the pain and felt the jagged edges of a broken horn, and the unmistakable wetness of blood above his left eyebrow.

“Hey! Dew!?” Swiss’ voice filled the emptiness of Dew’s quarters, accompanied by the hammering of knuckles on the bedroom door, “Dewdrop!”

The fire ghoul pulled himself further inwards.

“We’re coming in!”

There were mummers from the hallway, followed by the din of limbs hitting wood. Dew knew it wouldn’t take them long to break through, and with nowhere left to hide, he found himself backed into a corner. It felt vaguely like being hunted or hiding from his former pack members back in the pit, both feelings he never thought he’d experience again.

“Dew?!” Swiss voice called out, followed by the sound of splintering wood and the heaviness of footfall on stone.

“Satanus…”

“Dewdrop!? Where are you?”

“Are you alright?!

The chaos of noise hurt Dew’s ears. He couldn’t make out the other voices, only that of his best friend, but he was almost certain that Mountain must be amongst them. Who else would they employ to take down a wooden door but the oversized earth ghoul?

Dew heard them stumbling through his bedroom, the sound of glass crunching beneath their feet and bottles being shifted with their toes. They were searching for a sign of life and Dew knew it was only a matter of time before they followed the trail of blood to find him curled up in the corner of his shower caddy.

Like the pathetic runt I am.

It was Swiss who found him. He dropped to his knees and pulled the fire ghoul into his arms with such force and desperation that it made Dew’s head spin.

“ Fuck Dew.” The multi-ghoul cried as he inspected his friend’s battered face,” You’ve really done a number on yourself bud.”

“‘Snot that bad.” Dew managed through gritted teeth.

He wanted to pull away from the unexpected touch, but all strength was gone. He and his body were exhausted from days of drinking muddled with outbursts of emotional incompetence.

“Maybe we should call Aether.” Mountain’s calm and soothing voice suggested.

Dew opened his eyes to survey the scene above him but was blinded by the overhead light. He hissed and shied away, turning his face inwards to Swiss’ chest.

“Not Aether.” He begged meekly, hoping it was enough to deter them.

He felt a strong hand, Mountain he suspected, gently touching his face as he inspected his wounds for severity.

“This horn will need wrapping, but I can do that. And his eyebrow should only need some glue at most. It doesn’t seem deep enough for stitches, it’s just a bleeder is all.”

“I-I can give Aeth a call. Maybe he could drop some glue down to the den?” Rain’s timid voice chirped from somewhere in the doorway.

“Please - “Dew hissed, “ No Aether !”

He’d hate for the quintessence ghoul to see him like this. Aether knew him as the strong spitfire of the group. What would he think if he saw him curled in the arms of his brethren like a wounded kit?

Weakness. Runt.

“But Dew - “ Rain continued.

“No!”

Dew heard Rain whimper, followed by the soothing sound of Mountain’s voice comforting him.

“Leave this to us, Rainy.” the earth ghoul cooed, ”We’ve got him from here.”

“Are you guys sure?”

“Honestly, it’s better if there’s less of us here right now,” Swiss confirmed.

“Can I at least clean up a bit for you?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch my shit!” Dew snapped from his place in Swiss’ arms. He attempted to stand but was overcome with dizziness.

Instead, he cracked open his eyes in time to catch the hurt expression on the water ghoul’s face. His lips were pulled downwards into a frown and his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Dew felt guilt coil in the pit of his stomach and he cursed himself for being so angry.

Why am I like this?

“He doesn’t mean it.” Mountain rose to his feet and pulled the water ghoul into a tight hug. “Why don’t you go and ask Cirrus to help you make us some hot tea?”

“O-okay.” Rain sniffed.

“And why not add some grub too? Something to help line Dew’s stomach.” Swiss added with a slight chuckle.

Mountain ushered Rain out of the bathroom, leaving Dew and Swiss beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. Swiss began to gently rake his fingers through Dew’s hair, his face contorted into an expression that could only be described as pity.

“You need to wash, Dewy.”

“ Hmph .”

“And you’re shivering.”

“ ‘m fine.”

“You’re a fire ghoul, Dewy. You shouldn’t shiver.”

“‘Parently I do…so…”

Swiss sighed and Dew knew he was testing his patience. On any other day, he would bask in this. There was nothing the fire ghoul loved more than causing mischief and playing mind games with his best friend. But even coming down from days of alcohol abuse, Dew knew there was no room for jokes here. No one liked a sad clown after all.

Without warning, Swiss began to pull Dew to his feet. Slow at first, and when the fire ghoul showed cooperation, the momentum continued.

“I’m going to set you up, okay? I just want to get a better look at your head and maybe clean some of this blood.”

Dew winced at the pressure building in his head but allowed the multi-ghoul to manoeuvre him to sit upright on the seat of the toilet. Above him, Swiss busied himself finding a clean cloth to dampen, moving bottles and glass cautiously with his boots. Somewhere beyond the bathroom door Mountain was whispering, but to who, Dew couldn’t make out.

Swiss dropped to his haunches to make a better assessment of the damage. His eyebrows knitted together as he gently patted at the blood caked on Dew’s skin. With only the distant sound of the earth ghoul for company, they fell into a comforting silence, their tails intertwined as an act of comfort.

“Sad to say buddy, but your right horn is fucked.” Swiss uttered, frowning.

Dew nodded his acceptance, focused more on remaining upright than the prospect of life without one of his horns.

“You can live without it, right? Makes you look more badass if you ask me.”

Swiss was trying to make light of the situation and it was painfully obvious. There were so many unspoken things between them, things that weren’t a problem this time last year, things that shouldn’t be a problem now. Dew was angry, he felt abandoned and pushed aside. And, yet, he understood that life moves on and people fall in love. Priorities change and he just hadn’t found his yet. Right?

Maybe Swiss felt it too? The heaviness, the guilt, the anger? Or maybe the current state of the fire ghoul, sorry and broken, was too much for him to bear?

Mountain appeared in the doorway with a blanket slung over his arm and a bottle of water. He exchanged a glance with Swiss, both nodding at some unspoken agreement. Dew’s eyes moved from one ghoul to the other, contemplating the situation. He couldn’t tell if it was the hangover, or the bump to the head, but everything hurt and his mouth tasted like copper.

“Cirrus and Rain brought us tea and something to eat.” Mountain said, his voice hushed and slow, “Can I carry you Dewdrop?”

The giant didn’t wait for a response. Instead, Swiss moved aside and gave him room to scoop the small ghoul into his arms. Dew couldn’t find it in him to protest, his head much too hazy and body much too weak to even attempt it. When they stepped back into his bedroom, the fire ghoul vaguely noticed that the floor had been cleared of all debris, and the stone had even been wiped clear of any blood or feathers.

“You touched my shit…” Dew hissed as Mountain sat him down on freshly changed sheets.

“Yeah, yeah. Here ,” Mountain thrust a bowl of porridge into the fire ghoul’s hands,” Eat this, sparky.”

Dew stared down at the oats and found himself smiling at the berries placed strategically into the shape of a heart. It was so endearing that he almost regretted ruining the careful display with his spoon, but his stomach growled in protest. Once again, he hadn’t realised just how hungry and exhausted he was.

Mountain knelt on his haunches to inspect Dew’s face. His hazel eyes searched the contours and ridges, lingering much too long on the brokenness of the fire ghoul’s left horn and the cut to his eyebrow.

“S’not that bad,” Dew muttered. He dared not look down, his eyes focused exclusively on the corner of his bedroom, rather than risk meeting the ghoul’s beneath him.

“Eat up, please.” Mountain insisted a little more firmly than before. His brows were knitted together in concern and he worried at his bottom lip.

But Dew didn’t dare eat until Mountain was up on his feet again and settling beside him on the solid mattress.

“You’re very lucky we weren’t more persistent with calling Aether, Spark. That horn will never come back in.”

“So Swiss says.” Dew focused on the porridge, “D-did you find the other part?”

Mountain directed Dew’s attention to the dresser. There sat the other piece of his horn, cleaned and sat almost mockingly on top of his box full of hair ties. A sadness pinched at his chest.

“It’s fine. You’ll hurt for a while and you might have a bruise, but you’ll be okay.” Mountain urged, sensing the fire ghoul’s discomfort.

Swiss quietly slinked into the room and took his place in the battered armchair. He nodded briefly to his pack mates before busying himself with tea and a bowl of stew.

They drank and ate their respective snacks in silence, broken only by the howling of the wind or the occasional noise from their pack mates. But even the quiet spoke a thousand words. Dew was painfully aware of the nervous glances shared by the other two ghouls, their ears drawn downwards in an outward display of concern.

“You guys don’t have to stay here.” Dew muttered, “I’m doin’ just fine.”

“Oh yeah. You’re doin’ real well , Dewy.” Swiss scoffed sharply.

Dew felt heat rising from his chest, peeking at the tip of his ears. His best friend’s tone was anything but friendly, and while the fire ghoul understood the root of Swiss’ unpleasantness, he couldn’t help but cower beneath his words.

“Sorry…” Dew whispered, his voice so small it was barely audible.

“Don’t ‘ sorry ’ us, Dewdrop.” Swiss had stopped eating, his face instead pulled into an expression of anger, something seldom seen on the multi-ghoul,” God’s below, I leave you alone for one Yule season and you damn near kill yourself!”

“Swiss -” Mountain warned as he gently squeezed an arm around Dew’s shoulders.

“We get that the holidays are a bad time for you. Mount and I more than anyone understand that.” Swiss continued, his voice breaking and tears sparkling in his eyes. Dew watched as the ghoul’s lips quivered, his stomach turning over in knots with each twitch,” But we can’t watch this anymore. You’re losing it, Dewy, and it’s killing us!”

“Swiss! That’s enough!” Mountain barked pulling Dew close to him,” This is a conversation for another time.”

Instead of arguing, something which Dew very much expected, Swiss took several deep breaths as tears worked their way down his flushed cheeks. Dew could count on one hand the number of times he had witnessed his best friend openly weep, and to think that he was the cause of one such occasion caused his already broken heart to shatter further.

His chest ached. He felt his throat burning and the warming of tears behind his eyes. Then he was weeping too, his face buried into Mountain’s chest as the earth ghoul held him tight against his broad body.

“We love you, man.” Swiss managed through shaky breaths.

Mountain carded his fingers through Dew’s greasy hair, his cheek laid gently against the top of the fire-ghoul’s head.

“It’s true. We all love you, Sparky. All we want to do is help you.”

Dew found himself gripping the fabric of Mountain’s shirt as he brought his full body up onto the earth-ghoul’s lap. He felt like he was drowning in tears and, yet, all he could do was cry. No words came to mind, nor his mouth; just days and weeks of silent memories all wrapped up in heaving sobs.

For a while all that could be heard was the crying of ghouls within Dew’s room, accompanied by the din of the storm outside and the occasional coo of comfort from Mountain. Eventually, Dew uncoiled himself from the giant’s arms, his head blooming with pain and body aching.

Mountain brought his forehead down to meet Dew’s in a comforting bunt, mindful of the wounds. The fire ghoul allowed himself to look into the giant’s hazel eyes, noting the slight puffiness surrounding them.

“Would you like me to stay with you tonight?”

Without hesitation, Dew nodded. He wanted nothing more than to be tucked into the embrace of the gentle earth ghoul. Just like they’d done many times before Copia was Papa, in the front of Terzo’s tour bus. They were some of the most comforting memories he had and he longed to relive them in his time of need.

Dew moved back to the head of his bed and pulled up the duvet. As he slid beneath them, he noted the floral scent of detergent and the softness of the sheets; certainly not his but thankful to whomever they belonged to. The fire ghoul curled up beneath the covers, a purr beginning to settle in his chest as he felt Mountain climb in behind him.

Somewhere in the room Dew could hear Swiss clearing up the dishes. He listened as Cumulus’ soft voice came from the hallway, clearly here to take the cutlery back to the kitchen. But, instead of leaving with his mate, Swiss came to sit beside them on the edge of the mattress.

“Would it be okay if I joined you guys tonight?” He asked almost timidly, as if he were interrupting something he shouldn’t be.

“Please,” Dew answered, shuffling back into Mountain to leave room for his best friend.

Swiss smiled, something Dew had laid eyes on for days and he felt his chest bloom with genuine warmth.

“Thanks, Dewy.” he climbed in, positioning himself in front of Dew where he was better able to bring their foreheads together.

“I promise we won’t leave you again, Sparky.” Mountain purred into Dew’s shoulder, “We’ll always be here for you no matter what.”

With a full belly, a clearer head and within the arms of his ghoul-kin, Dew allowed the tendrils of sleep to pull him ever closer to a dreamless slumber.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

To say Dew’s head felt like thunder was an understatement. Although he awoke between the hollow of both Mountain and Swiss, the fire ghoul felt an incredible weight. His heart was full of love, made possible only by the love of the two creatures who had insisted on sharing his bed, but his stomach was lined with shame and loathing.

He really had done it this time, hadn’t he?

Not only was he to face the wrath of Sister on the first of the new year, but he had pushed away the only pack that had ever treasured and accepted him. Even Papa, a man who tried so hard to play nice, had shown his disappointment.

With a heavy sigh, Dew attempted to untangle himself from the limbs of his bedfellows. Swiss stirred, grumbling under his breath about nothing in particular, while Mountain protested with a low, guttural growl.

“Stay, Sparky. There’s plenty of time ahead of us.” The earth ghoul purred, his voice steeped in slumber.

Dew was going to ignore him and continue his crusade to crawl into the shower to wash away his shame, but Mountain gently wrapped a hand around his wrist, pulling him back towards the space between he and Swiss.

“Please, little spark. Come back to bed.”

Who was Dew to deny the giant further? After all, there was no telling how much longer he had with them on the surface after his meeting with Imperator.

With only residual reluctance, he settled back beneath the comforter, cuddling into the space against Mountain’s chest. The earth ghoul curled his arms around Dew’s small body and rested his head into the hollow of his shoulder.

“So warm.” Mountain whispered, his breath tickling the fire ghoul’s neck,”’ missed cuddling you like this, Sparky.”

Dew didn’t answer, he just allowed himself to purr softly. His shame couldn’t outplay the joy he felt at being held again, especially in the large arms of his favourite earth spirit. And to have his best friend lay on his other side, forehead to forehead? It felt like a dream if it weren’t for the persistent ache behind his eyes reminding him of his week-long binge.

It wasn’t long before they fell back into a deep slumber, intertwined within each other’s bodies. Cumulus was the one to rouse them several hours later with the gesture of coffee and multiple rounds of toasted nut loaf.

“It’s a pity to break up such a precious scene.” She smiled as she offered a steaming mug to her mate, “But it’s almost ten thirty and I know how Mountain hates to sleep in so late.”

“Thank you, Lus.” The earth ghoul said, reaching for his and Dew’s respective mugs.

Cumulus had been meticulous in her preparation of their morning beverages, going so far as to ensure it was prepared in Dew’s favourite mug; black with a little cartoon devil and the slogan ‘ Sometimes I even Scare Myself ’. The fire-ghoul wrapped his hands around the porcelain and felt a smile tug at the edges of his lips for the first time in what felt like months.

“Thanks.” He uttered, his eyes meeting the air ghoul’s baby blues only briefly. He found himself scared to linger for fear of what he might find; Would it be worry or pity?

Cumulus settled herself next to Swiss, now sitting at the foot of the bed practically inhaling his breakfast. She took the time to offer some of the loaf to Dew, only to be met with a curt shake of the fire ghoul’s head. Before she could insist, however, Mountain stepped in. He took four slices, two for himself and two for Dew, and balanced them on his knee, well within the fire ghoul’s reach.

“I slaved over this nut loaf for a day and a half just to get the right amount of cinnamon and raisins.” Mountain warned, “I’ll be deeply offended if you don’t eat it!”

“Better chow down or suffer the wrath of our resident kitchen witch!” Swiss joked, waving a finger in Dew’s direction.

Dew forced a chuckle and decided that it was easier to give in and eat than to fight back against his ghoul-kin. Especially those who played such a crucial role within his inner circle. He began to break the toasted bread into small pieces, ignoring how Cumulus protested the crumbs littering the sheets and began to eat. And eat. And eat. Until there was nothing left and yet his stomach begged for more.

He was onto his fourth slice before Mountain stopped him.

“Maybe that’s enough Dew. You’ve not eaten a lot of over the last few days and we don’t want to be dealing with a stomach ache.”

“No, not with the ritual tonight,” Cumulus added.

Dew’s heart fell. He’d forgotten about the ritual. He felt the familiar prick of anxiety blooming across his scalp and down his spine. There was no way he could face the full force of his pack, let alone hundreds of sisters and brothers of sin. Even masked, he knew it would feel like all eyes were on him for missing the Yule celebration. Especially the beady, wretched stare of Sister.

His empty mug safely set to the side, Dew was free to bury his head in his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.

“ Fuck. I forgot about the ritual.” He groaned into his palms.

Dew felt Mountain stretch an arm around his shoulders, and the touch of one of his other ghoul-kin upon his ankle. From the tepid, dainty fingers, he knew it was Cumulus.

“It’ll be alright, sweety. I’m sure it’s just like any other ritual.” The air ghoul cooed softly.

“No, it won’t! I missed the last one and everyone’s going to stare because they know I’m fucked -”

“Don’t be silly. No one will even know.”

“That bitch is going to banish me to the pit tomorrow and she’s probably told everyone!” Dew cried. He carded his hands through his hair roughly, brittle strands breaking away between his fingers.

Cumulus looked from the fire ghoul to his comrades, her ears pinned against her head and features etched with concern.

“Let us handle this, Lus.” Swiss whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek, “Why don’t you go hang out with the others, yeah? We’ve got this.”

Wordlessly, Cumulus patted Dew’s knee before gathering the dishes and leaving the room. All the while, Dew attempted to catch his breath while Mountain hugged him closely against his side.

“What’s happened, Dewy?” Swiss asked.

Dew curled inwards against the earth ghoul, his arms tucked tightly against his chest and fangs biting into his closed fist. Swiss reached forward and gently pulled the marred hand from the fire ghoul’s mouth.

“What do you mean that Sister is going to banish you tomorrow? Is this about your chat with Papa?”

“Y-yes.” Dew choked, “I-I missed the Yule ritual.”

A look of realisation flashed across Swiss’ face, and somewhere above Dew, Mountain let out a soft but audible gasp.

“Oh.” Was all the multi-ghoul could say, his mouth rounded into the shape of the syllable and remaining so for some time as he chose his next words.

“She won’t banish you, Sparky,” Mountain interjected. He soothed the fire-ghoul with a broad hand stroking up and down his back, “You’re much too special to send down below.”

“Yeah, Dew! He’s right! Why would they put you through your transition only to banish you for one slip-up?” Swiss agreed enthusiastically.

“Papa made it clear that all ghouls, especially those involved in the current Ghost project, are expected to attend key rituals throughout the year. You can’t just miss one and get away with it.” Dew whined in protest. He didn’t want to be coddled over this, nor did he want excuses or his hopes to be renewed. This was a monster of his own making.

“I’m sure it won’t be without consequence, Dew. But banishment? That’s a bit far, don’t you think?” Mountain cooed, placing a soft kiss on the top of the fire ghoul’s head, “Why don’t I go with you tomorrow? I’d be more than happy to fight your corner.”

Dew felt like a kit again hiding behind his mother’s legs as their pack alpha raged about his behaviour. It was a helpless feeling steeped in thick, shameful undertones. The last thing he wanted was to be transported back to a place where he needed saving, and for his foolish actions no less.

“It’s my fault,” He sniffed,” and I need to accept the punishment no matter what it is. I can’t always have you guys or, Satan-forbid, Papa coming to my aid.”

“I insist, my little spark.” the earth-ghoul pulled Dew close enough to bunt their foreheads together “We’re a pack, and we face things as one. And I’d very much like to be the voice of this little family if you’ll allow it.”

Dew briefly glanced at Swiss who nodded his approval.

“But Papa will be there too.”

“The more the merrier.”

Dew briefly glanced at Swiss who nodded his approval.

“A-alright.”

“Mountain and Papa will do right by you, Dewy. You’ve got nothing to worry about except for maybe a few extra chores. That’s it.” Swiss said, reaching forward to rub circles into Dew’s shoulder, “We’ve got you, man.”

If he were entirely honest with himself, the fire ghoul felt relieved. He knew that Mountain would bring a calming presence and that Papa would do anything to protect his ghouls, Dew included. For the first time since Yule began, hope was breaking through the dark canopy he’d become buried beneath.

“I-I don’t know how I can repay you guys for this. I’ve been nothing but an asshole the last few days.” Dew sniffed as he uncoiled himself from Moutain’s grasp to sit back against his headboard.

“You can get yourself cleaned up for a start,” Swiss laughed,” And then join us for a cuddle pile before the ritual tonight. I’m pretty sure Cirrus and Sunshine had a movie planned for us before dinner tonight.”

“And you haven’t even experienced the fire this year. It’s always your favourite.” Mountain added.

Dew thought about the pleasure of hot coals in his hands and the smell of charred wood lingering in the air. The image of his ghoul-kin spread across their living room, each wrapped in their blankets and various fabrics brought a smile to the edges of his lips. Satan, how he had missed them over the last few days.

“Will there be hot chocolate?” De asked.

Swiss and Mountain shared a chuckle.

“Are you kidding, dude? There’s always hot chocolate.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The pack welcomed Dew into their fold with open arms. He fell into each of them, accepting their touch as if no time had passed. It was as if he hadn’t spent the better part of a week screaming profanities through a door and isolating himself from their love. As Dew moved from ghoul to ghoul, each one bunting their forehead with his and emitting soft purrs, he couldn’t help but think about how, exactly , he had come to deserve such a wonderful group of friends.

No. Family.

They insisted on making Dew a plate of leftovers and even allowed him to pick their first movie of the afternoon. It wasn’t until Dew laid eyes on the nest that Phantom and Rain had carefully curated for him that he found himself fighting back tears.

The ghouls took it in turns to curl up next to Dew. Phantom was first, falling asleep five minutes into ‘ Die Hard ’, his head on Dew’s chest. He was followed by Rain who took over mid-way through, also succumbing to the whispers of sleep. All the while, Cumulus sat behind the fire ghoul as she brushed and braided his hair, readying him for the ritual tonight. It was only when they began their second movie, a musical chosen by Sunshine, that Mountain took to the floor and pulled Dew in between his legs. The smaller ghoul purred as the giant held him tightly, their fingers intertwining. It was finally Dew’s turn to fall asleep, his body curled against Moutains and a piece of smouldering coal in his mouth.

It felt like mere minutes had passed when the fire ghoul was being gently awoken by Mountain carrying him to his bedroom.

“I’m afraid it’s time to get ready for the ritual.” The giant cooed softly so as not to startle the stirring ghoul too much.

Dew buried his head in Mountain’s shirt, taking in his scent and treasuring it. His meeting with Imperator was front and center in his mind, anxiety crawling through his body and settling deep within his stomach. The giant’s scent may be all he has left after tomorrow’s meeting, and he wanted to file it safely away within his memories.

Mountain placed him gently on the floor and instructed him to start getting into his uniform. The earth ghoul had already laid the garments out on the bed next to his own, and they both began to ready themselves for the evening ahead. They helped each other with complicated buckles, and unruly buttons and Mountain even worked to secure Dew’s braids beneath his helmet.

“It feels like no time has passed since we were getting ready to stand before thousands of on stage next to Copia,” Dew remarked as Mountain adjusted the skull-shaped woggle of his neckerchief.

“That’s because it hasn’t.” The earth ghoul chuckled.

“What - what if I never get to do it again?”

“Dew -” Mountain placed his hands on Dew’s shoulders, his eyes boring into the fire ghoul’s through the glass of his googles, “You will. Papa will make sure of it. Please try to set that aside for tonight and let’s go enjoy the first footing, yeah?”

With a slight nod and a soft response, Dew allowed Mountain to guide him to the living area where the rest of the pack was waiting on them. The giant’s hand never left Dew’s shoulder, the warmth and slight squeeze of his fingers creating a comforting aura. But no amount of comfort could shift the catastrophising from building in the fire ghoul’s mind.

This could be the last time they all sit together in mass. Or the last night he has to spend with his pack. What if this were the last chance he had to see the other ghoul-kin he had come to know and love from around the ministry? Dew swallowed thick, acidic bile as his stomach flipped and churned.

It was Phantom running into the room, neckerchief barely intact and mask in his hand, that broke the fire ghoul from his spiral. He watched on as Swiss got to work on straightening their younger member out.

“Are we all ready to go?” The multi ghoul asked as he tightened the straps on Phantom’s waistcoat.

With resounding agreement and a ‘ let’s go ghouls ’ from Cirrus, the pack made their way to the ministry chapel. All the while, Mountain’s hand never left Dew’s shoulder. And as they slid into their designated pew, it instead came to rest around his own, the calloused thumb softly caressing the fire ghoul’s knuckles.

The chapel slowly filled around them, siblings, ghoul-kin and clergy all piling in to take their seats. There was a steady haze of chattering, some stopping to talk to the pack and exchange well wishes for the year to come. Swiss stretched himself over the pews to shake hands with Aether, Omega and Alpha, while Mountain nodded towards his greenhouse group situated at the back of the hall. All the while Dew sunk closer to the giant’s side, his grip on the earth ghoul’s hand growing steadily tighter.

The din of the organ created a silence across the hall signalling the beginning of mass. Papa, adorned in his robes and swinging the incense-filled thurble, made his way up the center of the pews, followed closely by Papa Primo, Secundo and Terzo, each wearing their own vestments.

Dew watched on as the clergyman passed off his instruments to one of the siblings and took his rightful place at the pulpit. It was there that Copia took a second to glance across the hall, his hands outstretched and face stoic. Only when his eyes landed on Dew and his fellow pack did a soft smile pinch at the corners of his lips.

“Good evening siblings, ghouls and esteemed members of the clergy. Welcome to our annual first-footing mass.” the clergyman announced in his heavy Italian accent, “I am most happy to see you all here tonight, ready to step together into the new year. I promise I will not keep you long as I am sure many of you wish to party and the like. But I would like to take some time this evening to talk about reflection during the yule season, si ?”

Dew’s ears perked up beneath the mask as Papa’s eyes, once again, met his among the crowd. Beside him, Mountain renewed his grip on the fire ghoul’s hand.

“Yule can be a time for joy and celebration. We come together as one to show our love and devotion, not only to each other but to our dark lord. But, i miei fratelli e sorelle , it is also important to remember that there are those of us that find Yule to be very difficult. Grief, loneliness, illness; there are so many reasons why one may struggle. And what happens when we are in pain, mio amicos ? We become angry and sad, and we might even push away the ones who treasure us the most.”

Papa’s words cut through Dew’s chest like a knife. He knew that the sermon was meant for everyone, but the ghoul couldn’t help but feel that it was written with him in mind. And then there was the way the clergyman’s eyes kept lingering on he and his pack, a subtle smile dimpling his cheeks. With every word, Dew found himself having to fight back tears, not wanting to be found crying in a room full of his kin.

“While we may feel lost in the darkness,” Copia continued, “We must remember the light around us. It comes in many forms, mio amicos . It can be found in our friends and family, in the small joy of a warm fire or cup of cocoa, in the animals we keep as pets and even the smell of freshly baked cookies, something I very much enjoy.” Papa chuckled, patting his stomach. A soft laugh resounded through the church, “No matter how bleak things feel, we must reflect on and remember those who have helped us survive such darkness. We must remember those that are no longer with us, and honor them by moving forward, forever holding them close within our memories. The first footing, while largely about new beginnings, is also about remembering the path we have taken to get here. As we close our sermon for this evening and go our separate ways, I want you all as siblings and ghouls alike to reflect on yourselves. Look how far you have all come. Look at the challenges you have faced and conquered. The light is awaiting us in this new unfolding year and it is up to us to move boldly towards it.”

Copia stood forward in front of the pulpit and raised his arms to the side. He welcomed members of the congregation to begin their countdown to the new year. Behind him, the ornate Monstrance clock, its dark wood ordained in a mixture of gold and silvers, ticked down to midnight.

Mountain pulled Dew up to stand alongside the rest of the attendees. The giant slung his arm around the fire ghoul’s shoulder as he joined in with the countdown. Cumulus curled into Swiss’ side, Rain pulled Phantom close to him and Sunshine and Cirrus held their hands high to the sky. Celebration erupted around them all as the clock struck midnight and, in a whirlwind, Mountain pulled Dew into a tight hug.

“Happy new year, little spark.” He whispered from beneath his mask.

Dew, caught in a flurry of emotion, didn’t respond. He didn’t so much as return the hug. This was it, a new year and a new chance. If he survived his meeting with the sister tomorrow, he swore, there in the unholy place of his dark lord, that things were going to change. This was the last year he spent wallowing in his self-pity when he should have been in the loving embrace of his pack.

Dew felt another one of his pack curl themselves around his back, and then another to his side, and soon the entire pew was wrapped around the pair. They purred into each other’s bodies, a melody of their love and devotion to not only the fire ghoul but each other.

They didn’t stay like that for long, too much excitement for the night ahead, but as the other ghouls slowly untethered themselves, Dew felt a helmet bunt against his.

“We love you Dew, never forget that,” Swiss whispered, before patting him strongly on the back and retreating to join the remainder of their kin.

Mountain, of course, was the last to let go. He brought his firm, weather-worn hands up to cup either side of Dew’s mask.

“You’ve always got us to turn to. As long as we’re top-side, we’ll be here for you.”

“You guys are too good to me.” Dew choked out, his voice marred by the tears caught in his throat.

From behind them, Swiss cleared his throat as he readied himself to rally the troops.

“Alright, guys!” The multi-ghoul bellowed, determined to get his evening started,” I think it’s time to celebrate! Who’s joining me for the party in B wing?”

Dew didn’t hear through a chorus of replies, but he was willing to bet Rain was front and centre, followed closely by Cirrus and Sunshine, both notorious for a celebration. Cumulus, however, would only attend to keep Swiss under control, while Phantom would opt out, choosing to be somewhere quieter.

All the while Dew, who would normally be jumping at the chance to crash a party, was more than happy to share an evening with Mountain. No matter the activities, they’d be happy together.

The pack began to mix in with the crowd, chattering to other kin and siblings as they went, each wishing the other a happy new year and discussing their plans for the evening. Mountain and Dew lingered behind, taking their time instead of pushing their way to the chapel doors. Around them, the space gradually cleared until the hall was left with only a few stray siblings and clergy-folk. It was then, as they moved slowly towards the ornate double doors that they were met by Copia and Phantom. The little quint gently patted Dew’s shoulder and nodded his head in a silent act of acknowledgement. But Copia all but engulfed him in his arms, bringing his painted forehead to softly bunt between the horns of Dew’s helmet. It was a habit he’d picked up from years of watching the ghouls interact and the pack always appreciated the familiar gesture.

“Dew, diavolino ,” Copia took Dew’s hands within his own, one on top of the other, “I am very glad to see you here tonight. I was becoming worried that you would not make it.”

“I-I couldn’t possibly miss it.” He tried to laugh it off, tried not to show the wretched feeling of anxiety and shame coiling inside him.

“And how have you been?”

Dew contemplated his answer. He couldn’t fool the man, that much was apparent, but there were some aspects of the last few days that he’d rather not share with the Papa. Not here in the crowded ritual hall, nor the privacy of a confessional.

“I’m much better now, and just want to get tomorrow’s meeting over with.”

Moutainatin squeezed Dew’s shoulder, a small, silent gesture of support.

“Ah, si. Domani .” Copia sighed, “Worry not, diavolino . I will be there to fight in your corner. Sister and I have already had quite the discussion, and while she is as wicked as always on the subject of rules and regulations, she is willing to hear your side.”

“And I will be there too if it’s not too much to ask Papa,” Mountain added.

“Of course, amico . You are more than welcome.”

“ Grazie. ”

They discussed further details, such as the time of the hearing and what to wear, before Papa bid Dew and the earth ghoul goodnight. Around them, the crowd had already begun to dissipate, including their fellow pack members. After saying their goodbyes to other siblings and ghoul kin, both Mountain and Dew began to make their way back to the den.

The moon was high, covered slightly by clouds and flutters of snow as it fell softly to the ground. Their walk was steeped largely in a comfortable silence. A silence only found in two old friends who had long since passed their awkwardness. The only sound was the scuff of their shoes against the flagstones and the distance chatter of siblings and ghouls heading off to celebrate.

“Sounds like they’re off to have some fun.” Dew chuckled, referring to the squeals of delight emitted by a pack of siblings off to do Satan-knows-what in their dorms.

“It does.” Mountain answered,” Perhaps we should have some fun too? It might help you relax before tomorrow?”

Beneath his helmet, Dew raised an eyebrow at the earth-ghoul’s suggestion.

“What had you in mind?”

Read the rest here

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crossdressingdeath · 2 years

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Cullen: What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. Cullen: He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. I despise him for it. Cullen: And yet he fought as a Warden, joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. Cullen: And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?

See this? This right here encapsulates the number one issue with Cullen's so-called redemption in DAI. He doesn't understand why someone who had escaped the consequences of his actions would turn around and own up to it. He can't comprehend that someone who'd gotten away with atrocities might want to face punishment for what they did. He is incapable of grasping that Blackwall wants to be punished because he recognizes that he deserves punishment. And that's what makes everything about Cullen's so-called redemption ring hollow, because Cullen? Cullen doesn't face up to what he did. He doesn't recognize that maybe feeling a little bad isn't enough to make up for the suffering he caused others. He thinks that a man who's managed to run away from the consequences of his actions deserves to get off scot free. Blackwall has a line earlier in this quest where he says that a single moment of bravery (in his case saving his second-in-command from the noose at the cost of his own freedom) isn't enough to absolve him of what he did; Cullen's total bafflement at Blackwall willingly going to the noose for his crimes makes it clear he thinks it is. Cullen thinks that stepping in and stopping Meredith from killing Hawke means that everything else he did, nine years of being Meredith's good little lapdog and running her death squads and attacking his own recruits on the charge of having sympathy for mages, has been made up for. He thinks one good deed means he doesn't have to feel bad about everything he's done leading up to that point. And he doesn't understand why someone else who's done terrible things and professes to feel bad for it the same way he does wouldn't think that way. Blackwall fought tooth and nail to escape his past, and then when he finally did found that he couldn't live with himself if he kept running from it; Cullen doesn't grasp how Blackwall could still be that full of guilt after getting away with it. And I don't agree with Blackwall's argument that Morney was a good man following orders and shouldn't be punished, Morney looked at a carriage full of children and still said "Yep, clearly killing these kids is The Right Thing To Do" (if anything he's more deserving of being hanged, since Blackwall at least didn't know there were children present until it was too late), but Blackwall still decided that he could not turn his back on his past crimes, not because he'd gotten caught but because it would be unjust of him to do so. Cullen doesn't. Cullen never accepts responsibility for his actions (see how quick he is to pass the blame off to Meredith even though in DA2 we see that he was an active part of what she was doing right up to the very last minute) and never even suggests that he ought to be judged for it. Cullen doesn't understand why Blackwall would accept the consequences of his actions because Cullen thinks that he deserves to get away with everything he's ever done because some demons treated him the way he treated mages that one time, and also he totally feels bad about being Meredith's loyal second for nine years, just ignore how he still clearly thinks mages don't deserve rights. Why does Blackwall own up to his crimes the moment he's free of them? Because he's a good man who couldn't bear the thought of continuing to let others pay the price for what he did. And Cullen can't see that.

Also, I can't help but notice that when asked his opinion, Cullen only talks about Blackwall's men and how he betrayed them. The innocents killed over coin, the children slaughtered just because they were there? Cullen doesn't breathe a word about them outside of his initial summary of the incident. No, all that Cullen cares about is the men who Blackwall supposedly "betrayed", as if they were incapable of looking at the terrified children in that carriage and saying "No, this is wrong and I won't do it". The only part of the whole affair that they didn't know about was that Blackwall gave that order for money, and none of them so much as thought that maybe they should ask their captain about the children he didn't mention when he gave the order before cutting them down. And those are the people who Cullen cares about. Cullen despises Blackwall for "betraying" the men who knew they were slaughtering children when they did it, not for the children who died on his order. Says a lot about him, doesn't it?

#dragon age inquisition #cullen critical

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girlcalledwhatsername · 1 year

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Other people have talked about it before but genuinely I'm so tired of seeing history rewritten wrt Queerness in India. Seems like once the dust settled on 377 people (including scholars!) want to act like homophobia and transphobia was never an "Indian problem" to begin with.

Section 377 which criminalised any sexual activity "against the order of nature" (and has since been taken down in 2018) was introduced by the British government when they colonised India. Yes, that is true.

There are depictions of queerness (and things that can be stretched to be interpreted as queer) in Hindu mythology and in a few (FEW, very few) temples. This is also true.

However scholars looking to sound progressive by co-opting the language of post-colonialism have created a living myth of an India that was naturally welcome to queer people, was consequitively corrupted by the Naturally Conservative British People, and has fought as some unified front of Indian Society (against who?) to get the progressiveness back and ridding our glorious country of the Western Evil of Section 377. And let me just include that a lot of these scholars are either upper caste Hindus in Indian universities or non-resident Indians/ people of Indian descent in other nations who have been severely out of touch with the struggles at home.

These kind of perspectives completely erase 1) how very conservative, queerphobic (for lack of a better word), and misogynistic Indian society at large and Hindu values in particular still are and 2) the actual struggle of queer people to get the rights we have today and the ones we are still fighting tooth and nail for.

It seems to be a perspective that happily wishes to forget uncountable cases of conversion therapy, conversion rape, honour killings, and abuse in the name of our "sanskar" (values that are v specifically culturally lifted out of Hindu thought and texts). It happily forgets that depictions of goddesses exist in this culture right alongside tales of grave violence to women who step out of line - these depictions aren't "representation". Vishnu being born in a particular incarnation as a woman is not trans rep. The Hijra community being considered "auspicious" is not trans rep, that's a highly marginalised group that is spurned and locked out of employment and othered away from communities at all times except when they are used tokenistically to assure ourselves that they bring with them some sort of higher blessings. Meanwhile all the good from the NALSA Judgement (like the very basic right of trans people to self identification) has been stripped away by the Trans Act.

Hinduism is not a beacon of progressiveness. And with Hindutva and authoritarianism on the rise in our country this is a very dangerous perspective to align oneself with. Hatred for queerness, hatred for women with agency, hatred for anything that escapes the norms of caste and class - these aren't External British Evils that we as some vague idea of 'Indians' have gotten together to bravely defeat. These were always an awful part of our culturally Hindu (and nominally secular) society and they continue to be a part of it. It's not in the past. The struggle is still here and it was always queer people, dalits, women, and other marginalised groups leading liberation movements against great backlash from our fellow citizens.

Don't erase those struggles and don't erase the pervasiveness of this bigotry as it still exists today. A nationalistic rewriting of history that gives you something to be proud of is not worth losing these fights all over again. It is certainly not worth acting like we were always safe here.

#desi #desi tag #conversion therapy #rape mention #queerphobia #transphobia #homophobia #hindutva #religion #india #indian politics #queer #academia #problems with academics #if you wanna see the despicable call for papers that inspired this post feel free to DM me and I'll show you what academia is doing to us!

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eternal-smiles · 2 months

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Here are their parents! With what the teens and the two will be facing ;w; first! By order! And Otsana’s wolf appearance. Also: I had no idea what background to make, so I had to borrow a background from Ibis Paint X ;w;

Both Nicole’s and Alden’s backstory are tied with their children’s. I will skipping to their •Now sections. All expect Otsana’s.

—————————————————————

Characters Time

•Nicole Edric Alonso (or Sophie Ramirez)

Age: 39

Origins: Texas USA

•Now

Once she awoke into the Ministry, she waisted no time as she fought tooth and nail to escape.. unfortunately she was outnumbered and quickly immobilized to fight back. That’s when she met a silver haired woman, wearing a lab coat and yellow eyes looking down at Nicole, but in all honesty, Nicole was scared of course…but she really didn’t care who this “Scientist” was. All that she can think of is getting out and finding her sons, but the woman in front of her had other plans.

The other woman ripped Nicole’s left sleeve off as she injected her with the Joy Serum. Screaming in pain as Nicole headbutts one of the Doctors and fought off more… but the more she resisted them, that’s when she felt both her body and mind in a great agony. Collapsing on the ground as Nicole began to hold herself from the pain she felt, the world spinning around her while something began to claw into her mind… a sickening false emotion… Joy?… no, this can’t be right!

Now panting in pain as she looked up to see a blurry figure walked to her and more followed, the last thing she saw was the same silver haired woman. Smiling down at her and eyes flashed like fire… hearing a voice trying to comfort her while trying to make her forget everything from her past, especially trying to erase her name…

Yet for Nicole, she can easily hear and see the lies from what this voice is trying to tell her. Instantly rejecting it as she remembered her late husband… and her sons. Causing her anger to grow, but the voice intensified… trying to bring her down into submission, but that only gave fuel to an angry fire. Finding her strength to get up and tried to headbutt to who ever is trying to force her under…

Waking up to see she rammed her head onto the Silver Haired woman. Yet she heard what sounded like a dog growling angrily, it was unfortunately fast and a blur… Nicole looked up to see yellow eyes glaring down at her. As she heard a new command echoing in Nicole’s skull…

“Sleep…”

Causing her to blackout… unaware what happened and what she saw. As a few hours passed she awoke to find herself in a cell and her arm covered in bandages. Still feeling a terrible illness coursing through her body and still clawing her mind… but that’s when someone called out to her…

•Alden Belig Belle

Age: 44

Origins: England UK

•Now

A day before Nicole arrived, Alden suffered a great torment. Not only injected with the Joy Serum, but was dragged through a room full of gas. Laughing Gas, and yet the man didn’t budge due to not wanting to give his captures the satisfaction… but he wasn’t prepared for the next one. Thanks to the Serum and Gas, he felt his mind crumbling along with his willpower.. that’s when he met… her.

A silver haired woman, her hair stained with yellow and gray on the ends of her hair… but Alden felt a horrible aura out of her… but he doesn’t know what…or why… but he soon find out why. He was dragged by the guards as they followed the woman to a darken room with only the moonlight to illuminate. Now thrown into isolation with the woman, Alden used his remaining strength to push himself away from the MOJ Scientist but that’s when he noticed her eyes… glowing under the moonlight as the air felt heavy for the man.

Especially… his eye lids?… The more he looked at her, the more he felt himself going under some sort of spell… and he was. The woman got close to Alden as he continued to resist her power…but it wasn’t enough. As he slipped into the abyss… echoes of her words trying to force him to forget both his old life and name… but there was one thing he’s holding onto for dear life, his daughter and his late wife. The day he met Mary, their marriage , and learning he’ll be a father, while also remembering Eleanor was born as he held her close and lovingly, to now… supporting her through the most challenging times he and his daughter are still going through.. He can’t leave her, and she’s all he has left!

He was able to resist the woman and tackled her… but she didn’t budge… he hit something fluffy, and now very angry. He was smacked away to the wall, looking up to see a taller figure with pointed ears, teeth, claws, and a tail… but the eyes. They were intense as he heard one final command in his mind…

“Sleep…”

And just like that, he fell into slumber….

He awoke to find himself back in a familiar cell… growling angrily and feeling his head in pain, trying to remember what happened but it was all hazy. Now steadily getting up to look around, until spotting a different woman in a separate cell. It was Nicole.

Both him and her discuss a plan to escape. He and Nicole need to return to their children, and will fight their way to get back to them… little did they know, their children are also on a mission to save them.

•Otsana Felix Risa

Age: 42

Origins: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

Her past and origins are unknown to the advocates, employees, scientists, agents, and guards. Except the higher ups in the Ministry, all that was known is that she appeared to the Ministry wounded but full of purpose. The rest has been classified to prevent worry from spreading.

In her time in the ministry, she has gone through training of the Marmalisation to build up an understanding of what she is getting into and what branch she wishes to join. While at the same time, having gone through Marmalisation to also understand what it’s like… and to lock something within herself away.

Out of all of Five Sections, Otsana chose the Hypnotiser. Even studied science to test and under medically to use her Joy Serum syringes, but to also use them on herself… She held a secret from everyone except the Ministry, that she is a Werewolf or a Dogman from where she use to come from when she used to live at ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️. Thankfully with the Ministry’s help, she was able to tame her beast-self and use her strength and power to aid the Ministry’s goal.

After her time and training, it truly paid off as she is now head of the Hypntoiser section, mixing it with her beastly abilities it can be potent enough for three days of the full moon, all couldn’t resist… all except two. Otsana heard a new Advocate named Alden has been brought into the Sanctuary, and her assistance has been required. She brought him alone to fully marmlise him or at least break him down further. While Alden was put under, she formed into beast to make sure Alden is fully submitted… but Otsana was surprised to see him resisted and tried to tackle her… that alone made her angry.

Bashing him into a wall and use her hypnosis to put the man to sleep, as well making him forget what he saw and tried to fight against. Sighing heavily as she returns to human form… strange, this is the first time. Ordering the guards to put him in the holding cells, planning to figure out a plan to make sure Alden is fully Marmalized.

However, her interest spiked as she heard not only a new Advocate has been sent to the Sanctuary, thus wanted to see if she can help break the new subject’s will… but she is in for a surprise.

Using hypnosis again to break Nicole’s will, only to witness a rage wild fire refusing to fall… just like Alden. It didn’t help that her skull clashed with Nicole’s, causing the scientist to fully form out of anger and putting Nicole to sleep as well.

After that scuffle, she sighs as she went to recover from being headbutted and allowed the Ministry to Marmalise her to ease her anger, but that’s when Otsana heard a group of Trouble Makers entered in with a storm…

•Now

Otsana now aids the Ministry in locating and capture the teens. Yet she noticed something from the brothers that formed a new type of Joyful Energy. Seeing the two use their instruments to form their new attacks and defenses, unaware what their goal truly is… being extremely impressed that two people were able to form access from what they love doing.

As she studied the two more and more. Otsana had her eyes on Tobias, due to learning the boy is going into the early stages of Marmalisation after consuming the park goods. Now forming a plan how to pick off the group, and since they are still young with developing brains… she and the Ministry are able to Marmalise them with no issue.

Ordering everyone to capture any one of them, but her main interest is Toby. Thus, her hunt begins to capture the teens and Ein… but during her hunt, both Alden and Nicole are planning an escape of their own…

Otsana is surprisingly very sweet to her fellow MOJ colleagues and fully Marmalized Advocates. Yet she will get snippy if one of the higher ups calls her “Pup” due to being a beast, and she will become scary to those who are resisting to be Marmalized.

—————————————————————

I deeply apologize if my writing became sloppy here. I still hope you all enjoy my work! My next part of my story will be released ether today or tomorrow. For now, hope you all enjoy and have a awesome day!

#the smiler #the smiler oc #the smiler alton towers #ministry of joy #the ministry of joy #alton towers #smiling advocate #eternal echoes #eternal smiles #writing hurts

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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Another Last Light checkin, this time with Wulbren and his gnome buddies, who also made it here safe.

"Hm? Oh, you made it. Well done."

He sounds thoroughly disinterested, which is a bit of a downer given that we kinda liked him back in Moonrise. He spends this whole conversation being kind of dismissive of Hector; now that he's back on his own feet, clearly he's feeling his confidence again.

"Any problems sailing here?"

"Steering a boat is hardly a challenge. And this place is near a beacon in the darkness."

Hector is doing his best not to get irritated by the fact that, after sharing such a dark experience as the escape from Moonrise, Wulbren is basically acting like he doesn't know him. "What will you do when you get out of here?" he asks evenly.

"I have plans in Baldur's Gate," Wulbren says, puffing out his chest. "The work of many years labor that will finally bear fruit. YOu should look for me once we're in the city. The name Wulbren Bongle will be mentioned among many, I've little doubt."

Hector's lips twitch with a flash of amusement. "You're quite confident in yourself, aren't you?" he says, tone deliberately neutral.

"If you'd accomplished half of what the Ironhand Gnomes have, you would be too," Wulbren answers sharply.

Hector raises an eyebrow. "What part do you play in the Ironhand Gnomes?"

"I am more than a part," Wulbren says, folding his arms stolidly. "I am its oil and gears. I am its purpose - its leader. We are inventors of the highest order, matched perhaps but never surpassed by the Gondians at the High House of Wonders." He pauses, scowls. "But our forebears were foolish - complicit with Sarevok's madness over a century past, and so we were banished. Still are to this day."

*record scratch* Wait, what?

It's clear at this point (based on what I've been told and also what the game is showing us) that this game ties much more directly to the plot of BG1/BG2 than I was initially aware. However, it still brings me up short every time something gets referenced, and all my senses go on alert. :P

Wulbren's ancestors worked with Sarevok. That...seems concerning.

"Sarevok?" Hector asks, because he is a smart boy and a history nerd and knows these things. "The Bhaalspawn?"

"The very same," Wulbren says bitterly. "It's the only mistake the Ironhand Gnomes ever made - and it cost us everything. I've fought tooth and nail to restore our reputation, particularly against Gondian detractors who live in glass houses. Our return to Baldur's Gate will usher in a new era for the Ironhand Gnomes. The realm deserves the benefit of our genius."

His voice has risen in pitch and energy as he speaks. It's clear that - however blunt his manner - all his passion lies in this one goal, and Hector can't help but admire his confidence.

"I'll leave you to your own devices," he says mildly.

"Appreciate it," says Wulbren curtly, and turns and walks away.

Thanks, I guess. :/

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #bg1 reference! *airhorn*

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chemical-killjoy · 2 months

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Morning Light

Chapter 4

(previous chapter here, my masterlist has all chapters under the Remington section <3)

Vampire Remington x fem reader

Word Count: 650

Warnings: brief mentions of kidnapping, general death, violence and vampire-making

Summary: Sebastion knows more information that he lets on...

Author's Note: Sorry this has taken me so so SO long to update!!! Me and @smiling-girl have both been super busy, but I'll try to get back on track <3 thank you again @fedorable-killjoys for this amazing collage!

Sebastian sat by the fire at his favourite bistro. The smell of the leather couch under him and the whisky in his hands both calmed him, but the fire reflected memories in his eyes.

He was grateful he was alone tonight.

How long had it been since he had seen Y/N’s face?? A hundred years, at least. Not since Guinevere. No, he couldn’t think about that. It wasn’t the 1700s anymore. It was the 2020s. He was safe. His brothers were safe. That dark night couldn’t touch them anymore.

But the truth was Y/N wasn’t safe. Just as Gwen wasn’t. If only he could go back.

Rain poured alongside the blood, and thunder covered the sounds of screams. If he had taken the deal, it would have worked in his favour. There would be one less body.

The night had started simply.

The doors to the manor opened up as men in cloaks burst through.

They were silent, all black figures. But the man in the center, a foot taller than the others, was recognised by Sebastian. Both knew the cloak was unnecessary. But then what was this all for if not a little showmanship?

“You’ve taken her. Haven't you.” Sebastian asked the question as a statement, an icy chill settling in his stomach.

The hooded man’s silence was the only response he needed.

Sebastian nodded. Took a deep breath. A swig of his liquor. And threw the glass at the hooded man, who dodged and the glass shattered against the walls.

Chaos was unleashed as Sebastian fought tooth and nail to pummel the tall man into the ground, or at least fight his way past, unmask these bastards, break free, find Gwen. Protect her.

He did all he could.

But he was only one man. Before long, he was held down by three hooded figures, and the tallest man leaned close to his ear, only his green eyes visible through the shadow of the hood.

“You should have joined me.” the man sighed. “But since you didn’t join me… I guess you are against me. We shall have some fun, you and I.”

A sharp sting tore at his neck as he was bitten, changed forever.

That night was the worst of Sebastian’s life. He fought, his brothers fought, startled into chaos and leaping in to protect their brother, although they did not yet know why, as primal instincts kicked in as bodies took action to defend themselves from the assault of fists and knives... but it was pointless. By morning light, they were vampires, and the bodies piled high. Guinevere was dead, so were half the manor’s staff and men in cloaks, faceless beasts just adding to the bloodshed.

From what Sebastian could tell, Remington had blocked a lot of it out, or somehow didn't remember. Emerson escaped into his art. But it was never far from Sebastian’s mind, the burden of being the only one to know the truth of that night. There were nights he thought it would kill him. That was, until he met Larisa. He didn’t think he could love anyone quite like he loved Gwen until he met Larisa. He started to believe that for the next 50 years, he could be happy, safe. Maybe even have a family.

Then Y/N showed up. A reminder of his oldest enemy and oldest companion. Oldest wounds.

He remembered the hooded man scooping your unconscious body off the concrete, fangs still dripping with blood. Sebastian knew why you were taken. He just didn’t know you survived. And he could never tell his brothers.

If Y/N was back, that means no one was safe. Anything could have happened to the many involved in that sick game. Maybe he was killed, maybe they were all safe, and that’s how Y/N survived. But Sebastian had a strong suspicion that this was just the start.

Taglist: @fandomfoodiedancer @smiling-girl @fedorable-killjoys @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @gl1tterslvt @31miw-inkpsycho @babybatlover @sab-falco @levyasakura @ultimo-piccola-stella

As always, if you want to be off the taglist please let me know, and if you want to be on the taglist or update your preferences, please fill this super short form!!! Otherwise I'll forget or just add you to all fics in case (Sorry!!)

#morning light #sebastian danzig #palaye royale #palaye #soldiers of the royal council #vampire remington #remington leith #emerson barrett

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peachy-panic · 1 year

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Déjà-Vu

Part of Fifty-Eight Days. Takes place after this chapter.

ALSO, if you have not yet read the BEAUTIFUL, BRILLIANT fanfic of these two by @writereleaserepeat, do yourself a favor and click this link.

WARNINGS: Suicide attempt & aftermath, talk of mood stabilizing medication, post-capitivity, implied/referenced past sexual assault, severe PTSD, panic attacks, med whump, needles.

The sense of deja vu didn’t escape him. Grayson and Elijah had been here before; a lifetime ago, somehow squeezed into the same calendar year, in a hospital room thousands of miles away.

Back then, Grayson was the one in the chair, Elijah in the bed—tangled in wires, freshly broken, and medicated after nearly dislodging his IV in an effort to evade the doctor’s touch. Grayson didn’t know at the time—couldn’t have known—that it would be one of the last times he saw Elijah in the following months. That once they were separated, he wouldn’t see him again until he showed up in the doorway of Grayson’s hospital room last night like a ghost from a dream.

Now, Grayson was wide awake while Elijah dozed in the chair beside him, camped out in the spot he hadn’t left all day. His arms, sheathed in a dark zip-up, were crossed tightly over his stomach. Something broke inside Grayson to see he still slept in the same position he’d witnessed in captivity—defensive even in rest.

Watching him from across the room, Grayson found himself re-memorizing every inch of him. From the black hair that had grown out, strands slipping free from the bun at the nape of his neck, to the pale ridges of his knuckles grasping at the material of his sweatshirt. And all he could think was how much he did not deserve this. Did not deserve him.

He forced himself to look away.

Grayson was still trying to wrap his head around his parents reaching out to Elijah in the first place. Guilt coursed through him—a never ending stream since the moment his eyes opened to the realization of what he’d attempted and failed—at the thought of what that phone call must have been like. For Elijah to receive. For his parents to make.

They had never been shy about their feelings—if not precisely toward Elijah personally, then at least about Grayson’s proximity to him. They thought being around him once they returned to the States would only drag Grayson back into the darkness he was trying so desperately to escape. They didn’t understand that Elijah was the only other person who knew how to navigate that darkness.

Their resistance was a moot point, anyway.

In those first weeks back on American soil, Grayson tore himself apart in the battle between reaching out to Elijah and giving him space. He yearned for him so deeply, especially in the immediate aftermath. He would wake in the middle of the night, screaming, clawing his bed apart in a desperate, bone-deep panic to find him find him find him. He would bury his sobs into a pillow for hours after, remembering that, maybe, Elijah didn’t want to be found.

Not by him.

On the night Grayson decided to empty the rest of his sleeping pill prescription into his throat, he was drowning in the memory of that last day in the hospital a thousand miles away. Elijah’s haunted eyes were the vision that led him into the light.

-- -- --

They finally succeeded in separating them once they reached the hospital. Grayson fought them tooth and nail, clinging to the railing of Elijah’s gurney as they pulled him out of the ambulance and through the bay doors. But he was weak. It’d been days since he had anything to eat, and his energy was depleted from the horror and chaos of the last few hours. In the end, it didn’t take more than two nurses to bodily pull him away from Elijah’s side.

Logic largely evaded him in the moment, but even still, some part of him knew it was necessary. Elijah was hurt. Even in the ambulance, blood continued to seep from the wound on his head, darkening the fresh, white bandage they placed over it. And he didn’t even want to think about what was happening internally after seeing those bruises on his ribs, watching those kicks to the stomach, after—

He needed help, and, as proven, Grayson was the last person qualified to give him that. So he let himself be moved, pulled, prodded in whatever direction the hands took him.

Something shut off inside him when Elijah left his line of sight. Everything that happened from that point on existed inside a fog.

Distantly, he felt a bed beneath his weight and let himself be guided backward until he was staring up at the ceiling. Everything was too bright, too technicolor after so long in the gray of the basement. He closed his eyes.

Just a pinch, he heard a voice say distantly. When he opened his eyes again, there was a needle in his arm, but he hadn’t felt it break skin. He stared at the point where the tip disappeared under his flesh, then traced his gaze up the line that connected him to a clear hanging bag.

He let his eyes fall shut again.

Your parents will be here tonight, someone said from a distant spot above him.

The embassy sent a social worker, said another.

One after another, their words and questions and touches piled onto each other.

Can I help you into the gown?

I’m going to listen to your lungs.

This might be cold.

Breathe in for me.

Breathe out.

Are you experiencing any pain?

Are you hurt anywhere else?

Were you raped?

By the time they were done with their examination, Grayson was holding on by a thread—both to consciousness and his composure. Several times throughout the process, he had inexplicably dissolved into tears and gasping breaths, and they would have to pause long enough for the social worker to talk him down before continuing.

He was still in shock, they told him. Grayson mostly just felt tired.

His eyelids were drooping before he could ask to be taken to Elijah again.

The needle, he realized. They must have put something in his IV, because the fight was waning in his arms and legs, his head growing heavy against the pillow.

The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the sullen look on the social worker’s face as she said something to the nurse that he couldn’t hear.

When he next woke, the sun had dimmed outside the small window of his hospital room. A nurse was there to greet him when he opened his eyes, but there was only one word on Grayson’s lips.

“Elijah.”

They finally caved. She insisted on a wheelchair while the drugs were still fading from his system, but Grayson tried to abandon it the second he reached the doorway at the end of a hall.

Because Elijah was there. Alive, but fast asleep in a hospital bed.

He was safe.

“How long has he been asleep?”

“Just a few hours,” the nurse said.

Grayson took a tentative step forward, then, at the disapproving sound of the nurse behind him, consented to using the chair. She wheeled him to Elijah’s bedside, bringing him close enough that Grayson could reach out and touch, but he didn’t dare.

“Can I stay here?” Grayson asked without looking away from him. “I want… I want to be here when he wakes up.”

She glanced up at him as she jotted down a number from one of the monitors in his chart. “Just for a little while,” she finally conceded. “Then you should go back to bed.”

He nodded gratefully, and when she was gone, he leaned forward in his wheelchair so that his eyes were level with the bedrail. His eyes flitted to Elijah’s hand but ultimately kept his own in his lap. For a long time, Grayson just sat and watched the steady rise and fall of Elijah’s chest, soaking in the proof that they had made it out of that compound. Out of that basement. Out of that bedroom.

Over an hour passed before Elijah began to stir. It started with a small twitch in his fingers. Then the sounds. Grayson would know those sounds anywhere, and knew what they meant.

“Hey,” he said, leaning closer. “You’re safe now. It’s just a dream.”

The twitch in his fingers turned into a jerk of his arm, knocking his elbow into the metal rail. The impact startled him awake. Grayson made a small noise of relief, and Elijah’s head snapped toward him.

Their gazes locked, but it was as if Elijah wasn’t seeing him. His eyes were wide and glassy, caught somewhere between a nightmare and awareness.

“Elijah?” Grayson said, but his voice only seemed to stir something beneath the still waters of Elijah's guarded expression.

The beeping monitor at his bedside began to pick up, betraying a steep uptick in his heart rate.

“Elijah,” he tried again. Following some blind instinct screaming inside of him, he reached out a hand and—

Elijah flinched.

They stared at each other with twin expressions of horror for an eternity encapsulated inside a few passing seconds, then something seemed to collapse inside Elijah. He dropped his face into his hands and turned his body, angling himself as far from Grayson as he could inside the confines of his bed. The sharp left turn into hysteria was abrupt and crushing.

For a long moment—too long—Grayson just sat there, stunned and helpless, as Elijah’s frantic sobs turned to wails that bounced off the walls and pierced into his skin like a thousand tiny knives.

A nurse rushed past him, alerted by the alarm of his monitor. The movement jolted Grayson back into his body. He shot up from his wheelchair, nearly falling backwards in his haste to scramble away from the bed.

“I’ll go,” Grayson whispered, the small sound lost to the chaos of the room. “I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

He stumbled back through the door, not even registering the pain as his shoulder blade clipped the frame. The nurse tried to stop him, or to… to keep him upright, maybe, but Grayson hit his knees halfway down the hall. A bin was thrust under his face just in time to catch the bile.

The sounds of Elijah’s panic followed him into the hallway, tapering off slowly as the sedative took effect.

“It’s alright,” she told him, rubbing a hand over his back that Grayson didn’t have the energy to flinch away from. “Your friend is okay. He is just afraid right now. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But she didn’t see. She wasn’t there. She didn’t know how much wrong Grayson had done.

-- -- --

They kept Grayson dosed around the clock on what Elijah assumed were some kind of benzodiazepines. He had his own experience with those. Whatever they were, they made him sleep a lot and waver in lucidity between naps. He was only awake for a handful of the hours that Elijah spent by his side. He was just glad he was getting some rest.

He knew the end of visiting hours was fast approaching and that he would be forced to leave. The countdown hung over him like a guillotine’s blade. Every few minutes, he had to beat back the paranoid fear that leaving this room would mean another months-long stretch of silence. Or worse, that he would never see Grayson again.

He tried to kill himself. Grayson had tried to kill himself.

There was a lot to contend with between the two of them. A lot of dark waters Elijah wasn’t sure either one of them were ready to wade into again, especially not with Grayson in this state. A part of him was terrified he would turn over this rock and find something he didn’t want to see. All of his worst fears had rushed to the surface the moment his mother got the call: that this was all Elijah’s fault.

The way he’d unknowingly lured Grayson into the compound. The way his failed escape attempt had subjected Grayson to the horrors he tried so hard to protect him from.

The way Elijah handled it in the aftermath.

Those first couple weeks were hazy. Elijah was all over the place; hysterical one minute and catatonic the next. They had him on a constant rotation of pills just to get him to a semi-functioning state, and then he just slept. A lot.

For all that he had bottled his emotions inside Myles Voss’s prison, something about the sudden freedom from it shook everything loose. He couldn’t control it. He hated it.

His therapist told him that was common. That his mind had been in survival mode and couldn’t fully process the trauma while he still lived inside of it. She told him that processing it now was the first step toward healing, but Elijah had only felt more broken than ever.

There was always some small part of him that knew there was a possibility of Grayson blaming himself for their distance, but at the time it was too big a mountain to climb. Elijah could barely get out of bed long enough to use the bathroom in those first few weeks. The thought of reaching back through the darkness to find Grayson again was insurmountable.

Because there was the bigger part of him that believed Grayson was avoiding him on purpose. And it was both easier and much, much harder to accept that. So Elijah let the days turn to weeks turn to months, and he avoided him because he was scared and he was ashamed, and now they were here. And all this time, Elijah had no idea Grayson was hurting this deeply.

He refused to let it go unnoticed again, and that meant being here. If that was what Grayson wanted, Elijah would be here now.

The rustle of bedclothes had Elijah’s focus narrowing in on his sleeping companion again. He didn’t usually stay awake or aware for long when he roused, but Elijah tried to be a comforting presence every time nonetheless. He slid his chair closer and reached for Grayson’s hand.

Elijah had finally won the fight against the doctor’s restraints. After so many times of him freeing Grayson’s wrist the second they left the room, unable to stand the sight of his mobility taken from him, they agreed to leave his arm free as long as someone was in the room with him.

It probably helped that Grayson’s parents had backed him up.

He had always gotten the sense that they didn’t like him. Even before… Even when things were normal, they were the kind of people who cast sideways glances when his mom showed up to Sunday service fresh off a graveyard shift, still dressed in her waitress uniform. Exactly the kind of church people that made Elijah resistant to attending with his mom even on the rare occasions he agreed.

Elijah hadn’t seen those people since he showed up at the hospital. The people he met today had vacant eyes that shifted not out of judgment, but with the desperation of someone lost and groping for direction. Their state of disarray was completely unfamiliar to the image Elijah had of them in his head. They looked exactly like two people who had nearly lost their son.

The three of them hadn’t interacted much since Elijah arrived, and what little they had was stilted and awkward. But they had called him. They had let him stay by Grayson’s side. And that wasn’t nothing.

Grayson’s head lulled toward him on the pillow, lips parting and then pressing together as if trying to form words.

“Hey,” Elijah whispered. “You with me?”

“You… Y’r still here.”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“‘S Okay,” Grayson slurred back at him, his eyes cracking for only a brief flash. “We’re g’na geddouta here. We’re gonna…”

Elijah bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. “We’re out,” he said, barely a whisper. “We’re safe now, Grayson.”

His eyes peeled open again, and he gave a few bleary blinks up at him. “‘M so sorry.”

“No.” Elijah said firmly, shaking his head even though Grayson’s eyes were already closing again. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“‘M sorry.”

Elijah lifted the back of his sleeve to swipe at the escaping tears, then held onto Grayson with both hands.

“I’m sorry, too.”

-- -- --

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#fifty eight days: grayson and elijah #fifty-eight days: grayson & elijah #whump #whumplr #whump writing #captivity whump #med whump #i've been particularly inspired to write for these two lately #probably partially due to that aforementioned fanfic #and partially because i saw a play yesterday where one of the actors looked just like elijah #anyway here you go enjoy the fruits of my problem daydreaming

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