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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

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📖Make it Stick: Pt. 1 The Dragon

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 1103

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

“Да. Good. Make sure she stays that way. Now, tell me everything.” Bucky listens to his henchman’s answer, pissed in general but only getting truly angry when he hears one specific detail. “She was with who?! Ублюдок!!” He takes the phone away from his face for a second as he curses in three different languages. Fucking Gleb. He fucking knew it. He’s going to cut his fucking dick off! When he brings the phone back up to his face, all he utters is a deathly quiet, “We’re in the Dragon’s Den. Get them here. Both of them.” He ends the call.

The gun at Bucky’s back has stopped buzzing. Funny, how it’s the sudden lack of pain that makes goosebumps rise to his skin. “Boss?” Natasha asks.

Bucky’s eyes flick over to Steve, who’s sitting next to the Karpovs on the couch. One moment of intense eye contact between the two of them, and Steve’s face goes wan in recognition. Tight-lipped, Bucky gives an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation. Steve squares his shoulders and pushes up to standing to go over to the bar. The guy has an almost preternatural ability to predict Bucky’s wants and needs, which is one reason why he’s risen through the ranks so fast (well, it's one, leastways). He artfully flips a lowball, knowing what this situation calls for without having to be told; ice and two fingers of the Russo-Baltique that’s so expensive, Bucky once stabbed a guy’s hand into a table for drinking it without permission.

Steve delivers the glass and retreats to stand sentinel along the wall. Bucky sips, sets it down, growls and grabs it up again. He rolls the liquor in his mouth as he fumes, a dark plan starting to form in his head. It comes together quickly, because it’s not like he hasn’t spent plenty of time fantasizing about it before now. What he’d do when he finally got her back.

His little one is tenacious and likes to make trouble. She has a penchant for running away, but she’s never lasted this long before. It’s been over ten months—long enough to put the fear of God in Bucky that he could actually lose her for good, if he isn’t more careful. So, he has to be careful, has to make a statement, send a message. He has to make it stick.

Luckily, when it comes to “sending messages,” Bucky Barnes can be very creative. Like tattooing, torture is an oft underappreciated artform. “Dimi,” he barks. “I’m expecting some special guests tonight. Go and sort things out downstairs. I want the place packed by ten—Make sure it’s with the right people.”

“Boss?” Lev pipes up, confused. He’s Karpov’s kid brother: new, inexperienced but eager, still “earning his scales,” as the boys like to say.

Dimitri jerks his head for his brother to follow him. “Boss wants a demonstration. C’mon.” He’s already got his phone out as they leave the room to get things arranged. Bucky’s “demonstrations” usually require plastic sheeting and a crowd of people who are either Hydra themselves, or else educated enough to know to keep their mouths shut about Bratva business.

“Where’d they find her?” Steve asks.

Bucky scoffs, still fuming. “Floating off the coast of Belize. On my own fucking yacht. Can you even believe that?”

“Sounds like her.”

“Lena?” Nat hums. “Who’d you send?”

“Maximoff and Belova have her.” Bucky grits his teeth at the sting as Natasha uses a wet cloth to wipe off the excess blood and ink. He can feel her scrutinizing her work. “You can keep going,” he tells her, but she ‘tsks’ in that way that only a Russian tongue can really do.

“We’ll come back to it. Skin behaves differently when you’re not relaxed.”

“I’m am relaxed!” He hears how ridiculous he sounds and heaves a long sigh, trying to let his shoulders untense to at least somewhere below the level of his ears. “I’m relaxed.”

“Keep saying it and it might come true.” Nat rolls away on her stool, peeling off her gloves with finality. “Your blood pressure and vodka’ll push the ink out faster than I can stick it. Just come over to the Red Room once it’s done scabbing and we’ll finish it then.”

She’s already packing up her stuff when Bucky gets the idea. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes at the rolling toolkit that Nat keeps in the club’s upstairs lounge just for him and his men. “Do me a favor,” he says slowly, the idea taking shape in his mind. “Run down to the shop and print out a transfer for me. Cyrillic. A small font. Something pretty but … bold. Easy to read.”

Natasha tenses. “What do you want it to say?”

“собственность дракона.”

“No,” she says, and when Bucky looks over, she’s standing ramrod straight.

“Clearly, you disapprove.”

“I’m not inking it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he snaps, low on patience tonight, even for Natasha. “Print it out on a goddamn transfer sheet and bring it to me.”

She’s doing that dead faced thing she does—where she goes still like a doll to avoid making some expression she doesn’t want you to see. Right now, Bucky suspects it might be sheer disdain. “Size?” she asks. “Shaping?”

“One line straight up the forearm. Delicate lettering, but clear as a fucking bell to read.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what spacing—”

“You know how big she is, you figure out the fucking spacing!” he yells. “Or what the fuck am I even paying you for?!”

Natasha goes eerily still, then abruptly pivots to leave, the severe line of her hair whipping around with the motion. She’s unhappy with him.

“Red ink!” Bucky calls out, the door slamming shut after her a millisecond later. He grinds his teeth together and stands up from the chair he’s been perched in for the past three hours, carrying his drink over to the mirrors so that he can get a better look at his back.

Scales, teeth, claws. Crouched and curling across his shoulders, tendrils creeping up onto his neck, marking him as what he is: Дракон.

The Dragon.

“Will you help me?” he asks Steve, quiet now that it’s just the two of them.

“Depends on what you want me to do.”

“It depends”—No other man in the Bratva could give such an answer and expect to remain in one piece. But Steve’s gaze is steadfast when Bucky meets it and tells him, “She’s gotten away with too much for too long. It’s time to shorten the leash.”

In the mirror, Steve’s eyes darken. He nods.

Take me to part 2!

Masterlist

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

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Unexpected 38

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You roll over, eyes opening as you groan. The dull ache in your back is heavy, worse than the usual. The pressure in your pelvis is so bad, you feel like you might just vomit. A ripple of agony tears through you as you pant, whimpering into the dark as you clutch your stomach.

"Fuck," you grunt as you dig your elbow into the mattress, "fuck, not now."

You shakily sit up after several tries. Your muscles tauten and your spine pangs. Lloyd isn't there. The bed is empty. Where the fuck is he?

You grip the bed frame and stand with all your strength. The slimy gush between your legs assures you of your worse fear. No fucking way. This has to be a nightmare. Where is Lloyd? You can't do this alone and fuck him for trying to make you.

It's too early. Your c-section isn't scheduled for another month. It's a false alarm. God, you feel like you're going to shit yourself.

You waddle to the door, breathless as you get there. A radiating burst of pain blooms in your back and you barely keep from falling onto your stomach. You collapse to your knees and growl.

"Fuck!" You utter the guttural word, puffing as you hold the doorframe, "LLOYD!" You holler, "where the fuck are you?"

You don't hear anything. You lean forward, pressing your hands to the hardwood. You lift yourself, crawling towards the stairs. You stop at the top and suck in air.

"LLOYD!!!" You boom down and it echoes onto the first floor.

You hear a clink and lazy footsteps. He could go a little faster. You snarl and heave, blowing out between your teeth as you try to temper the pain. Lloyd gets to the bottom of the stairs as you whine.

"What's going on, peaches? Ice cream--"

"Don't be a fucking moron," you sneer and ram a fist into the floor, "this goddamn demon is trying to claw its way out of my ass."

"Huh?" He sputters.

"Huh?!" You spit mockingly, "Lloyd, I think it's time."

"Now?"

"Yeah, fucking now-- could you stop asking stupid fucking questions and help me!"

Your back arches as you bellow through another contraction. Holy fucking shit. This is not how you expected to wake up. You never truly believed you wake up to anything worse than that mustachioed dimwit.

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, oh wow," he scrambles around and grabs his keys, searching for shoes in the closet as you bring yourself to sit on the top stair, gripping tight the railing as you shake. "Right now! Fuck! And I thought I was gonna surprise you," he turns and runs up the steps. God you hate him and his spritely fucking body. Look at him moving without a single goddamn obstacle. "Come on, baby cakes."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You bark as he bends over you, guiding your arms around his neck as he helps you to your feet.

"Good luck," he snickers.

"Not fucking funny, dickweed. I'm serious," you curl your nails into his back, just along his shoulder blade until he cries out, "you did this to me and I'm gonna rip your taint open so you know how it fee--ARGGHHHHHHH!"

"Peaches," Lloyd grits out, barely restraining a warble in his voice, "I got you. You're a strong bitch, you can do this."

"I put up with you, I know I'm fucking strong," you raise your hand to his neck and pinch him meanly. "Get me to the fucking hospital! Now. There's no way I'm pushing this thing out. They need to cut me the fuck open--- MOTHERFUCKER!"

"I will be soon enough," Lloyd grins.

"Do you have a fucking death wish?" You retort as he helps you down the stairs one at a time. "Life for a life. You go, this fucking parasite comes out."

"Okay, let's just... get where we need to go," Lloyd hisses in pain as your nails dig into his neck, "please, peaches, take it easy."

"Take it easy?" You get to the first floor, "take it easy! I feel like I'm in that scene from Alien. EASY? You think this if fucking easy?!"

"Nope," he grunts as he turns and angles your towards the front door, "alright, we're almost there."

You moan and babble as you lean your head back, legs moving stiffly as he urges you on. You can't. It's too much. You're used to pain but this is too much.

Lloyd gets you to the car and opens the door. He turns you and slowly eases you done, "try not to get anything on the seat--"

"Shut the fuck up," you snap, "I can't fucking help it!"

"Just, put your legs together--"

"Shoulda done that a while ago," you shove him so he hits his head on the top of the car. He sighs and shuts the door before running around the hood of the car.

He gets in the driver's side and taps on the wheel. He makes small noises as if trying to decide what to do next. It's not hard, drive!

As the pressure swells in your pelvis, you clasp onto the door and measure your breaths. Finally, he starts the engine and backs out. You let the motion of the car reassure you, though it does little for the pain.

Your head lolls and silver moonlight streams through slits of your eyes. You're almost delirious with the shock and pain. Wake up, wake up, it's too soon! It can't be real. You're not ready. Not ready to be a mother. Please, just a little longer.

You hug your stomach, tears in your eyes, and drone. You turn your head and look at the man next to you. You know what comes next, you know how this goes.

You're no more than used goods. Once there's a squalling, shitting baby, he'll find even more reason to be gone. More often and for longer. You're going to be alone like you were before. Attached to a man who doesn't care about you at all.

You wheeze and throw your head back, the street lights streaming by. The dread sinks in your stomach. This little girl is going to hate you. You don't even know if you can love her. You're just going to have one more person in this world to disappoint.

The dialing of a phone interrupts your doom. The Bluetooth clicks and a groggy voice comes from the other end.

"Marion?" Dottie wonders quizzically through the speaker.

"Ma," Lloyd says, a tremor of panic breaking through as he reaches to squeeze your arm, "it's time--"

You sob and snort, trying to fight through. Your body doesn't feel like your own. You have no control over it, no control as your bones split and your muscles tear.

"Time?" Dottie chimes, "oh my-- sweetie," she coaxes, "breathe, just breathe, Marion, you breathe with her--" There's rustling against the microphone, "Harley, get up. We gotta go!"

"I got it ma," Lloyd says, "I can do it."

"Ain't you doin' all the work," Dottie retorts, "you keep your wife cozy, don't be thinking of yourself. Harlan, not that one, the other-- I gotta go, honey bear. We'll be there fast as we can."

The call ends and you gnash your teeth as another contraction rolls over you. You lean forward, coughing out a breath as you brace the dashboard. Lloyd keeps his hand on your shoulder as he drives.

"Almost there, peaches."

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #the gray man #unexpected #drabble #series #au

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 28 days

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tuesday again 4/2/2024

in which i try to clean two different boxes with varying success

new people: hello! the tuesdaypost is a weekly roundup of stuff i've been listening, reading, watching, playing, and making. it is NOT a recommendation series, although i sometimes dabble in critique. when im firing on all cylinders i ask "what is the core concept of this? does it succeed in what i think it's trying to do and what it says it's doing?is it well-made but i dislike it/beautiful but not for me? why? what parts Really Work?"

if you are into purity culture, yelling at other people about the problematic media they consume, or are under 18 i am going to have very little patience for you.

listening

now that i live in houston i am legally obliged to loop the new beyonce album 24/7. there is absolutely truly nobody fucking doing it like her. every song is a multimedia art piece. goddamn do i miss the album as a tool to convey a specific concept/listening order/flow. sometimes (chappell roan most recently comes to mind, although it does feel unfair to compare anyone to beyonce) every individual song is pretty good but the listening experience if you sit down and listen all the way through the album is unpleasant and choppy. not so here. NEVER here.

my favorite like Dance Number is YA YA (it samples nancy sinatra's boots! and the beach boys' good vibrations! wildly different tones despite coming out a year apart!)

youtube

the one that goes on four different character/tone playlists is BODYGUARD.

youtube

great early roundup of influences, samples, and collaborators. delighted to see five fingers for marseilles listed, a rocky but underrated south african neo-western free on tubi rn for americans

reading

also very texas-relevant with the recent pornhub lawsuits! pornhub and sex tech (among other things) have been samantha cole's beat for almost ten years. i trust her to report sensitively and not for like. shock clicks

this site has a free paywall (sign up with your email for a link to the full article) so bots have a harder time scraping articles: this is a journalist-founded site with only the four founders running it and writing articles. while annoying i do think this is a reasonable measure

The platform still has problems, but after years of critical reporting and a litany of legal and reputational consequences, Pornhub is now more heavily moderated than any other porn platform, and most major social media platforms, for that matter. A growing list of age verification laws has put Pornhub in a position where it is compelled to block access to its site in seven states and counting. In theory, these laws are designed to prevent children from being able to access pornography online. In reality, what is going to happen is that children are going to end up on pornographic sites that don’t care what the law says, and where some of the most harmful content that exists online is actively promoted to them.

she's also got a new limited series podcast with CBC about the rise and fall of pornhub, which was fascinating and kept me company during an extremely early morning drive

watching

i'm lukewarm about this one but i spend a lot of time getting there, much like this movie

ive been watching a lot of frankly dogshit thrillers, which has made me wonder: what's the deal with supervillans? where did they come from? and thence arrived at the prototypical film Dr Mabuse the Gambler (1922, dir. Lang). the four and a half hour cut on Kanopy is two normal-length movies superglued together, which makes sense as a streaming product but it is sort of a terrifying runtime and took me three days to get through.

sometimes, as we know, i get a real bee in my bonnet about visiting the early versions of things. dr mabuse is the blueprint for every james bond and mission impossible villain, or really any shadowy supervillain with power over [INDUSTRY] or [THE MARKET]. it is a four and a half hour long cat and mouse game through lavish, eccentric sets between mabuse and prosecutor wenk. it has some trouble sustaining itself bc it is four and a half hours long but does deliver on the cat and mouse aspects. this letterboxed review has interesting things to say about the political climate of 1922 germany and how lang subverts the formula of the pulp serial.

really the film opens with mabuse yelling at his cocaine-addicted assistant, but the film properly gets going with mabuse's henchmen stealing a trade agreement (nothing really carbon dates a movie more than a missing trade agreement. vanishingly few post-early-30s movies have missing trade agreements as plot points) and then he crashes the stock market. for fun and profit.

however. i think every time you see an evil man who is a banker or stockbroker or generally uses money as power you have to interrogate whether it's antisemitic. the answer here is "maybe" but i'm not sure if intent matters when contemporary nazi critics were eager to hold mabuse up as "this is the typical jewish criminal". (sorry about the link directly to wikipedia, it's been touch finding online sources for this section). mabuse is not specifically jewish, but there are certainly elements of stereotype. i am still not good at being presented with "this movie has a shadowy behind the scenes figure manipulating the government and all the money ever" and going "hey wait a minute".

after that tremendous glaring caveat, for which i read more contemporary reviews and reviews in general than i ever read for movies in these posts, is it good? eh. a contemporary VARIETY review remarked (and i largely agree)

The direction of Fritz Lang has moments – but Lang somewhat negates his good technical effects by twenty forty-word captions of a ludicrous unconciseness.

the night scenes are particularly well done, and imo are better than many modern night scenes--other contemporary reviews remarked

In this film the techniques of the film camera (Carl Hoffmann’s brilliant photography) are brought to perfection. The problem of how to film lit-up streets at night has been solved for the first time. It is unbelievably impressive to see the glaring lights of speeding cars flash through the night or the rapid passing of an elevated train of the initially blurred, then gradually focussed glimpse through a pair of opera glasses on to the variety stage, the nuances of light and shade—these things alone prove the value of film documentary.

look at this shit! filmed from within the cars! in 1922!!!

youtube

this film asks you to believe hypnotism is real and really effective, so i don't think it's that big of a leap when it asks you to believe in ghosts. i don't understand that quibble from contemporary viewers. there are several on screen suicides with like. specific methods. which is not currently regarded as good filmmaking practice. im curious to know what contemporary audiences thought but couldn't immediately turn anything up, and wading through masters’ theses on cinematic suicide is a little beyond my current mental health.

if i were a more content-minded woman this would turn into a clickbait video essay about the antisemitic origins of every supervillan. however i am unqualified and untalented at video editing and i'm sure there are forty theses on this already. this movie is a hard sell to anyone jewish or employed. it is also a stunning example of cutting-edge film technology and part of the genesis of the modern supervillan. Fritz Lang films tend to fall in the category of “movies i am happy to see once and feel no need to revisit”.

playing

playing what is effectively the same game three times back to back (breath of the wild, tears of the kingdom, genshin impact) has sort of burned me out on open world games with a focus on battle skill progression and stumbling across little puzzles in the overworld. i have to get itch.io up and running on this pc and find the most linear jankiest possible one-sitting indie thing. or several of them. i might try the solo ttrpg Gentleman Bandit i seem to have acquired in one of the giant charity bundles

brief breath of the wild update bc i don't want to pull screenshots off my switch: i have gotten to the boss fight for the gerudo and goron regions, have not completed them bc my focus in this game is NOT hearts, and am in the middle of the zora temple. despite the quality of life improvements and new regions in totk i think i prefer botw: progression is a bit easier, there are fewer mmo-style hub quests and repeatable quests. things like the stable photos are cute but very repetitive, so are the sign bracing puzzles, and the sky crystal quests for sky shrines feel VERY samey. also dislike how the CLEAR OUT: [REGION] quests with the monster suppression squads reset at the blood moon.

anyway! to genshin! there was an exceptionally fun little event with a surprisingly involved management sim tacked onto the game??? you make and sell potions fulfilling different requirements, and can eventually stock travelling merchants all over the continent. the actual act of making the potions was this block-filling 1010! style thing (screenshot from polygon)

the new region, a port town and tea-growing area called Chenyu Vale, is maybe the prettiest one in the game so far? it's the one that feels the most picturesque and Designed, like this is one huge mansion garden studded with follies. they also added background chatter and noise in the cities and towns, which really startled me and makes them feels much more lived in! this is a fun trick to avoid putting in a thousand NPCs and making everyone's framerate crash. the less stuff in your game, the less shit can go wrong.

also pulled for and got chiyori, a geo-aligned seamstress (and sometime spy???) swordswoman who has what i can only call domme voice

making

ok now we'll talk about boxes. i was rearranging my kitchen, as unemployed women are known to do, and noticed this recipe box i picked up back in mass was disgusting. the finish is starting to fail but it was genuinely grody and last summer i packed my kitchen in a blind panic inside an hour and did not have time to address it. i have never seen a recipe box at an estate sale before or since and it made me desperately sad.

it was full of a lot of stuff.

i went at it with a somewhat inadvisable combination of things: wood soap didn't budge it, so i dampened a paper towel in vinegar and wiped it down in the vain hope it would do something. the thing that worked, and would be inadvisable for anything veneered or less densely textured, was baking soda paste and the scrubby side of a sponge. it still smells Very musty even after 48h of loose baking soda inside with several changes, but that might be partly the recipe cards' fault. i would like to refinish this at some point but i don't have polyurethane on hand and the fun little project budget is empty until further notice/i get a job.

the hinge did rust a bit despite my best efforts but that has since been lightly steel wooled and oiled. a well loved object! it's possible the lady who died just fucking sucked and that's why literally her entire estate including many other things families usually keep was on sale, but i would like to think perhaps she simply had no other family? a well loved/used object even if all the recipes are for semi-horrifying fifties new england recipes.

the other box, pre-acids but post-washing: this topp trading card box with seven episode one packets of cards was intact with the original seal. i have verified it was not worth much more than the $5 i paid for it with the trading card obsessed man in my best friend's husband's friendgroup. i bought this three months ago but the man was unavailable to open it until uhhh last week. some sort of liquid got inside it at some point and it was super corroded. i was going to store embroidery floss in here but even with all my powers (barkeepers friend. brasso.) i cannot completely remove the corrosion. it's not corroded Through but it looks bad and feels rough. so it goes. it'll probably hold the tiedown straps in my car bc that plastic bucket is rapidly failing

#aaaaaaand we're back baybee!!!#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #uncharacteristically nervous about this one since there are so many new people haha

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satelliteddie · 2 years

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satellite - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie will never tell you how he really feels, he cant risk losing you… but after he almost loses you to an injury in the upside down, eddie finds himself spinning out waiting for you to realize how in love he is.

content warnings: language, injuries (bruises, demo-bat wounds, scars, etc.), fainting, kissing

word count: 5.3k

author’s notes: okay so i kinda sorta altered the plot of s4 for this to work (for obvious reasons), but its simply for angst purposes…kk bye :)

You got a new life

Am I bothering you?

Do you wanna talk?

We share the last line

Then we drink the wall

'Til we wanna talk

I go 'round and 'round

Satellite

Eddie didn’t realize when he introduced you to Robin and Steve that you would so easily slip into their friend group. Of course he knew everyone would love you, but he didn’t realize how much. Before he was even aware, his circle of friends had grown to a number that was behind his comprehension. For the longest time it was just you and him against everyone else. Now, there was Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, his band/Hellfire members, and all the younger kids. He loved all of them, even though he’d never admit that, but he missed the times when it was just the two of you in his room in the trailer. You got a new life, one that he introduced you to… how could he be jealous of that when he was the reason you knew all of them? It was stupid to be jealous of people that didn’t know you like he did. Eddie was your best friend – he knew that. He did. Yet, he still felt you slipping away slowly and maybe not intentionally, but you were. He was starting to feel like it was all his fault. When Eddie did talk to you when all of you were together it was like he was bothering you. It was crazy to think that, truly. Eddie was your everything and you were his. The issue was, Eddie wasn’t sure if “everything” meant the same thing to you as it did to him. He is in love with you. Stupid, mindnumbing, all-consuming love. He tried to give himself space from you, thinking maybe that would clear his head. Spoiler: it didn’t work. Instead, he roped you into even more chaos when he told you about the Upside Down and all of its supernatural entities. Which brought him to the Wheeler’s basement, listening as you and the others discussed the next moves. Eddie runs his fingers through the ripped holes in his jeans, pulling at the loose threads.

“I just don’t understand why we have to go back there.” Robin says, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Yeah, I’m not following Nance,” Steve shakes his head. “If we know Vecna is dead, why would we go back?” After the Earthquake and massive fight across multiple dimensions, the physical form of Vecna had not been seen and no suspicious deaths had occurred. The group was able to clear Eddie’s name and blame it on Satanic Panic, and more “chemical leaks” still happening due to the Hawkins Labs. However, you all knew better than to bask in the peace because the fight was only starting.

“We don’t know he’s dead, Steve.” Nancy gives Steve a pointed look.

“Listen,” your voice catches Eddie’s attention. He tilts his head up watching you intently as you speak, “I don’t want to go back either, but Nancy is right. If we want to save Max, we have to try.” The rest of the group gives somber frowns as they think about Max and how she’s barely holding on as of now. It’s killing each of you slowly to know that she suffered because your plan went awry. “Eddie?” You turn to him with unwavering eyes, “what do you think?”

I’d follow you into the literal depths of Hell if that's what you wanted, he thinks while holding your gaze. He stands from the couch, brushing his hands against his jeans, “I think we should make sure the fucker is dead.”

Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in

I can see you're lonely down there

Don't you know that I am right here?

Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in

I can see you're lonely down there

Don't you know that I am right here?

Spinning out, waiting for ya

Eddie swore he would never return to the Upside Down after the last close call, but instead he was chucking a rope having upgraded from bed sheets through the gate in his ceiling to enter again. There’s no way this is my life, he shakes his head as the rope thumps on the ground on the other side. Your cool fingers grip his forearm, turning him to you.

“We’re going to be okay,” you say in a reassuring tone. Eddie wants to get on his knees and beg you to stay here. Or run away from Hawkins with him. Or do anything besides this.

“How do you know that?” He asks, his voice hoarse. Eddie blinks slowly, his eyes lingering on your mouth.

“I don’t,” you sigh. You tighten the military-grade vest around your torso, trying to do something with your shaking hands. Eddie notices your anxious movements and places his larger hands on yours. You look up at him with misty eyes and a small smile. He mirrors your expression before turning his face down to rest his forehead on the top of your head. Eddie inhales a shaky breath, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. Your friendship always bordered the line of more than platonic, but Eddie knew he couldn’t risk admitting his feelings to you. So he would steal forehead kisses and hugs whenever he could. It was wrong for him to do it now when you were so scared, but he needed to comfort you in the only way he knew how. He wanted to tell you that he was always going to be right here, waiting for you; but instead all he said was, “c’mon let’s get this over with.”

-✩-

You flop down on the mattress in the Upside Down, Eddie extends his hand and pulls you up from the floor.

“I’ll never get used to this,” you groan as you stand.

“We shouldn’t have to,” Eddie agrees, but it sounds more like an annoyed comment to you. You and Eddie head towards the front door of the trailer, Eddie hesitates before grabbing the doorknob. He feels his pulse in every square inch of his body, the majority focused on his scars. The scars were a part of him that he grew to accept, but coming back to the place that gave him those imperfections was not something he ever wanted to do. Ever. His mind races to the last time he was here; I almost died, he feels dizzy as the memory returns. “Sorry,” he apologizes and shakes the thought from his head. You grip his arm again with just enough force to ground him.

“Eds,” you give him a weak smile. “It's me,” you slide your hand from his arm into his hand. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I get it, this is asking a lot of you. We’ll be home soon.”

You and Eddie are deep into the forest, skipping over vines and twigs as you move through the trees. Steve, Robin and Nancy decided to take the other gate at Lover’s Lake, claiming it was smarter to split up and meet in the middle. Eddie wanted to yell at them and say that's how everyone in horror movies dies, but when you agreed to the plan he followed your lead. So far you had managed to avoid all demo-creatures as you and Eddie spoke in hushed voices. You step carefully over vines, still holding Eddie’s hand in a deathgrip. Eddie tried to ignore the flutter of his heart every time he felt your palm press to his, but he can’t stop imagining being able to hold your hand whenever he wanted.

“I think I need to go to a concert when we finally get out of here,” you comment without any previous conversation. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows as he gives you a confused look. “I’m just saying, I think we all deserve to scream our hearts out at a concert.”

Eddie doesn’t disagree, hell he never disagrees with you, yet he can’t help but laugh at your thoughts. “Only you would be thinking about live music right now,” he grins, brushing his thumb over your hand.

“Mmm, if only I knew someone in a band.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “If only,” Eddie flashes you a lopsided grin.

I'm in an L.A. mood

I don't wanna talk to you

She said, "Give me a day or two"

I go 'round and 'round

Satellite

Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in

Finally, the daunting Creel House comes into view as you and Eddie stop at the mailbox. In the distance bike tires crunch along the road. Steve, Robin and Nancy head towards you on bicycles that are way too small for them.

“No fair,” Eddie groans. “They got bikes!”

“Eds.” You roll your eyes.

“I know, not the point.” He mocks you with a playful smirk.

“Alright, love birds,” Steve interrupts, causing you and Eddie to clear your throats at the same time. You’re not sure, but you could swear you see a faint blush rise on Eddie’s cheeks.

The five of you push open the doors to the house, stepping inside with as much stealth as you can. Robin and Eddie focus all their attention to where they step, both of them convinced they’re going to trip if they move upstairs. While you, Steve and Nancy scan the house for any signs of Vecna on the second floor and attic. The floorboards creak under every step you take, some of them becoming loose entirely and falling to the first floor below. Nancy grips your arm, pulling you away from the opening in the ground; she offers you a small smile before you continue into the next room. Steve and Nancy head into Henry’s old bedroom while you stay in the hallway to watch for any other movement. You hear Robin and Eddie’s hushed voices through the slats of the house as they move around below you.

“You still didn’t tell her? Eddie!” Robin asks, with what you can only imagine is a shove to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Shh,” Eddie whispers, but it’s just loud enough for you to hear. “I haven’t found the right time to. I don’t think she’ll ever feel that way about me…it’s not just some crush, I love her.” It feels like all the oxygen in the room was sucked out as you continue to listen. Eddie’s in love? Who was he in love with? When did he know? Why didn’t he tell me? So many questions bounce around in your brain as you try to piece together how you could have missed it. Eddie was in love with someone and he didn’t tell you. Your heart broke as you continued to hear Robin beg Eddie to tell this girl he loved. You could never place where your true feelings fell for Eddie. He was always your safe space, your best friend, your everything. You love him, but you couldn’t fall in love with him without knowing he would feel the same. It was too risky, too unknown…so instead you pushed your romantic feelings deep down. It was safer to know you had him in your life for good without the uncertainty of telling him how you really felt. You tilt your head towards the end of the hall trying to hear Robin and Eddie better.

“It’s— I don’t know. She’s my best friend, y’know? I can't risk losing her if she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Eddie,” Robin's voice is gentle. “You’ve been in love with her since the moment you met. She loves you too, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, and you notice what sounds like shuffled foot steps. You can picture Eddie scuffing his shoes on the ground out of nerves. “How do you know?”

“You don’t see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Y/N loves you— in the same way you love her.”

He’s in love with me? Your head spins as you slowly step back towards the stairs, trying desperately to hear more of their conversation. Your body acts before you’re able to think straight, you step forward on another loose floorboard…but this time Nancy isn’t there to catch you. You crash through the floor, wood splitting across the hall as you lay among the broken pieces. You gasp for air, having felt the wind get knocked out of you when you fell. You stop your panicked breathing to try and level yourself.

Eddie rushes to the noise from the other side of the hall, unsure of what happened; but when he sees you, his entire world stops. It feels like time moves even slower as he approaches you with bated breath. Please be alive. You gasp for air again and the clock is back to normal pace as Eddie reaches you. He kneels by your side, not caring if he’s stepping on any of the “hive”. Eddie’s gentle as he reaches for your cheek; your attention is frantic as you scan the room trying to breathe correctly again. Your sides and back ache and every time you breathe it feels like fire should come out. You try to push yourself up to reach Eddie. You just want him to hold you and take you home. He lets you move slowly, but makes sure you don’t go too fast.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie tries desperately to get you to look at him. He strokes his thumbs over your cheekbones, his calmness makes you focus on him. It can’t be that bad if he’s looking at me like this…right? Your thoughts race as you watch Eddie carefully scan over the rest of you. There’s no obvious injuries which calms and concerns him at the same time. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Your heart suddenly feels like it’s on fire too, but you know it’s not from the fall. He takes your hand in his and places it on the center of his chest. “Breathe with me, okay?” Eddie inhales and holds his breath for a moment before releasing it. He drags out the exhale for longer than he normally would before repeating the same process. Your eyes stay focused on his hand covering yours on his chest as you repeat his movements. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You raise your eyes from your joined hands to Eddie’s eyes. His face cracks into a small smile, his eyes glossy as he looks at you. “You’re okay,” he says, trying to convince both you and him of it.

“I’m okay,” you repeat back in a hoarse voice. Eddie feels his heartbeat in his ears, every cell in his body is on fire as he watches you. I could have lost her, I could still lose her.

“We have to go,” Eddie’s voice is shaky as he looks for support from the others. Steve, Nancy, and Robin all stand behind Eddie watching you intently. No one wants to panic you or overreact, but each of their faces are scrunched in concern. No one argues with him as they all help you stand, Eddie’s hand finding your side and pulling you to him.

“Eddie, I’m okay.” You insist, “I can walk. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Just give me a day or two and I’ll be good as new.”

Eddie looks down at you under his arm, “I don’t care if you can walk. I’m holding you until we get back to Hawkins. Maybe even after that.” You hesitate to answer, but Eddie continues, “can't take you anywhere, huh?”

You jab your elbow into his ribs, which he pretends you gravely injured him as he gasps. You rest your head against Eddie’s side laughing lightly.

I can see you're lonely down there

Don't you know that I am right here?

Spinning out, waiting for you to pull me in

I can see you're lonely down there

Don't you know that I am right here?

Eddie refused to leave your side the entire trip home and even after that. He made sure to give you “absolutely-necessary” piggy back rides up the stairs, made you his favorite snacks, and “borrowed” movies from Family Video. He finally left your house a full 24-hours later, after making sure you slept through the night. Your heart fluttered as you watched him sleep in the chair in the corner of your room. He adamantly refused to stay in your bed, claiming you needed the space to rest. Eventually when Eddie did leave for Hellfire the next day, his eyes looked over every bruise on your body before pulling you into a tight hug. He squeezed you into him, making sure not to go too hard even though he wants to. You grumble into his chest, “Eddie, you have to go. They're going to be waiting for you. I’m fine. I’ll be here when you get back,” you tilt your face up. Eddie offers you a soft smile which you mirror. He brushes the stray hairs away from your face before keeping his hands on your face for a little too long. “Eds,” you say after he doesn’t respond.

“Yeah,” Eddie shakes his head and drops his hands from your face. “I’ll be back tomorrow, please call me if you need anything,” you try to argue, but Eddie narrows his eyes at you. “You’re not going to be a bother, so don’t even say that. Hellfire can wait.” His eyes and mind are scattered as he looks at you; he wants to tell you how much he wants to stay. Never has he ever wanted to skip Hellfire…but he doesn’t want to leave you. His heart constricts against his chest, every emotion and feeling he has for you being trapped inside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you promise in a hushed voice.

Right here, right here

Spinning out, waiting for ya

I'm here, right here

Wishing I could be there for ya

Be there for ya

Be there for ya, for ya

Focusing on the conversation during lunch the following day was even harder than Eddie expected. Every time he tried to pay attention to whatever the table was discussing, his mind kept wandering off to think about you. Eddie had replayed the night in the Upside Down too many times, but he kept harboring so much guilt about it. What if I told her no? What if we didn’t go back? What if she stayed downstairs? What if I was with her? Eddie's mind frantically ran over the same questions, tormenting him. He kept sneaking glances over at where Robin was sitting, wondering whether or not he should ask if she heard from you. You and Eddie didn’t share the same lunch period or any of the same classes so it was impossible to know how your day was going. Maybe I’ll skip English and wait by her locker? No, that’s pathetic. You’ll see her in a couple of hours—

“…after that Nancy wants to visit y/n. Y’know make sure she’s okay after this morning, but maybe Nancy can drop me off afterwards.” Mike mentions nonchalantly to Dustin as he explains why he can’t make it to Will’s tonight.

“You didn’t bring your bike?” Dustin asks, but Mike has no time to answer before Eddie cuts him off.

Eddie feels his pulse thumping in his ears, “what happened this morning?”

“What do you mean?” Mike shakes his head, “she didn’t tell you?”

“Wheeler, what the fuck happened to her?”

“She passed out or something trying to go back upstairs before school, I don’t know you’d have to—”

Eddie doesn’t hear the rest of what Mike has to say before his chair is scraping across the tile floor of the cafeteria. He rushes out of the cafeteria and out of the school before any teachers notice—and if they do notice, no one stops him. Eddie turns over the key in his van, cursing over and over about how you should have called. He feels like he’s going crazy. You’re consuming his every thought, worry, feeling, action, emotion. Everything. You consume him entirely. He’s so deeply in love with you that all caution and rationality has been thrown out the window. Eddie drives like a mad man to get to your house as fast as he can; his arms are covered in goosebumps when he pulls up to your house. He pushes the car door open and practically spills out onto the pavement. His breathing is staggered when he slams a fist against the front door. Eddie gives one quick look around your driveway to determine your parents are not home. Screw it. He thinks as he turns the doorknob and barrels inside.

Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in (spinning out, waiting)

I can see you're lonely down there

Don't you know that I am right here?

Spinning out waiting for ya (for ya, for ya) to pull me in (for ya)

I can see you're lonely down there

Don't you know that I am right here?

You wake up to the sound of someone yelling your name through your house. For a moment you panic about the fact that someone is inside, but when the voice calls again you realize it’s Eddie. Every muscle in your body relaxes as you start to sit up in bed. Your head kills, but physically your body is starting to feel better.

“I’m in my room!” You call as you shuffle around your comforter. Swinging your legs over the edge, you sit on the bed waiting for Eddie. Eddie’s heavy steps bound up the stairs, and the door swings open before you realize he’s even made it to your room. His brown eyes are glossy as he scans over your entire room before rushing to your bedside. He collapses to his knees, his chest pressed into your legs as his arms wrap around your waist. You gasp at his dramatic display, but quickly you run your fingers through his curls. A smile pulls at your lips as you look down at him, “are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Fuck- are you okay?” Eddie asks in between sniffles pressed to your shirt. He leans back and wipes his face with his shaky hands. “Jesus, what happened?” He rests his palms on your thighs, rubbing his thumb over your skin softly. He frowns as he takes in the deep purple, yellow and red splotches that cover your skin from your fall.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, still moving your hands through his hair. “I was fine getting up this morning, but going down the stairs was a lot. So when I realized I left my keys upstairs I had to go back for them.” You try to smile at Eddie and calm him, but his face remains just as worried. “I was like half way up them when it all went blurry. Nancy found me there when she came to drive me to school.” Eddie’s blood runs cold thinking about how lifeless you must have looked laying on your stairs. He can’t see you get hurt again, he can’t lose you. “I begged her not to call you. Believe me, she wanted to. So please don’t be mad at her,” you give him a stern look, but there’s no reason to because Eddie will always listen to you. He nods as you continue, “I just didn’t want to worry you. I already knew how much of your day I took up yesterday, I made you late to Hellfire, you slept in a chair–”

“I wanted to.” Eddie replies without hesitation. You brush your hands over his curls again, giving him a weak smile. His heart pounds like a jackhammer against his ribs. I have to tell her, he decides. Every voice of reason screams for him to stop before he’s ruined it all… but Eddie can’t take it anymore.

“Eddie,” you frown. “I love how concerned you are for me. I do. You’re the best friend I could ask for–”

“Don’t do that,” Eddie’s voice catches as he speaks. His eyes dart away from yours as he stands to his full height.

“Do what?” You ask, trying to rise from the bed. Eddie fights every urge to tell you to sit back down so he can hold you.

“Don’t you know that I am right here? I want you to bother me. I want you to call me. I want you. I feel like– fuck. I feel like I’m going crazy, sweetheart.” Eddie bitterly laughs as he turns away from you. All of his emotions are battling each other as he combs a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m just spinning out waiting for you to pull me in. So please,” he begs. “Please just pull me in and tell me.”

“Tell you–”

“Tell me you love me,” a tear slips from his eyes and down his cheek. “Or just put me out of my misery.”

Spinning out, waiting for ya (for ya, for ya) to pull me in (for ya)

I can see you're lonely down there

Don't you know that I am right here?

Time stops just like it had when you fell. Eddie is certain he’s in an extremely lucid dream because there is no way he just professed his love for you like he had. He claimed he hated all those romantic movies you forced him to watch, but whenever he thought about telling you how he felt, he remembered all those corny movies. Eddie had planned for the large, romantic gesture to sweep you off your feet; instead he was in tears about losing you before he even had you. He felt like he was going crazy. There was nowhere to put all of these emotions that he felt for you. It all came so easily and naturally to him, he didn’t even realize how in love with you he was until Robin pointed it out. Now after seeing you hurt he couldn’t take it anymore, you had to know how he felt. The clock resets as Eddie stares down at you on the bed, he watches you play with your hands like you always do when you’re nervous.

Your mind feels like it’s in a fog. You knew how Eddie felt, but you couldn’t be sure he was only telling you because of everything that happened. You didn’t want him to feel pressured into saying how he felt all because you couldn’t make it up the stairs.

“I do love–” you start to say as your mind clears.

“Not like that,” Eddie turns to you. His voice is harsh, but all of his features remain soft as silent tears roll from his eyes. “You know what I meant Y/N.”

“Eddie,” you feel your own eyes starting to tear up as you watch him.

“Tell me. Either way– Christ. Just- please, just tell me.”

“Do you mean it?” You ask and Eddie starts to talk, but you raise a hand to him. “Not just because I’m hurt, or because Robin told you to tell me. Do you mean it?”

“Robin? What are you– You heard us?”

“I heard you through the floors. That’s, mmm,” you hesitate to continue. Eddie sinks down to meet your eyeline again. “I was trying to listen when I fell.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice is soft as uses a finger to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“I just want to make sure you’re not just saying it to say it.”

“I love you,” Eddie replies, his eyes lingering on your mouth. “I’m in love with you. I always have been. I would have told you no matter what. This,” he gestures to your bruises on your legs. “Just gave me the courage to say it.”

“Really?” The floodgates to your emotions break, every ounce of love you have for Eddie rushing to the front. Eddie slowly reaches his hands up from your legs to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Really,” Eddie smiles and all the mixed emotions have seemed to clear from his eyes.

“Come up here, please,” your voice wavers as you talk. Eddie wastes no time to climb onto the bed next to you. His thigh brushes yours as he sits down, you keep your focus on his legs as Eddie peers down at you. Eddie nudges your shoulder with his and tilts his head forward to try to meet your eyes. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. “We can’t mess this up, Eds. I can’t lose you.”

“I’m right here,” Eddie replies without any indecision. He will always be right here for you. Through the crazy, unpredictable, supernatural, natural, and everything in between. He squeezes your thigh once, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling yourself into his side. Eddie’s arms linger in the air for a second before he brings you even closer to him. Slowly, he lowers both of you down to lay on the bed; you keep your arms wrapped around his waist, not caring if his weight makes the one fall asleep. For the first time in days, it feels like your heart beats at a normal rate – slow and steady, as your breathing syncs with Eddie’s. “Eddie?” You look up at him, but he’s already smiling down at you. “I love you,” you profess feeling a weight lift off your chest and mind.

“I love you,” he smirks so wide his teeth start to peak out. Eddie turns his face down and presses a kiss to your hair; he’s done it a thousand times, but this time is different. It’s like you can feel all his love for you through it now. “So where should our first official date be?”

You humm for a moment trying to think of anywhere that would beat this moment, but you come up empty. You shrug and kiss the side of his ribs, “don’t know, but I’ll go anywhere with you.”

Eddie tries to ignore the way his heart flips, but he knows he’s going to have to get used to it now.

“What about a concert?” Eddie asks brushing away your hair from your face so he can trace your cheek bone. “I believe I heard somewhere that you wanted to scream your heart out at one.”

“You remembered that?” You laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. You lean up to fully look at Eddie; he’s flat on his back, one hand tucked under his head, his other tracing your cheek still.

“Of course I did,” Eddie says as if it’s a ridiculous question. “I remember everything you do.”

You can’t help yourself as you lean forward, your eyes glancing at his lips for a moment. Eddie meets you in the middle, his mouth is soft against yours as he draws you closer with his hands. He works his fingers from your face through your hair and keeps them at the base of your neck. Your lips melt into Eddie’s, he tastes like mint and tobacco — it’s addictive. He works his mouth over yours, his tongue traces your bottom lip gently. Eddie pulls away with a grin, moving his hand from your hair to brush his thumb over your bottom lip. You whine as his lips leave yours, causing him to smile more.

“Easy sweetheart,” Eddie says, pulling at your lip again. “Take me on a date first.”

You tilt your head at him, “oh, really?”

“Fuck no,” Eddie breaks. He pulls you closer, his focus back on your mouth, “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

ahhhh my (user)name-sake <<33 I love this song so much, I am a satellite girly thru and thru... gotta love a sad song with a happy beat

next in the series: boyfriends - s.h.

✭masterlist ✭ requests

-meg

#eddie munson #eddie munson writing #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fics #st x harrys house #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson angst

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tallatonk · 1 month

Text

The hideduo fic i promised. Any comments or thoughts on this are appreciated, this is still a work in progress! Fic is under the cut.

tw: small tiny cannibalism mention, teehee

When You’re Too Scared To Say I Love You

Fit grabbed the nearest book and erased its contents in a rush. The pit in his stomach swelling, the urge to write this letter for Pac is strong. He had so much to say and so little time, the sense that someone, or something, was watching him plagued him all day.

A shaky breath left him as he picked up his pen to write.

“Dear Pac,” he mumbled as he scribbled through the book. “I miss you so much, I wish you were here right now.” Fit stared into the page, god he can’t say that.

This was so embarrassing. Not that loving Pac was embarrassing, but rather trying to pour his heart out about exactly what he was feeling was. The world suddenly felt like it was going to implode, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his mind he never shared with the man. Yet here he was, too scared to write a few simple words.

He’s one of the toughest people on the server, hardened by the years of 2b2t. His life had been and still is filled with pain, war, and the type of things that would put fear into most. But out of all of that, this scared him the most. This was the first thing in years to make his palm sweat and feel as if he was on hardcore mode.

It was both infuriating and infatuating, the way Pac affected him this much almost too much but not enough at the same time.

Fit pressed his hands into his face, as if it would help his internal battle, groaning to himself he looked towards the letter again. He can do this, he’s got this. He felt that deep sleep feeling coming, so this had to happen. He had to write this letter. He deleted what he wrote before, forcing his thoughts to focus on a new letter..

He’d restart the letter over and over again as long as he could, the best for Pac.

“I haven't seen you in many days, I hope you are enjoying your sleep. I have been feeling very tired recently and I feel like I will be having a very long sleep soon,” his heart felt it was beating out of his chest as he thought about the possibility he wouldn’t be able to see Pac again. He continued, pushing those negative thoughts in the back of his mind . “If I don’t see you for a while, I want you to know how special you are to me.” That's it, he thought after mumbling those last words, this is how he’ll say it.

Fit paused, reading his words over as though he finally said it to Pac in person.

“I know we haven’t been able to spend much time together, but you are always on my mind. It doesn’t matter how often you spend time with someone, it matters how much you think about them.” The American's eyes begin to sting, he pretends it's the sudden tiredness rather than the tears threatening to fall.

“The next time I see you, I have a lot of things I want to say. Good things, don’t worry.” He lets out a small, bittersweet laugh as a warm tear runs down his cheek. Would he even be able to say what he wants when he sees Pac next? He can barely get down what to say in a letter, but in person?

It feels impossible.

He shakes his head and smiles to himself, he’ll do this the only way he knows how.

“But until then, I hope you are doing well and enjoying yourself. Also, my robe has been SUPER soft since you gave it back to me, so I owe you! I’ll have more fofoca soon! Yours truly, Fit.” He covers his feelings with jokes, just like always.

Something that Pac probably figured out about him by now.

The pain was nauseating, the wounds scoring down his chest to his stomach made him want to curl up and die. Fit was stuck in this cave for 2 weeks. 2 weeks surrounded by dead bodies and rock. 2 weeks of being on half a heart and unable to eat anything. The desire to go back to his old ways called to him, to consume the rotted flesh in front of him. He couldn’t do it, with everything Madagio told him– these were their friends, their fellow island members.

Fit threw his head back in agony and screamed. He screamed until his lungs hurt, until his face grew red. He didn’t stop until he was sure the whole empty island heard him. His voice broke as he began to sob. Fit was stuck here, all alone. Things always came back to this, him all alone surrounded by the dead.

How i want it to finish--- Something something he doesn't wanna eat people, he breaks down and cries, he screams at the bodies and Madagio, and regrets not telling Pac he loves him. He cries out that he loves him and that he wishes he can see him again. He thinks he's gonna die down here, he mentions that at least he’ll see Max and the dead eggs again, and maybe even get to punch Spreen for leaving him and Ramon.

#this might be ooc but who cares #im gay #NEW TAG TIME #talla writes #qsmp #qsmp fitmc #qsmp pac #fitmc #pactw #hideduo #fitpac #qsmp fanfiction #hideduo fanfic

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vitanithepure · 9 months

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Gale and Mystra

Ok, first thing I wanna talk about, what absolutely lives rent-free in my mind since I finished my first run is how much I love the companion's personal stories. I will for sure make an Origin run with most of them. I want to know every last detail about those pixel people.

With no surprise on nobody's part - I want to talk about Gale first. I believe I once said my OC Vitani and I share exactly one brain cell and it is consumed with thoughts about that wizard.

He did get a bit of a lift up when it comes to the story we knew from EA and it turned out absolutely fabulous. I won't be focusing on our relationship with the man as much as his with Mystra, the goddess of magic. This would be far too long otherwise, there is just too much to say.

Regardless, this will also be a long one, and full of spoilers for his story, so be warned. Placing it all under the cut.

First, some facts. It turns out, from my understanding, that Gale was not after Mystra's godhood, quite contrary to his bio on the website (which I find…weird) but rather tried to ascend by himself. He was impatient; he wanted more, and he wanted it now - and Mystra was not willing to grant his wishes. It goes without saying he was in the wrong, no explanation needed.

So, to convince Mystra to share even more with him, he decided to "screw flowers" and tried to get her what turned out to be that cursed Netherese orb. At least, that is what he thought. We know that this went horribly wrong and Gale was not only stuck with magic he can barely control, but severed from means to stop it - as Mystra, understandably, abandoned him.

Which is also to say how little she actually cares about other mortals, leaving a ticking bomb to run free in the Realms. We could assume that, in her "infinite wisdom" she trusted Gale to do the right thing and just go on and die somewhere remote, like he planned to if he ever started to lose control of the orb. Not really sure what lesson is there to give through such a punishment, that is for Mystra to answer, I don't get it :)

This is when we meet Gale, humbled, but not giving up. I don't want to repeat myself too much as I did a breakdown of his EA content a while back [link here] and not much changed in that regard, his slight rewrite didn't change my opinion on how and why he does and says to us.

So, moving on:

The juicy part truly begins when Elminster shows up and drops the bomb (heh…) about what Mystra expects of Gale… I instantly went with "ok, yeah, here it is, my heartbreak I've been waiting for". And from that point, he seems so…resigned. I can't imagine what a person in his position goes through? Not sure I want to. Can you imagine that? Someone you genuinely looked up to, perhaps even loved, in the past, someone holding infinite power over magic in this world, hell, someone holding power over you asks you to forfeit your life to deserve forgiveness? Damn, D&D gods are stone cold.

Like, I get it, and I try not to excuse Gale. He did a terrible thing, a horrible breach of trust and who knows what kind of person it would make him if he succeeded. As it is, though, it shows such an awful imbalance in power. Mystra was never in any real danger, she proves this by being able to control the orb, decides that this - already humbled and regretful - man has to die to make it okay with her?

Even though she clearly sees he learned his lesson? And she could remove the orb at literally any time? Because that is what she presents him with if he refuses to just lie down and die for her. She will remove the orb if he brings her Karsus's Crown, along with the netherstones - the thing the Elder Brain possesses.

I don't know what happens if we go along Gale's plan to control the crown himself, possibly nothing good (I am about to find out, I so desperately want to see his whole arc, from every perspective), so here I want to finish off with how it ended for me on my first run - with a complete redemption, both in his and Mystra's eyes.

Gale recognized his folly and, in hindsight, agreed he had everything a mortal man could ever possess and lost it to his arrogance and ambition. But also him realizing "no love was lost between them" makes me simply happy, he is healed at this point.

From what I gathered, he finishes his story by becoming the Chosen of Mystra once again. Still curious, because how could he not be with his love for magic, but knowing his limits. No longer known as Gale of Waterdeep, but Gale Dekarios, your neighborhood nerdy wizard with a good tale to spin over some wine in the Yawning Portal.

And seriously, fuck the D&D gods with their mortal flaws.

#gale of waterdeep #mystra #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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raspberrysunshinebby · 1 year

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Two Choices

Chapter 9

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel (not rlly)

Summary: The future wife of Eris never cared much for mating bonds, she had spent years in love with Eris and when Beron finally died they could be together. He has full intention to make his love into his High Lady until at a party meant to celebrate Eris’ reign the girl finds herself finding her mate, Azriel.

Warnings: none in this chapter.

A/N: Sorry this literally took forever, I had the biggest writers block on this and was working on other stories. Also with my taglist please comment under this post if I missed you because my doc for it got messed up.

Word Count: 2677

Leaving in the Night wasn’t an option for us, instead opting to leave in the morning when fewer people would be awake. Many fae and other creatures were nocturnal in this area apparently.

The girl with an Afro, whose name I learned was Fern, gave me some extra clothes. A outfit with black pants, a slight corset, and a white top, I was also given a pair of boots so it’d be easier to travel. It sort of reminded me of what I’d wear when my brothers would take me hunting with them, except I wouldn’t wear so tight since that wasn’t an Autumn Court thing.

Once everyone else was set to go we went off, when traveling I noticed how they kept Corbin and me at the front most likely to keep an eye on us. I found this kind of funny when I was paying them, I didn’t say anything though, and kept walking. I ended up also taking this opportunity to get to know Corbin, when we traveled alone we didn’t get a chance to really talk. More bonding over us both doing our best to get out of the Night Court without dying or getting brought back.

“I was already planning on leaving,” Corbin told me, “I have friends in The Court of Nightmares, ones who are slaves basically. They're not by name but based on how they're treated, they’re slaves. High Lord Rhysand is so content on just leaving The Court of Nightmares alone, he thinks everyone in there is a monster, but they're not. I already helped my friends get out, I’m gonna meet them in the Summer Court.”

“Why did you want to help me then?” I asked, softly.

“High Lord Rhysand pisses me off, I couldn’t let what happened to my mother happen to someone else while Rhysand stood there.”

“What about High Lady Feyre? Why doesn’t she do anything?” I questioned, I didn’t get to talk or really learn about anyone in the Night Court during my time there, too consumed with what was going on already with Azriel.

“She barely learned how to read two years ago, I don't blame her for that but she’s not educated enough to be a High Lady. So that’s why she’s not involved in any of the Court affairs. She’s honestly more of a consort than a High Lady. Nothing wrong with being a consort but still.”

He paused for a moment before speaking, “Oh yea there's also the Illyrian camps, how Rhysand hasn’t done anything to truly fix it is beyond me.”

“All he does is send Cassian to train some female Illyrians every once in a while then leave.” I heard the Illyrian girl, Wren, say bitterly.

“I don't wanna overstep, but did you run away from one?” I asked her.

“Yes.” That was all she said, I wanted to ask for more information but she looked angry at the mere mention of it, so I didn’t.

We walked for a while more until we passed the border, the relief that hit my chest after we did was intense. I looked toward Corbin who gave me a smile and a nod before we continued. Corbin would later tell me how there was a slight skip in my step.

We wanted to stay as far away from people as possible after we got out of the mountains, which would take hours for us to get through, so we opted to camp in a cave, by the exit of the mountains, we found for a while until it hit nightfall and not many would be awake. A fire in the camp we made kept us warm from the cool air of the cave while many of us napped or just rested to savor the energy for the trip.

I sat on a rock that stood by the fire, well one I moved to be a seat by the fire while staring at the beautiful scenery of the Day Court. The day court was so bright, filled with so many blues and greens a part of me never thought I’d see outside of Valeris again; I watched the clouds with an empty mind until I heard someone sit on the ground on the other side of the fire. I looked to see Blythe sitting on the other side, warming up.

Finally able to get a good look at his face I realized that he wasn’t ugly, he was actually quite attractive. Blythe was a man with a hard face, mean-looking face, and short brown hair that didn’t cover his cyan eyes and I also noticed like Fern, his ears were down-pointed. He noticed me analyzing his face and looked toward me.

“What is it?” He asked me.

“Nothing,” I replied, “I just hadn’t gotten a good look at your face, you didn’t look how you did in my mind.”

“Did you think I was ugly?” He asked.

“Why would I think you were ugly?” I replied fast.

He smirked, “You thought I was ugly.” He grabbed a stick to play with the fire.

“Okay I didn’t think you were ugly, I just didn’t have a good look at your face and I wasn’t sure whether or not you were,” I tried to think of a word to say, “were ugly?”

He snickered at that, “So you thought I was gonna be ugly?”

I rolled my eyes at him, causing a chuckle out of him before he spoke, “Catch this.”

I opened my hands to catch whatever he was going to throw at me before thinking and quickly caught something wrapped in linen. I opened the linen to find a big piece of bread that looked like it was baked in herbs. I looked up to him, “You're skinny,” He said “You need to get some meat on your bones. We’ll have a proper meal tonight when we go out, but for now just have some bread.”

I nodded to him in a thank you before eating, as my brother had once said ‘she looks skinny and dead’. I really needed to gain weight, especially if I wanted to be able to walk all the way to the Winter Court. I needed to be healthy enough to do it.

I ate my bread pretty quickly, I didn’t realize how hungry I actually was, with me chewing on food Blythe and I sat in silence, well until we heard a crashing in a deep part of the cave.

Blythe and I quickly sat up from our spots, worried of what the commotion could be. Blythe reached over to where the others napped to wake them up, I woke up Corbin before noticing that the man with the pretty face wasn’t here.

“Where’s Auden?” I heard Fern ask, I shrugged my shoulders at her, unsure as well.

The little boy, Oliver, got up quickly from his spot on the floor, drawing his sword in the process and peering into the darkness in the cave.

“I think its best we find Auden and then leave,” Corbin said, still a little groggy, “It’ll be nightfall soon so we might as well leave early.”

“Yea but we need to find Auden!” Wren whispered. You could see it on her face that she was worried.

Oliver continued peering down the cave looking for a sign of disturbance. Corbin followed behind him, peering on the other side of the cave wall with a knife at his hand, where he got said knife I didn’t ask.

“Do you know how to fight?” Wren asked me.

My brothers had taught me little, just enough to defend myself when I was younger, but being the childhood champion of the Heir to the Autumn Court made it so that Silas’s parenting on me was closely watch in order to not ‘infect’ his son, Eris and I once overheard Beron say that to my brother. We both walked away in disgust.

I shook my head, “A little, but not really.”

Wren placed a knife in my hand, “If whatever that is gets close to you, stab it. Simple isn’t it?”

I nodded to her, “Simple.”

We waited, not even breaths were heard as we waited. Eventually after a minute we heard a gargle-like noise from deep inside it, “We need to leave.” I heard Blythe say.

“No.” Wren said firmly, “Not without Auden.”

“What without me?” I heard a voice behind me, I turned to see Auden with his blonde hair and skinny figure standing there, completely fine.

I looked to see Wren blinking before grabbing Oliver by his shoulder, Oliver putting away his sword as whatever it was growled down the cave. I looked to Blythe to see him motioning towards the entrance of the cave. I moved to grab Corbin’s wrist before following Blythe out of the cave, the others following before him.

I did my best to move as swiftly as I could before leaping out of the cave with the others, holding onto our blankets and pillows that we silently decided to put back into our packs after we got away from whatever that thing was. We continued to run for a few miles, just in case.

We finally stopped near a clearing and that was the spot we’d decided to put our things back away, Wren and Fern laughing together about how dumb that situation was while I helped Corbin fold up his blanket.

“Auden. What were you doing away from us?” I heard Blythe ask Auden. I tried not to look like I was listening to the conversation but it was hard not to. “I was gonna go hunting, so we didn’t have to worry about dinner and just keep moving.”

I heard Blythe sigh, “You can't run off like that, we thought whatever was in there took you!” He raised his voice.

Now it was even weirder listening to this conversation, but at least I knew I wasn’t the only one listening with everyone else’s heads perked up as they all listened to the conversation.

Blythe looked at us all, sighed, then grabbed Auden by the shoulder. “We’ll be continuing this conversation, Wren will go find a restaurant for us to eat.”

Wren nodded before taking off flying to go find a town and restaurant, especially one that can feed our group.

The rest of us kind of sat around while we waited, Oliver played with his sword clearly just a bored child. Corbin and I layed around on the ground and Fern took some things out of her bag to put in her hair.

It was around ten minutes when Auden finally came back without Blythe, he looked embarrassed and defeated as he sat on the ground next to Corbin.

“Where's Blythe?” I asked, sitting myself up.

It took Auden a second, “Blythe’s mad, he yelled at me for ten minutes straight before sending me off.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have ran off.” I heard Fern say, “Blythe gets worried sick when he doesn’t know where we are, you know that Auden.”

I stood up from my spot, “Where's the snacks?” I asked Fern, she pointed toward a bag on the floor.

I looked through the bag to find some basic snacks and decided to grab some bread, cheese, and some meat. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was but I grabbed it anyway. I wrapped all of them in some spare linen before walking towards where I saw Auden come from, Fern shouting behind me to be careful and not die.

I followed a dirt path on the ground that led to a river, it was connected to a waterfall and had huge rocks around it, and Blythe sat on the ground ontop of a rock by the river, he looked to be playing with something in his hand. As I walked closer I realized it was a knife that he swung in it, the knife danced around his fingers as he didn’t even notice me approaching him.

“Blythe?” I said in my best soft voice, I didn’t stand too close behind him just enough to make sure he heard me. He put his knife back into its holder before turning to me, “What is it?” He said giving me a look.

With how angry he seemed it made me feel some anxiety, I made an awkward smile before lifting up the items I’d brought. “I have snacks.” I said, he nodded to me.

“Why?” He asked, “Wren is looking for a restaurant right now.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Yea but who know how long that’ll be, plus the wait time and stuff its gonna be a little bit and I haven’t seen you eat much.” I pushed my arm out toward him, “Here.”

He grabbed the food from me, he turned back to use his knife to cut open the bread to make a sandwich, I was preparing myself to leave thinking Blythe wanted to be left alone. I moved my hands behind my back and began walking to join the rest of the group before Blythe spoke up, “Sit.” I looked over to see him patting a spot next to him on the rock.

I turned back around to follow his instruction, as I sat next to him I noticed he was making two sandwiches, he stopped making the second one to pass the first to me. Blythe simply gave me a nod before continuing to make his own. It didn’t take long to make the sandwich, but I still waitied until Blythe was done and he’d began eating before I began eating my own.

Blythe and I didn’t speak after this, only enjoying nature and basking in the silence as we ate together. I felt awkward at first before I began to enjoy it, I’d never felt a quiet presence with anyone before, I’d always felt a little pressured to always be talking so never turns awkward. I’d never even been fully quiet with Eris or Azriel, only quiet when I was mad at Azriel or having a breakdown caused by him and only quiet when Eris had told me to, which wasn’t often, I swear it was like twice.

I’d lost count of how long we’d been there, even quiet after we’d finished eating. My knees were close to my chest a Blythe and I watched the river flow. I quickly realized how much I enjoyed the smell of dirt and grass, it felt like it was all around me at the moment. I realized how for the first time in months, I was relaxed. I was away from the Night Court, I was getting farther and farther away from Azriel and I was relaxed.

I looked over when a noise come out behind us, I saw Oliver coming to approach us, Blythe looked behind us as well as we waited for Oliver to talk.

“Wren sent me to tell you guys to come back, she found a restaurant to eat at.” Oliver said, Blythe nodded to him before Oliver left to go back to the others.

I jumped off the rock and whipped myself off from the dirt on it, then whipped my hands together before grabbing the remnants of the food that we’d already wrapped up then I started to walk back.

“Y/N” I heard Blythe say from behind me, I looked over to see Blythe standing there, “I apologize for kidnapping you and Corbin.”

I shrugged at him, “Hey it happens, plus your getting a lot of money out of it.”

“Did you seriously just say, ‘hey it happens’?” Blythe said.

“I mean most of my brothers have been kidnapped, it was bound to happen to me.”

Blythe’s face looked shocked, “That’s a story your telling me at dinner.”

I laughed before moving to continue walking, still snickering at the fact of Blythe being surprised at my brothers being kidnapped, which I lied about cause I thought it was funny and now I wanted to see how long I could keep the lie up before he meet my brothers.

#acotar #acotar x reader #Eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris x reader #Azriel #azriel x reader

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missbabyjay · 1 year

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What Is This? - Joel Miller x F Reader

TLOU SPOILERS!

MASTERLIST - CHECK OUT MY PAGE FOR MORE!

HI! This takes place in my own made up dimension lol. I followed parts of the actual show, and then completely disregarded other parts. I plan on leaving Bill and Frank in, but I wasn't sure about Tess (no hate to her character). This is sorta self-indulgent so I hope you enjoy anyway! I think I might make a part two but I need to know what y'all think :)

I'd also like to point out that I am just becoming familiar with Joel. I would like to keep him rough around the edge, but I think there's truly a sweet person under there and I need some fluffier stuff with him. I'm seeing way too many pieces where Joel is next level crazy. So this is for my fluff lovers.

Warnings/Content: Mature, Swearing, Angst, injury, the tiniest bit of fluff

Summary: You and Joel don't particularly enjoy each other, but with the shared responsibility of Ellie you're stuck together - being forced to address whatever weird thing there is between you two.

Word Count: 2K

. . .

You had been working alongside Joel for the past two years. You had met through Tess, doing odd jobs for her. Joel never seemed to trust you, although he never really trusted anyone. He didn’t enjoy your attitude, and found you to be sloppy at your job. The two of you were similar in one way; you had enough of the corrupt shit occurring in the QZ. You wanted to get away, you craved freedom - even if that meant living among the infected. You craved life outside of the walls… away from FEDRA.

Besides that, you and Joel butt heads like two mountain goats; fighting for dominance in the partnership you shared. You both had cold, yet overpowering personalities. Your morals were long gone. You both had an incredible amount of trauma constantly sitting on your shoulders, making the linger of tension much stronger between you two.

You insisted that you’d be able to handle yourself outside of the walls. You had experienced life among the ruined world before making it to Boston… how did he figure you ended up there anyway? The only reason you agreed to transporting Ellie was in hopes of finding new life, somewhere far away from the Boston QZ. With or without Joel, you didn’t care. In fact, you could say you were using him as leverage to get out of here - he knew the secret ways out, where to go when you reached the open world outside of the large, consuming and towering walls that encapsulated you within the fucked up corrupt society you lived in.

It had been a tense few days since you left the QZ. Plans changed and you were left with the responsibility of Ellie; something neither you or Joel really wanted. You trudged your feet forward, following behind the two. You knew there were a few places that Joel stashed extra items, making you hopeful for a pit stop. Your legs ached, sending shooting pains to your feet. Each step you took forward made you wince with pain… this sort of trek was easier before you got comfortable with your sedentary life within the QZ.

“We’re gonna stop right up here, stay back… I’m gonna check inside,” Joel instructed you and Ellie.

You sighed, sending a gentle smile to Ellie who reciprocated. You appreciated Ellie’s attitude. She didn’t really have much of a filter and she stood up for herself; respectable for a fourteen year old, you thought to yourself. You wished you were the same way when you were fourteen. You will never forget being that age; that was the year the outbreak began.

As always, you didn’t listen to Joel. You proceeded forward causing him to let out a low, powerful, “No.” To which you responded by rolling your eyes.

The two of you followed behind Joel, and when you entered the building you were met with a run down gas station. Yet the ravaged sight was genuinely nostalgic to you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were in a gas station. Your brain flooded back to pre-apocalyptic life, a time where life was enjoyable; renting a movie, grabbing a slushy, indulging in some candy. Your hands glided along the dust covered shelves as you walked down the aisle. Ellie wandered off while Joel searched for his stash.

“So what’s your plan, old man?” You muttered to Joel as he continued trying to retrace his steps.

“Why’s it matter to you? Thought you could handle this on your own,” he grunted.

You continued tracing shapes and drawing in the dust, dragging your feet along. “You’d like that. Wouldn’t you?”

Joel stopped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You continued stalking the aisles, but now you were staring into Joel’s eyes. He looked angry, a look that was quite familiar to you.

“I know you don’t even want me here. I don’t even want to be here with you. I’m sure there’s better people out there anyway,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes sarcastically.

Joel stopped his scattered movements to face you, quickly removing the space between the two of you.

His hand forcefully made its way to your delicate neck, pushing you against the end cap of the aisle. Your eyes widened as you gasped for air, “Look girl, you know you wouldn’t survive out there without me. And after losing Tess? I’m not losing you either.”

Joel stared into your eyes, into your soul. Your neck gulped under the strong grip of his hand - you struggled to gasp, your lungs were begging for air. He finally let go, causing you to intake a deep breath, trying to find the words, but instead tears began to well and you hurried out of the busted gas station.

Joel knew he fucked up. He didn’t know what came over him, but he couldn’t lose you or Ellie. Not necessarily out of love, but for the sake of his own ego, and guilt. Joel couldn’t handle anymore of that.

“Ellie!” He yelled out, searching for her in the building.

She slowly slid around the corner of the small office space, “What the fuck was that dude?”

Joel shook his head, “Let’s go. Now.” He demanded.

To Ellie’s surprise Joel ran out of the building. She quickly followed behind.

. . .

Your heart was racing as your chest expanded and closed in at a rapid pace. You tripped on a large tree chunk, leaving you sprawled on the ground. You pushed yourself to stand with the limited energy you had left. Your hands held you up as you used your knees for support, trying to not put too much pressure on your weak and injured foot. You attempted to get ahold of your breathing; the tears still falling down your dirtied face like a waterfall.

You didn’t understand… he cared about you?

The way he treated you since the beginning just didn’t match up with his words. What kind of game was he playing? He would throw cold, intimidating bitterness towards you for any small mistake. He didn't hesitate to put you in your place, and never paid you any attention that wasn't direly necessary.

You didn’t remember what it felt like to be cared about. You always ran from affection… even before the apocalypse.

You heard your name being called from afar, awakening your fight or flight to kick in - you wanted to run, as far as you could, but your body couldn’t withstand anymore; your legs continued to ache, your ankle was agonizing and your lungs felt like they were filled with blood. You were far more out of shape than you thought, leaving your inner weakness to overtake you.

You decided to let the universe decide your destiny - you laid on the ground and waited, like bait. Either for Joel to find you, or an infected.

Your eyes wandered above you. You soaked in the leafy green trees towering over you. The sounds of nature filling your ears. The warm wind blowing against your rough skin. The earth below you felt cool and comforting. Your breathing began to slow and you found your eyes becoming heavy. As much as you wanted to fight it, you let them close and soon you were met with a hazy half-ass slumber - the best you could get in an apocalypse.

. . .

Joel felt panic wash over him. He just told you he couldn’t lose you, and yet here he was searching for you. “Where could she be?” he questioned as he began to feel that all too familiar feeling - guilt.

Ellie joined him in calling your name. She felt nervous too. She wasn’t sure if she could handle Joel after losing another person. His bitterness made this journey much harder, a journey she didn’t choose to be on.

Joel stopped dead in his tracks, and reached his arm out to stop Ellie from proceeding. He slowly raised his gun, and cautiously began walking forward, taking small, quiet steps in order to avoid creating too much noise. He didn’t have much ammo left and he had to make the most of it.

He saw a body laying in the middle of the path, could it be an infected? Or just a dead body? His heart dropped when he noticed it was you; eyes closed, body limp. His mind wandered to the worst possible place.

“Y/N!” He shook you lightly, cautiously, unsure of the situation. Just hopeful that you were okay. He saw your chest rising, indicating you were well alive. He soaked in the view of your face; your parted chapped lips, the delicate crows feet nestled beside your eyes, the dirt that laid on your face - that still looked so soft to him.

. . .

Your peaceful slumber was broken as your body was gently shook. You bolted up - defencive being the first thing you felt anytime you woke from sleep. “Y/N, woah girl it’s just me, Joel” his voice cooed, bringing you back to reality as he rubbed your arm.

“Oh, you,” fell out of your lips sarcastically, brushing Joel off as quickly as you could. You didn’t want to feel his touch - you didn’t know how to process his touch. Joel made you want to feel cared for again, maybe.

“I’m just uh- gonna go like 10 feet over there and let you two figure out whatever this is…” Ellie announced, awkwardly making her way over to a nearby tree where she could prop herself against, somewhat comfortably, while being able to protect her back.

You both eyed Ellie as she walked, both knowing she was your responsibility to protect, but also knowing the two of you had to figure out whatever fucked up situation this was.

You began to massage your ankle, wincing in pain. Fuck, what did I do. Joel looked down over you, concern and anger were plastered on his face.

“Why the fuck did you run Y/N? What is wrong with you? I said you couldn’t handle being alone and here I fucking find you… asleep in the middle of a forest… so vulnerable,” he exclaimed, aggressively grabbing your arm to pull you to your feet.

You resisted, but his power was all too much for you to fight against. The weight of yourself bearing on your ankle made it difficult for you to stand. You shrugged your shoulders. You weren’t sure exactly why you ran. Joel’s words made you feel something that you didn’t want to feel. You didn’t want a connection to anyone. You knew this sort of life meant relying on yourself and only yourself, and Joel was making that difficult.

You looked up to meet Joel's brown eyes. His dusted face looked concerned, not angry, for once. “Look, what you said… I'm not used to people saying that kinda shit to me. It’s hard to hear that someone doesn’t want me dead, I usually assume the opposite considering no one really cares about other people in this world,” you muttered out, struggling to keep contact with Joel's gaze.

Your body tensed as you were suddenly pulled into Joel's embrace. It wasn’t necessarily loving, but it felt protective. “Well I do care. I’m not gonna lose you. You may annoy the shit out of me but my world would be too quiet without your bitching,” he whispered into your ear. Sure, the words weren’t romantic or anything, but you knew Joel was being genuine.

You pushed Joel away, “Okay,” you grunted, sending him a feeble smile through your pursed lips. “I’m gonna need you to tape me up. I fucked up my ankle earlier,” you lamented.

Joel shook his head, “Of course you did. Here, sit back down,” he glowered. He called over Ellie to assist him and the two managed to tape your ankle making you able to lazily follow behind them as you continued your journey.

“Where to?” you questioned, not sure what kind of answer you’d receive.

“Bill and Franks,” Joel muttered, waving you over to come closer to him. “Get on my back, you shouldn’t walk on that ankle of yours,” he insisted. You obliged, you’d be crazy to turn down his offer. Your ankle was throbbing and you could use a break considering you still had a few hours of your hike to get through.

As Joel readjusted you on his back your body became quite comfortable. You nuzzled your chin in between his shoulder and neck, embracing his warmth and surprisingly nodding off into a light snooze.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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aweisz · 3 months

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i wanted to write a thing, so i did. how different ghouls die.

cw for (obviously) death, some non-graphic body horror (i think?), earth being a somewhat toxic mother. no specific ghouls die, everything is abstract.

a ghoul's life is typically longer than a human's, when it doesn't end in an unnatural way. few ghouls live long enough for nature to take its toll, but if they do, it is its own kind of beauty.

when a fire ghoul's life nears the end, they run progressively hotter and brighter, until their body can't handle the flames inside it. the skin chars and cracks, revealing the liquid fire that all their existence gave them life, but now is threatening to consume them whole. and when it does, the ghoul doesn't go out with a bang; they slowly get worse while their body sizzles and burns away.

water ghouls succumb to their element in a different, but no less beautiful, way. their skin becoming translucent, thinner; their insides watery. they tend to spend the last weeks of their existence in the depths of the nearest lake, engulfed by water and slowly dissolving in it, until nothing is left of their bodies.

some call the deaths of quintessence ghouls poetic. "returning to the stars they came from," they say. from a certain point of view, they are right, of course; how else could you describe something you have no understanding of? if you ask a quintessence ghoul though, you will get a completely different picture. all-encompassing fear of what will inevitably happen to them is the most common answer. when something heavy settles in your chest that you can't get rid of however hard you try; when you start to hear whispers that grow into voices that grow into screams, all beckoning you to join them, to look behind the veil of this plane of existence; when parts of your body vanish with gushes of smoke; what can you feel except fear for what will come? and when the last piece of you goes out with the same smoke, ascending to the sky, maybe a new star will light. poetic.

air ghouls don't feel the same fear as some other ghouls, what they feel is more like contentment, a kind of satisfaction that can't be understood by any other. when their time comes, they find it harder and harder to stay close to the ground, to walk among others. the sky calls to them, and one day they can't resist its call, going up and up and up, never to be seen again.

the earth doesn't call to her ghouls, she welcomes them back, a loving mother to her stray children. she gives them signs, hints of sort, that she awaits them — moss starts growing on their horns, vines cling to their fingers, tugging gently, asking them to return where they truly belong. in theory, an earth ghoul could resist their mother, reject her signs, get as far from her as possible just to live a little longer; she doesn't like that. if she decided that her child has to return, then they will. the earth will open under the ghoul's feet and swallow them whole, not giving them the option to run away anymore. and she will punish them for it, making them wish they followed her suggestions when they were still that — suggestions.

#im not a writer but i write sometimes #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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justinewrites · 4 months

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Yo I don't really post snippets in public because I have a hard time thinking any one bit of writing is good enough to post on its own but

listen

you can have this one. First pass at a scene between Lucy and Nate (if you've seen me post about my pirate blorbos at all you know they CONSUME ME) after they've fucked nasty for the first time. Not explicit. Suicidal ideology within. Utter devotion ahead. Simping? I think the kids call it simping.

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Nate did not sleep.

He dozed for a moment, succumbing to weariness and the alluring warmth of the bed. When he jolted awake, there she was -- alive and real and naked and next to him. Moonlight lanced through the curtains and fell upon her slumbering visage, illuminating the angelic nature of her features: wild, holy enough to burn his eyes out.

The desire to self destruct, a constant and once humble companion, had never been so strong. He shouldn’t have done this, allowing himself one night to experience the best this life had to offer only to finally, truly experience its absence. But what was the fucking point of living otherwise? He’d drown himself in the ocean come dawn. A happy death.

He could have been content in the wanting. The wanting, like the need for dying, had been with him his whole life and this was no different. It was the having that he couldn’t abide, not when he could not have it forever. The truth of it lying on the bed before him hurt so much more than anything his imagination could conjure. A vast emptiness yawned ahead: life after Lucy, not simply without.

Because this? Could not be real. It could not be constant — his usual companions were never so sweet. Lucy tossed her lovers aside like the bones of the animals she’d eaten and Nate was bloody grateful but also his life was over. She’d eaten her fill.

Given the slightest chance, he’d crack himself open and show her there was still marrow left, just for an extra minute, a moment more of her lips on him, before he was cast out to sea.

She blinked her eyes open, her lashes the wings of a dark butterfly stirring from the bloom. The corner of her mouth pulled in a slow smirk. “Already up?” she murmured, stroking a scorching finger over his cheekbone. “Haven’t I run you ragged?”

“I’m still breathing,” he said. A boyish hope blossomed in his chest, seized immediately by cynicism’s wicked vice. “There’s some life left for you to ruin.”

She examined his face, held his unwavering gaze. “You liked it.” Nate found himself at a rare loss for words. The statement would have been insulting, infuriating, had it not been uttered by those specific lips. He opened his mouth and a prayer almost tumbled out. The confession of his suicidal contemplations fought to escape. Liked it? He was bereft of purpose without it.

“I like how you kneel,” she said when he only gaped like a fish. “I like how you look at me. I’ve never been properly pleased by a man and not seen shame in his eyes.”

Shame? Shame? Shame was for Adam in the garden weeping at his own nakedness. Nate had always been the serpent, crawling on his belly and greedily devouring the remnants of fruits falling to the ground. Now the fruit, the whole bloody tree, came with his name on her lips and God would have to kill him Himself to make him stop crawling back for more.

“You’re such a good boy,” she murmured, just the way she had last night, the way that broke him into a million fiery stars. “You’ll be good for me on the ship, too, won’t you? If I call you to my cabin? Sometimes when you’re being good at your job I just want to do the most terrible things to you.”

Nate laughed, a wheeze, and then couldn’t remember how to get the air back for a moment. “Love, you could rise to Heaven and I’d find a way to break in just to hear you say my name. You’ll never be rid of me.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with equal parts salvation and doom. “I’ve heard of worse curses,” she said, her lips so close the words branded themselves into his skin. “And I don’t think you’ll need to worry about Heaven.”

He’d die for her. He’d kill for her. And now it seemed that the least likely of all was before him: he might get back on that ship tomorrow and live for her.

#neptune's hoard and other treasures #lucyxnate #writing #writeblr #pirates #snippets

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selfidentifiednerdyprude · 11 months

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okay, I'm going to need you to all listen, because it seems like some people don't understand:

I could not, and I truly do mean could not, conceivably have less fucking interest in litigating who "counts" as ace or aro.

you like to have sex for reasons that don't involve attraction? you feel like romance best describes the type of relationship you're in even though you also identify as aro? you enjoy consuming content about either of the above? cool. you have every right to.

but here's the thing I think you're all forgetting: you outnumber me.

statistically, both within the ace/aro communities and outside of them, people with an interest in sex and/or romance, no matter how vague or theoretical that interest may be, will always outnumber people without an interest in sex and/or romance. you definitely fucking outnumber people without an interest in either one. the group of people that I'm a part of (averse-to-repulsed aroaces) is a teeny, tiny minority within the queer community. we probably do not even make up one percent. I think I know and have had personal conversations with, what, two of them?

listen, when I first found the words "asexual" and "aromantic" it felt like a promise of freedom. it felt like finally, in the haze of "these are your teen years and you're supposed to experiment" coming from the secular world and "keep yourself pure in mind and body so your future husband can enjoy you :)" coming from the christian world, someone was FINALLY saying "yes, it's okay to say no, and it's okay to keep saying no forever if that's what you want."

like, I know for a fucking fact that if 14 year old me had encountered the ace community I see today, where it's expected that you're sex-favorable and kinky and write smutty fanfic all the time and if you're not then that's okay, you can just hand out water bottles at the orgy, I'd have been terrified. I'd have run away from it as far and as fast as possible. and I just worry about people like the person I was coming into the aro and ace communities and still seeing the same oppressive forces that they came to these communities to get away from. and I'm trying to be that voice of "hey, it's okay that you don't want what everyone's saying you should want, it's okay if you never want it, and anyone who's telling you that you should want it is fucking wrong." and that's not an attack on anyone who does want it. what's happening here is that I'm waving a flag and hoping others will see it and realize they're not alone. but some of you are really working hard to see my flag as a gun.

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sweetrevxnge · 2 years

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Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Ten | Make Better Choices

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 6.2k

Chapter-specific CW: NSFW content, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: I can't believe we're already on chapter 10! I just wanted to say that this is the first fic I've ever written and I was so afraid to share it, so I am eternally grateful for all of your kindness and support! The story is really only getting started and I'm more excited than ever to share it with you guys ♡

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The tile was cool against your back, yet still not cold enough to ease the acid churning in your stomach, threatening to spill over. Anxiety consumed you, each thought racing by like stars passing at hyperspeed. Despite the humidity, your mouth was completely arid, your throat knocking as you attempted to swallow your heartbeat rising in your throat.

This can’t actually be happening, can it? This has to be some sort of waking nightmare, an extremely vivid one at that.

The woman who you considered to be your best friend—if you could even call her that anymore—bumping into the man whose dick you had just gagged on. The same man who was apparently her sworn enemy here at the Academy. All of this chaos unfolding just meters away from you as you clung to a shower wall, desperately hoping your presence would go unnoticed.

Truly, there was no worse punishment for your illicit affair than whatever circle of hell you were currently enduring.

“Ben? What the hell are you doing here?” she asked in what could only be described as the most bile-inducing cadence. There was such vitriol behind her words, despite it being a relatively simple question.

“Why do you care?”

You furrowed your brows at Ben’s tone—low and laced with tangible distaste. Part of you had expected him to be equally as surprised to run into Voe here, to share your concern of being caught and tattled on by a third party. All things considered, it made sense that you were the only one that was worried—he had no reason to believe that Voe was privy to your relations.

She snapped at him. “Oh, I don’t care, Solo. I was just under the assumption that you were in time-out this week.” Her emphasis on the word was mocking, as if she hadn’t been assigned to the same punishment just weeks ago.

“Time-out? Really? That’s a bit childish, don’t you think?”

The door finally slammed shut, sealing the three of you inside like a tomb. It might as well have been one.

“I’d say it's no less childish than sneaking around the school grounds with your toy.”

There was that word again: toy. An object of infatuation for a fleeting moment, ultimately destined to be abandoned with the others that once held the same appeal.

A twinge in your gut was your only physical reaction to her implication.

To your surprise, Ben was silent—either lost for words or searching his mind for longer than usual. As it turned out, it was the latter.

“It must feel good, to finally feel like you have something over me. To finally feel like you’re my equal.”

A quiet breath caught in your throat. As you registered his words, they rattled around your skull.

You felt like an intruder listening in on a conversation you weren’t meant to hear. You supposed you weren’t meant to hear it, really. Hearing Ben talk to someone that way was alarming, to say the least.

Your curiosity was intolerable, morphing from a petty intrigue into a biting demand requiring resolution. Whatever had happened between these two, you were going to unearth it—regardless of the cost.

This demand was paired with something else as well: guilt. While you had gleaned from conversations with both of them that their relationship was rocky, to put it lightly, you doubted that your presence in their lives was making the situation any better.

“I am your equal,” she snarled. “Now, get the fuck out of my way.”

Ben was silent, with only the sound of her pushing past him following. Her heavy footsteps were rapidly approaching the shower stalls.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins in preparation of her discovering you. How stupid were you? This is what you get for thinking with your heart instead of your head.

You braced yourself against the wall, your eyes squeezed tight in prayer. To any higher power that may be listening, I promise that if you spare me from Voe’s wrath, I will make better choices in the future. Please, I beg of you, save me from an untimely death at the end of her lightsaber.

The sound of a curtain ripping open rang throughout the corridor, causing you to flinch. Opening your eyes felt like an impossible task, as if to do so would require pliers to pry them apart—somehow still a more pleasant situation than the one you found yourself in.

You lost count of how many beats passed as you stood there, eyes shut and body stiff as you waited for Voe’s lithe hands to grab your neck and squeeze the blood from every vein and capillary supplying your brain, smothering your life force into oblivion.

But it never came. The only change in the atmosphere was the shrill squeak of a faucet turning on.

You opened your eyes, immediately finding that you were still alone in the stall, the faucet still turned tight. You blinked away the haze in your vision, reality becoming more clear with every passing second.

The shower adjacent to you had started, the stall slowly filling with steam. The invisible hand that had been clutching your heart released its grip, allowing blood to once again flow freely to your tissues as warmth returned to your skin.

Voe yanked the curtain shut behind her, kicking off her shoes into the space outside the stall.

“And Ben,” she called out over the running water. “Don’t forget to take your little girlfriend’s boots with you.”

Shit.

You looked down at your feet as if your boots would magically reappear if you willed them to. Then, you saw it, the faint outline of them through the shower curtain, taunting you from outside.

It felt like a kick to your chest, all of the air in your lungs escaping through your parted lips.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to scare me.” Ben’s voice echoed as the door closed behind him, leaving you to simmer in the ambient sound of the shower running.

“Fucking asshole,” she muttered, her low voice still full of vitriol.

You felt like a caged animal, unwillingly trapped in an enclosure. Neither of the two options available to you were particularly appealing: outlasting Voe or making an escape. While both were nerve-inducing, one was certainly less soggy and miserable than the other.

Plucking up what was left of your courage, you tore yourself from the wall and cautiously inched towards the laminate barrier, the last thing protecting you from the wrath of Voe. Your pulse hammered your ears, deafening you to the sound of water splashing against tiles.

Slowly, you slid the curtain back, causing the hooks to screech against the aluminum rod. You grit your teeth at the sound, abruptly stopping your movements.

You ducked behind the remaining coverage of the curtain, dreading a reaction from her. It’s not like you could just use the Force either to lift the hooks off the metal, as she would undoubtedly sense the activity.

Carefully, you tugged at the curtain again, wincing with every noise the metal hooks made. After a few moments, you had cleared enough room to poke your head out. Upon first glance, you found that the room was in the same condition as earlier, besides the newly occupied shower.

You can do this, you assured yourself as you released a tense exhale through your nose before slipping out into the chamber.

The ground was slick beneath your feet, your wet socks gliding freely over the cold tile. The last thing you needed to do right now was slip and fall—although, you were sure that Voe wouldn’t be too upset to hear that you had cracked your skull open on the tile floor. You tightened your center to steady yourself, your arms whirling midair to regain your balance.

Before taking off towards the door, you snatched your boots off of the ground, gripping onto the gray cloth as if your life depended on it.

The distance between you and the doorway seemed to stretch longer as you rushed towards it, paranoia looming over you like a dark cloud of horror.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the door and gripped the handle like a lifeline, relishing in the promise of freedom beyond it.

As you turned the knob, Voe’s voice cut through the dead air.

She chirped your name like a cruel serenade. “Make sure you grab your shoes on the way out.”

Bile burned your throat as you slammed the door shut, guilt rolling over you in heavy waves. This was all your fault—you were the one who told her about you and Ben. You had inadvertently caused the very thing that you feared. How were you supposed to tell Ben this? How could he forgive you for breaking your promise in such a short time?

In the same breath, how dare he withhold pertinent information about Voe and him from you? Really, this was his doing. Had you known the true history between them, you would have never confided in her to begin with.

A seething, dark energy filled your senses, fueled by your growing anger. It was familiar, the same energy you had felt in the forest. Only this time, it was your own emotions that were drawing you closer to the edge of the abyss, luring you in.

Each encounter with the darkness became more difficult to resist, the allure of giving in to it feeling more like asylum than a threat.

A flash of lightning pulled you from your spiral, saving you from sinking further into the boiling rage within you.

You let your legs mindlessly carry you through the rain, kicking up mud in your path. You were no longer yourself, but rather a drone determined for answers.

Lightning continued to rip through the sky, each time followed by the sound of its loyal thunder, roaring only for a moment before settling to recharge its might.

Ben’s door was all that stood between you and the answers you sought, but not for long.

You burst into the room, nearly slamming the door into the six-foot-something man standing behind it.

“Hey, easy there. I was just about to bring you a towel,” he said calmly, despite the surprised expression written on his face.

Either he was oblivious to your demeanor, or you were concealing your anger far better than you imagined you were. He reacted to you as if you had just stopped by for a surprise visit instead of storming in after witnessing him in a near-screaming match with Voe.

“Are you kidding me?” you spat, pushing yourself past him.

“About bringing you a towel? No, I meant it. I was jus–”

You snatched the towel from his hands, removing it from the conversation.

“I’m not talking about the towel, Ben. I’m obviously talking about whatever just happened between you and Voe back there.”

His jaw flexed, the muscles in his neck tensing at the mention of her name. “You know that Voe and I don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

You scoffed. “Not seeing eye-to-eye is disagreeing about something that doesn’t matter, like what the best flavor of ice cream is. Calling each other children and talking about having power over one another goes far beyond that!”

“This isn’t something that concerns you,” he said coldly, his stare unwavering.

A stone sank in your chest, plummeting through your ribs until it hit the bottom of your stomach.

“I think it does concern me,” you said, your voice lower than before, but still stern. “She called me a toy—on more than one occasion—all because I associate with you. I deserve to know what the fuck happened between you two.”

You had never spoken to Ben in this tone, but after his dismissal of your questions, you didn’t really care about hurting his feelings. Especially considering that yours were currently smashed into a million pieces.

He moved closer, his massive figure now looming over you. Not like he usually did, with gentle hands around your waist, followed by soft lips against yours. No, this time his presence was intimidating, the first time you had ever felt subordinate to him.

“You want to know why Voe and I don’t get along?” he said, his voice gravelly.

All you could do was nod, your fiery rage suddenly nowhere to be found as he closed the space between you two.

A chill ran down your spine as you took a step back, only to be met with resistance from his wall.

“It’s because deep down, she knows that no matter how hard she tries, or how much she trains, that she’ll never be good enough. She is destined to live in my shadow.”

Your ears heard the words and your brain recognized them as coming from Ben’s mouth, yet you were still unable to process what he had just said.

“Do you really believe that?” you asked quietly, trying to hide your emotion.

“Yes.” His response was almost instant, nearly automatic.

“Why?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed sharply. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“And why’s that? Because I haven’t been here as long as you have?” Your voice was raising once again, your emotions bleeding through.

“That’s not what I said,” he growled.

“But that’s what you meant!”

“No,” he snapped, his brows drawing together. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean by it?”

“I…” He paused, running his hand through his drying hair as he considered his answer. “I don’t know what I meant by it. Just forget that I ever said it.”

You let out a terse exhale, dissatisfied with the resolution. If he wouldn’t answer that question, then you would press another.

“The way you see Voe…” you started, hesitant to say the rest of the question. “Is that how you view the rest of us, too?”

He pursed his lips, considering his answer for an uncomfortably long time. You watched him with pleading eyes, ones that begged for the truth, but weren’t sure they were ready to hear it.

For a fleeting moment, he looked as if he was going to respond, inhaling deeply before pushing the words out.

But nothing ever came.

His silence was enough of an answer for you. You stepped away from him, his eyes still trained on you as you drifted further from him.

Somehow, the silence hurt more than hearing him say what he believed. It meant he knew what he thought was arrogant and wrong, but he wasn’t bold enough to say it to your face.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, accompanied by a lump forming in your throat as you turned on your heels, hiding your face from Ben’s sight.

He was stoic in the center of his room as he watched you grab the door handle.

You turned to face him one last time before you left the room, allowing him one more chance to resolve the conversation.

Was he really going to let you leave like this? With the belief that he thought so little of you and your peers?

As you pulled the door open and stepped past the threshold of the entryway, you learned the answer.

The next day passed uneventfully. The rain finally let up in the morning, which would have been nice if you had been scrubbing the temple steps all day, but you weren’t. You didn’t show up to your assignment, opting to take the risk of a prolonged punishment over having to see Ben.

When Master Skywalker knocked on your door mid-morning, you fed him a lie as to why you weren’t there. As far as he knew, you had been up all night with an upset stomach. It was a foolproof lie—you weren’t even halfway through your explanation before he cut you off and excused you for the day.

You spent the rest of the day either pacing around your quarters, tossing and turning in bed, or flipping through the pages of dense texts as a means of passing the time between meals. While hiding in your quarters wasn’t exactly productive, it provided you the solace you didn’t receive from Ben Solo.

The twill blanket rolled between your fingertips as you picked at it, fraying the thread as you tried to calm the gnawing pit of anxiety in your stomach. You weren’t sure how long you had been laying like this, lost in your thoughts as you waited for the night to come and allow you to sleep. Not that you would be able to sleep right now.

Part of you was hoping to hear another knock at your door. Over twenty four hours had passed already since the conversation—if you could even call it that—in his quarters. For all you knew, he was carrying on as usual, completely unaware of the turmoil in your mind.

Your eyes fell on the drawer beside your bed, the one you had yet to open since arriving here. Scrolling through the offerings of the datapad sounded more intriguing than staring off into oblivion all night.

It was black, sleek, and light in your hands as you fiddled with the touch-sensitive buttons, familiarizing yourself with its operating system.

While flicking through the applications, one in particular caught your eye, accented with a bright notification in the corner. It was the…messaging application?

Upon further inspection, you noticed that the number three was written in the circle. Your fingers flew to click on the notification, dread growing in your gut upon seeing who the messages were from.

1 new message from Ben Solo, received at 0548:

Hey. I don’t know if you’ve found your datapad yet, but if you have, please write back.

1 new message from Ben Solo, received at 1310:

We missed you at lunch today. Master Skywalker said you weren’t feeling well, so I hope you feel better soon. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.

1 new message from Ben Solo, received at 1722:

Okay, I’m starting to worry about you. Please, just let me know you’re alright.

In your fragile state, just reading messages from him was enough to seize your heart and brim your eyes with warm, salty tears.

You opened the last message, expanding the text and details of the communication. After reading over it once more, you typed your reply.

Reply to Ben Solo:

Hi, Ben.

Yes, I finally found my datapad, along with all of the messages you’ve sent. I didn’t realize I was so popular. I’m feeling a bit better, thank you for asking. I’ll see you tomorrow for another day of scrubbing the steps.

The message felt incredibly impersonal, all things considered, but you couldn’t be sure that the datapad communications were entirely private. So, you opted for a safe, platonic-sounding response.

Less than a minute after pressing send, another notification popped up on your screen.

1 new message from Ben Solo, received at 1806:

I’m coming by. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

Before you could even respond to the message, there was a knock on your door. A quiet one, but still loud enough to be heard from inside your room.

You cracked the door open, finding who you already knew was on the other side of it.

“So much for a few minutes,” you said as you pulled the door open a bit further.

Ben cleared his throat. “There’s, uh, a lag in delivery time.”

He looked tired, his shoulders slouched and his hands shoved in his cloak pockets. He was wearing an emotion you hadn’t seen on him before. It almost looked like guilt.

“I’m sure there is,” you joked, your tone still stiffer than usual. “Um, do you want to come in?”

Your invitation was less of a genuine offer and more of a means to getting him out of the view of any possible bystanders.

“Yeah—yes, I would like that.” He was stumbling over his words, something that had been reserved only for you up until this point.

A small, amused smile pulled at your lips as you turned your back and led him inside.

Suffocating silence fell over the two of you as the door shut behind him. You sat on your bed and leaned against the wall, eyeing him as he shifted his weight between his feet. It was oddly satisfying to see him uncomfortable, given how you had spent the past two days.

Predictably, your soft heart got the better of you and you patted the spot beside you. He accepted your invitation and shuffled over to take the spot, avoiding your gaze as he did. The bed dipped as he sat down, shaking the mattress as he scooted back against the wall like you.

“Well, how are you?” he asked, as if you hadn’t told him in message form less than five minutes ago.

“How am I? Stars, Ben.” You let out an incredulous laugh.

He rubbed the heel of his palms into his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “I know, that was lame of me to ask. I shouldn’t have–”

“Look,” you snapped, “I’m really not interested in making small talk.”

“Yeah, definitely. Me neither.”

He was very agreeable when he needed to apologize. Not that he was necessarily stubborn otherwise, but you could tell he was acting on his best behavior right now.

Your eyes roamed the perimeter of your room as the two of you sat there, steeped in silence. Unfortunately, you were too stubborn yourself to broach the subject, forcing him to be the one to do it.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he said after a moment, his words rushed.

All you did was blink at him, waiting for more than just an “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that I think you’re below me, because I don’t think that at all.” He paused, as if he were anxious to say his next thought. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Your next exhale was shaky as it spilled out of your lungs. He had his tongue pressed against his cheek in thought, so you resisted saying anything in hopes of keeping the apology going.

He continued. “You’re the only person here that doesn’t have to push themselves past their capabilities to keep up with me. It all comes so naturally to you, too.”

While his words could have been either flattery or praise, given the tone of his voice and his relaxed demeanor, it seemed to be the latter. Warmth filled your chest at the thought, lustrous pride rising to the surface.

“You flatter me,” you said with a coy smile, trying to hide the blush that rose to your cheeks.

“But it’s true. I know that it’s wrong of me to think of our classmates that way, it’s just something that’s hard to look past when you’ve been told you’re a prodigy your entire life.”

He let out a small sigh as he rested his chin on top of his knees. His brows were slightly drawn, his soft, brown eyes focused on a point far in the distance.

Hesitantly, you inched your hand closer to his, wrapping your fingers around his slack palm. Truthfully, it was hard to understand how he must have felt. To be related to the famous Luke Skywalker, Galactic Rebellion hero and Jedi Master. Trying to live up to his legacy alone must have been an enormous burden.

“Do you feel pressured to be someone you’re not?” you asked quietly.

With that, he turned to face you, his lips rosy and pouty. His gaze flicked between your eyes for a second, searching for something in them.

He nodded. “More than I’d like to admit.”

You hummed in response, grazing your thumb across the back of his hand.

The conversation could’ve naturally stopped there, but he continued. “Do you know who Leia Organa is?”

His question felt irrelevant from the topic, but you answered nonetheless. “Of course I do. Why?”

He let out a short puff of air through his nose, chewing on his bottom lip before responding. “She’s my mom.”

The words clattered around your skull like a pair of dice, knocking into and obliterating any other thought you had. On the outside though, your parted lips and stunned eyes were the only evidence of your shock.

“Your mom is Senator Organa?!”

When he had divulged the information that his mom was a senator, your head had been too clouded with anxiety to think harder about it. Not to mention that you were not overly familiar with every senator on the New Republic’s roster. But Senator Leia Organa was a household name throughout the galaxy, not only for being one of the founding members of the Galactic Senate, but also for her role in the Rebellion. And here you were, sitting beside her son.

“Yeah, she’s Master Skywalker’s sister. It’s quite a reputation to uphold,” he said with a sigh, relaxing the tension in his shoulders. “That’s beside the point, though. I really do feel terrible about yesterday.”

You studied him, trying to piece together features he shared with his mother. Recalling your grade school education when you learned about the senate, as well as images of Leia Organa from news articles about her on the HoloNet. His big, brown eyes and dark, wavy hair were reminiscent of hers. You wondered what his father looked like, what features of his could be attributed to him.

“It’s okay. Honestly, I think we both could have handled things better,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your apology.”

He turned and kissed the top of your head before leaning against you as well. You supposed that was his acknowledgement of what you had said, which you didn’t really mind.

After a moment of resting like this, he spoke up. “I have something for you.”

“Mmm?”

You straightened your back to look at him as he dug through his pockets, retrieving a small, drawstring pouch. He took your hand in his free one and placed the bag in your palm, his eyes lighting up as he watched you, anticipating your reaction.

“What’s this?” you asked, hesitant to open it.

“Open it.”

The canvas bag shifted in your grasp as you opened it and poured the contents into your hand. In your grasp was a silver, braided bracelet with a cyan, opalescent detail hanging from the center. It was flexible, but not as much as a typical chain would be. By the craftsmanship and alloy used, it looked to be fashioned out of some kind of metal wire.

“I made it myself. I sanded out some wires I had laying around from when I built my lightsaber, and I braided it to match yours,” Ben said, gently pulling your braid to lay on your shoulder.

Your heart felt as if it were going to explode, a stark contrast to the coldness of the past day. You slid the bracelet over your hand and let it dangle from your wrist, admiring the asymmetrical charm hanging from it.

“This is beautiful, Ben,” you said, a giddy smile stretched across your face. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the pendant?”

“It’s a flake of a crystal,” he explained, his eyes searching the room as he looked for the right words. “I found it on one of Endor’s moons when I was a kid. I’ve been holding onto it ever since, but I want you to have it.”

His fingers laced with yours, enveloping your hand.

“Are you sure?”

He suppressed a laugh and sighed. “I hope so, considering that I already drilled a hole into it.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled your hand free from his grasp, shoving him lightly. “You know what I meant, smartass.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure,” he said quietly before leaning over and kissing you.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you, but a comfortable one.

“I should get going now.” He sounded half-hearted, as if he were hoping you would protest.

You did.

“No,” you murmured. “Please stay.” You bunched his cloak in your fist, preventing him from standing up from the bed. With wide eyes you watched him, trying to read what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

“Okay,” he said softly.

A surge of confidence flooded your veins. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, your lips parted his, moving slowly against each other as you moved to straddle his hips. His rough hands were quick to grab your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you against his chest.

He sighed into your mouth as you ground your hips into his, the familiar—yet intoxicating—feeling of his growing length between your legs. You smiled into his lips and pressed down harder, rubbing him against your aching clit.

You pulled away from his lips momentarily. “Why is it that we only seem to do this after an argument?”

Ben let out an airy chuckle through his nose and shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

“Neither am I.” You slid your hands behind his neck and kissed him again before finishing your thought. “We’ve had a rough couple of days, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, all thanks to me,” he said quietly, a tinge of guilt evident in his tone. Despite his gaze still being on your face, it felt distant, as if he were lost in a sea of thoughts.

“No, not all thanks to you,” you assured him, swiping a thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m equally at fault for handling things the way I did.”

His eyes snapped up to yours, irises nearly erased by his pupils. He searched your eyes for a lingering moment, as if in them he would find the courage to say what he wanted to.

“You’re all I thought about this past day. Not school, not training,” he said, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip, his fingers splayed over your hot cheek. “Just you.”

He dragged your hips across his, massaging the sensitive spot between your legs with his hardened cock. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, your eyes falling shut as you savored the sensation.

“There’s something else I was thinking about, too. Something I wanted to try,” he said, gently holding your bottom lip down with his thumb.

The ambiguity of his statement sparked electricity in your stomach, bleeding down to the pressure between your legs.

“And what’s that?” You let your hands fall to his shoulders, gently squeezing the muscle beneath.

“First, we need to get you out of these,” he said hoarsely, his hands moving to untie your belt.

You beat him to it, moving to stand as you shed your clothing, leaving just your bra and underwear remaining.

His dark eyes raked over your body, and before you could climb back onto his lap, he grabbed your waist, holding you in place. “Those too.”

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you unclasped your bra and slid it down your arms. Ben rolled your underwear down your legs, his eyes following them until they finally fell to the ground.

“At any point in this plan are you going to be undressing, too?” you asked, crossing your leg in front of the other to cover yourself.

“I wasn’t going to, but I can if you’d like me to.” He looked up at you with wide eyes, a lock of dark hair falling into them.

“Oh, you don’t have to then…” You trailed off as you tried to comprehend what was going to happen.

He pulled you onto his lap and laid back, dragging your hips forward with him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, providing almost no resistance to his movements.

“Just come here and you’ll see.”

You let his hands guide you further, your hips hovering above his face now. His hot breath spread over your throbbing clit, igniting a fire in your belly.

To your dismay, he turned his head and placed slow kisses on your inner thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh above his lips. A low groan vibrated in his throat, dangerously close to your cunt.

You squirmed under his touch, trying to expel the energy pent up within you.

“Don’t be cruel,” you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

“I’m not being cruel,” he whispered, his lips grazing your skin. “I’m just trying to memorize how you look right now.”

Heat spread across your cheeks and down your neck, melting away any residual insecurity. As you opened your mouth to respond, he parted you with his tongue, licking a long stripe up to your sensitive clit.

A whimper fell from your lips, earning your hips a squeeze from Ben’s hands as he continued to work his tongue. You let your head fall forward, your legs beginning to shake from the strain of supporting yourself.

“Relax—you’re not going to crush me,” he said, his breath fanning over your wet skin.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, smoothing his hands up your waist until they reached your breasts. You moaned as the rough pads of his thumbs rolled over your nipples, igniting your nerves with each tight motion.

His mouth was relentless, sucking and circling over your swollen clit, drawing you closer to the edge. You let your muscles relax, allowing yourself to focus on the sensation between your legs.

Everything about it was intoxicating. His tongue, being on top of him, the intensity of his gaze. It was all becoming too much as your pleasure grew, your senses nearly overwhelmed.

“Shit, I’m close,” you panted between shallow breaths, tugging on his dark locks as you neared your orgasm.

“Yes—fuck—come for me.”

Ben’s voice was clear, but not spoken aloud. As the words penetrated your mind, you opened your eyes, seeing that his mouth was still on you.

It had been an invisible communication between you two.

Before you could question it, euphoria flooded your veins, washing over your body and emptying your mind. You writhed in his grasp, grinding your hips against his mouth as you came down from your high. You felt weightless, spinning on the comedown until you landed in a bed of soft, cottony bliss.

Ben’s eyes were locked on you as he peppered wet kisses along your thigh before letting his head fall back onto the mattress, smiling as he exhaled softly.

Shakily, you climbed off his chest and collapsed beside him, your skin warm and eyelids heavy.

“Ben,” you started, yawning between thoughts. “I think I’m going crazy.”

He chuckled. “What do you mean?”

The statement about to leave your mouth was either going to be easily explained away or leave Ben thinking that you’re clinically insane. Your gaze wandered around the room before finally meeting Ben’s.

“Just now, when I was about to, you know…”

“Come?” Ben finished for you, grinning at your hesitancy.

“Yes,” you sighed, “when I was about to come, I swear I heard you say something. But I don’t know how that’s even possible.”

“What did you hear?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow, a flicker of curiosity flashing across his eyes.

“I thought I heard you say ‘come for me.’”

A pause hung in the air. He definitely thinks you’re insane.

Ben finally parted his beautiful, plush lips to respond. “I mean, I thought that, but no, I didn’t say it out loud. I was…occupied.”

You smiled, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know you were. That’s why I’m confused.”

“I’ll have to do some research, but I think I’ve read about this being possible through the Force. Connected minds, connected bodies…” He winked at you, evidently proud of his innuendo.

“Don’t be dirty.” You shoved him with all your strength, but still barely disturbed his stability. Not that you were any better after riding his face just moments ago.

“I would never.” He ran a hand through his hair, his brows pinched in thought. “Well shit, what else did you hear? I might need to start censoring my thoughts,” he said with a stifled laugh.

“I didn’t hear anything else. But yes, you’d be wise to only think the kindest of thoughts while you’re around me.”

“I already do, princess.” He pulled you by your waist until you were pressed against him and kissed you, his lips warm and salty. In the hazy afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn’t find the will to care.

Another yawn threatened to escape your mouth as you watched Ben sit up, adjusting his pants before standing. Guilt washed over you.

You sat up on your elbows. “Wait, if you want, we can–”

“You’re already half asleep, we’re not going to do anything,” he said quietly, pushing you back against the bed with a kiss.

“But–” you protested weakly. He was right after all, you were only one warm blanket away from a good night’s sleep.

He smiled down at you. “You deserve to be treated. Please, just let me do that.” As he walked towards the door, he turned back to look at you once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You slid under the blanket, relishing the faint heat stored in it from your bodies atop it.

“Goodnight, Ben,” you said, letting your eyes flutter closed and your head sink into your pillow.

“Goodnight.”

#welcome to the part of the story where I actively try to hurt your feelings #like kinda #I promise that ben is still our soft space bf #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #ben solo x fem!reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing

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hrkrkrwpfrbrbrlablblblblwhitooap · 1 year

Note

(i did actually hyperfixate on tom in august of 2021 as well, i just figured that was unimportant as making the point of a dormant hyperfixation becoming active again wasn't gonna change anything). also no offense and god bless amen but there's a big difference between tom taking a break in regards to main channel videos, and tom scott plus. as previously mentioned, plus videos are likely quite anxiety inducing (and time consuming!) regarding whatever it is he's doing and are not his main focus so. yeah. he's gonna take a longer break in regards to that channel. like is this only making sense to me or

i don't mean to come across as argumentative, i truly don't! unfortunately this is just how my personality is sometimes. when i said "don't dunk on tom..." i was mostly speaking in regards to the anon who made the confession (?) in the first place. things you might not know has been going on for almost 10 years. tom quite literally said himself (likely with different words, the video i'm referring to is no longer on his channel) that the series has more or less run it's course and will become an irregular series in april of 2024 (if i remember the dates correctly). so, like i said, it makes complete sense that newer videos are likely not to par with 2017-2019 videos. and like. sure. it all comes down to preference. but when people are still consistently subscribing, and tom hits 1 million views (or more!) on a new main channel upload in one day, the opinion that his content isn't as appealing anymore is likely an unpopular one

i agree that tom should branch out more in regards to where he films. and like you said yourself, it's unfortunately likely language barrier + filming-in-public laws issues. tom schedules when he films his videos waaaay in advance it seems, e-mailing whoever he needs to e-mail like. at the absolute very least a few weeks in advance. for all we know, he could be scheduling to record videos in the three continents he hasn't filmed in right now as a last hurrah for things you might not know! he might not, and we shouldn't necessarily get our hopes up, but he might want the series to more or less retire with videos from places he's never been to before

the criticisms are valid, i just think it's a bit silly to complain over the quality of his content (in regards to the level of professionalism, not location) when he's uploaded every single week for the past almost-decade. like, be grateful he doesn't upload once a month y'know?

1) Tom has said himself multiple times that TS+ has basically become the main channel now in terms of the effort he's putting in, and given that he's decided to wind down the actual main channel, I assume it's only going to become more prominent going forward. Given that, I disagree with the sentiment that it's something he'd disregard so much as to walk away from it for (so far) two and a half months, nearly a quarter of the year, unless something has gone wrong behind the scenes to delay the return well beyond the intended date.

2) I think you are still failing to grasp my point that him saying the main channel format has run its course and he's done all he can do with it is in fundamental contradiction to the fact that it literally has not touched over half the globe yet. Some things you'll start to notice if you follow a lot of Tom's content (over periods much longer than two years) is that he tends to make up some very arbitrary rules for how to Do Content and then hold himself to them for no real reason, and he has a tendency to disavow or even delete anything he made more than about three years ago (with a very small number of exceptions). He's used the ten-year limit as an arbitrary rule for doing content before (Europlop) and this decision, to me, has the vibes of being driven more by these two factors than by an actual objective assessment of the situation. At the end of the day, whatever, it's his choice, but I feel like I have a right to be disappointed that he's making this decision instead of using the momentum he has to start branching out more.

3) It's worth noting that the sub count and views have both been heavily affected by the fact that he won the algorithm lottery with the garlic bread into space video in 2018, partially thanks to a well timed Reddit post. That got over 20M in the first two weeks - far and away his highest view count at the time, and that video is still his second most viewed ever - and there was a clear turning point after that video where his sub count started going up much faster and average video performance went from 100-200K views per video to 500K pretty quickly. (All of these numbers have since been run a lot higher by the 4.5 million subs he's gained in the past five years, but I was there and made note of these analytics as it happened, because they were interesting to me.)

Once you get over that hump to being a popular creator that the algorithm favors, there's sort of a snowball effect: it puts your videos in front of more faces, more people subscribe to you, and those subs give you more views on future videos, which makes the algorithm more likely to put them in front of more faces, etc. Obviously there are some really stupid things you can do that would stop this snowball, like saying "I just want to get dicked down again :/" and leaving forever, but it's a lot easier to keep it going once it's started - i.e. the videos that keep people who already noticed you coming back don't necessarily have to be as good as the one that went viral enough to rope them in to begin with.

All of which is to say: Getting more views and having more subs now than his content got back then doesn't necessarily mean the average person would think it's better content; it just means The Algorithm has decided he's worth putting into more people's feeds (and that YouTube has more users than it did back then - the genZ and genα folks who have gained computer privileges in that time probably watch a lot more YouTube than the old folks who died out of the potential viewer pool, and the pandemic and accompanying push to move all entertainment from linear TV to streaming for many people only exacerbates matters). I think a better metric to get a barometer for how much your audience is enjoying your content is the ratio between view count on a video and sub count on the channel - it's not perfect, but gives you a sense of how likely an existing subscriber is to actually click on the new video and watch it. In late 2018, with ~500K views on most videos in the first few weeks and about 1.5M subs, that was approximately a 1:3 ratio; his recent videos are kinda all over the place but a lot of them are only 1M to 1.5M which (against 5.8M subs) is more like a 1:4 or 1:5 ratio. That would seem to indicate that, while his audience may be larger now, on average they are less dedicated. (To contrast - the lowest of the TS+ videos still hit a view count that is almost 1/2 the subscriber count - ca. 350K views against ca. 800K subs)

I really don't want to get so deep into the rest of this but given he didn't specifically solicit ideas from latam, africa and asia when calling for suggestions for the final year of TYMNK I highly doubt he is planning to branch out any more than usual... and fwiw, making videos every week at the same time is one of those arbitrary rules I was talking about; maybe there is some marginal Algorithm Benefit but there are plenty of channels which upload less frequently or predictably than he does and still do just as well.

#and re. your other message: talk to the people in the replies yourself. I'm not a messenger pigeon and frankly I agree with them.

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cassyapper · 10 months

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thank you for the Jotaro content. i'll never say no to Jotaro content. do you have any Jotaro thoughts that are occupying your mind that you'd like to share during this category 4 event or is it just a bunch of vibrating in place and pointing at the man (bc I get it)?

god anon you get me so completley

sequence of jumbled jotaor thoughts it's not a steady line of thought im jsut fucking crazy also im not proofreading this

im thinking about how the first time jotaro smiles in the manga it's when he's holding a gun to his head

i think about how holly screamed. i think about how it's implied jotaro did this more than once because he knew his brains werent going to blow out in front of his mom he did this to show off star platinum's frightening abilities he wasnt trying to die....this time at least. but earlier? well

i think about how he was 17 when his entire world is flipped upside, when he truly meets his grandfather for the first time, when he understands why his mother is the way she is (dont get me started on this ohhh do not get me started on this). i thinka bout how he met his first friends got 50 precious days with them and then lost them. even the ones that lived. him and polnareff are a tragedy of "we could've been great" because, with their differences in circumstance and their individual forms of grieving, i honestly think they both resent the fact that the other lived and not someone else just as much as they resent that they themselves lived. survivor's guilt spilling over and being directed at the only other person who understands. it sucks. also he loses joseph cause after being without oxygen for that long he had brain damage (as evidence by how much he aged in the 10 years btwn diu and sdc as opposed to the 50 years between bt and sdc) and he just, broke i think from the guilt of getting his friends killed again (avdol and kakyoin particularly). i think jotaro was alone again in anew way and it RUINS THE REST OF HIS LIIIFE

i think about how jotaro was beginning to trust the others when boom, the second he tries to trust them in the final battle to do their own thing, they die. every time he isnt there people die. polnareff wouldve died if he wasn't there. jospeh would've died if he wasnt there. everyone else died cause he wasn't there. he literally WAS ON THE WAY TO GETTING BETTER TO LEARNIGN TO TRUST PEOPLE but it fell in at such a critical moment and had such dire conseqeunces and he couldnt he couldnt he couldnt and so he didnt and it culminates 23 years later when he's not enough by himself to save his daughter, he trades the world for her and he still couldnt do it because he tried to do it alone ough my GOD

i thinka bout how he loved the crusaders so much he was so vulnerable with them he showed off his underbelly so sevrely and then he's hurt and hurt and hurt and he becomes so consumed in his own hurt that he runs CIRCLES trying to find a way to make sure he has the power to never ever ever let it happen again and so he isolates and he does things alone and he doesnt train the world cause he has trouble seeing it as anything other than dio (but it's him too he couldve made it his own but he didnt and it led to not having enough of a girp on it to save his DAUGHTER when seconds were the most preicous thing in the world)

i think about how he loved them i think about how he did the stupid cigarette tricks with them about how they knew how to comfort him when he was acting erratically and scared how this implies that he's done that before how it means they saw and helped him through it and he communicated how they can help him through it HOW HE ASKS THEM TO HELP HIM i thin abuotu how the only time we see him trust his loved ones not just himself BUT HIS LVOED ONES to someone else is in stardust crusaders and then it's gone and he never does it again i think about how losing the crusaders made him so grief stricken that he essentially signs his death warrant like he had gone past the event horizon but couldnt fall in just yet it was done it was done he was done

i think about how he killed people and he was so scared and he had blood on his hands i think about how he's teeth and nails and fists and it manifests in star platinum's offensive abilities i think about how he is so scared and he is so desperate and he loves so, so, so much, he tries to punch to distract the fact his heart is on his sleeve

i think about how uncomfortable he msut be with knives or anything sharp after everything i think about how he needs pressure but if something is too tight on his chest he'll hyperventilate i think about how he can't look at clocks and he can't look at his own stand and he can't look at himself i think he must hate the color yellow (his daughter has blond streaks in her hair, it must be some sort of joke)

i think about his relationships with people and how they both save and damn him simultaneously i think about how the relationships he has post part 3 give him some solace while he's marching toward his own deathbed and his refusal to deviate form that path means the relationships get strained and ripped and a chunk of his heart falls away every time it happens he is bleeding so so much so to speakby the time he even makes it to pucci it's no wonder he barely put up a fight it must have been a mercy (it was until it meant his daughter had no one left to be a shield for her)

i tink im drying. dying.

#dying #cass cries #like literally #jja #jjba

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theneonsanctuary · 2 years

Text

Exeunt

Chapter 4: Uprooted

Summary: Maybe you can coexist with nice things. Maybe they aren't a frivolous affront to everything you've been through in the last thirty days.

A glimpse of what The Theatre made Gideon revisit.

Content Warnings: This chapter deals with the immediate aftermath of 19th century missionaries torching a Samoan community, leaving many dead. It also alludes to a type of magical possession that could be conflated with certain types of mental illness, or popular misconceptions of them.

Other Notes: Buttons will have his own time in the spotlight. He is more than a piece of his brother's story.

You are seventeen years old, and for the past twelve hours you have been feeling mostly nothing at all, with brief flashes of terror, and rage, and an all-consuming bottomless pit that you haven't yet recognized as grief.

Your brother has been... empty, since you found him. Frozen when left to his own devices, obedient but slow when given instruction. He hasn't spoken or signed a single word except that first, broken whisper when you asked him what happened:

The Glow.

There are survivors. None of your parents are among them. Neither is The Voice. Friends and neighbors whisper, weep, and wonder.

You think they are going to kill your brother.

They've pieced it together, somehow. Someone saw him tampering with the missionaries' fishing boat this morning, and someone else saw those same missionaries marching into town, and you are too jumbled to make a full head count and figure out how many of the injured, angry, grieving people around you have ever truly understood that it is not your brother's fault when these things happen, how many think he invites The Glow's influence upon himself, and how many think he could beat it if he tried harder.

You are not injured. You were not home. You were foraging with a party of older birds a few miles down the shoreline, a good-natured test of your merits. Two hours ago you were worried about what your standing in the community might look like tomorrow, and what your parents might say—or try very hard not to say—if you remained relegated to the realm of children.

The older birds tried to stop you from running to the village. You threw them off and took a longer way around, and tripped over your brother in the forest, soot-streaked and coughing up smoke. You dragged him back to the others, and followed them to what currently constitutes safety—a burrow deep in the rainforest, an emergency meeting place in a network of tunnels that the missionaries don't know about. Neither did you.

With no time for a formal election, one of the surviving community leaders steps into the role of Acting Voice, and plans are made. You hear your brother's name, and yours, and your body floods with adrenaline. You barely hear The Acting Voice declare the people’s will—that you must be sent away immediately, for your own safety and everyone else's. The missionaries need to think you are dead.

You are seventeen years old. You are sealed inside a crate, and loaded onto a ship bound for O'ahu. The last thing anyone says to you for several hours is "Take care of your brother." They are not cruel. They do not say This is your fault. You should have been watching him. You should have been there. But it is what you hear.

When land is out of sight, the sailors—raptors and humans—pry open your crate, and offer you food and drink. Your stomach lurches at the thought. You help your brother eat—his hands are shaking, and he is still and glassy-eyed. You go to bed hungry, and wake up early. You feed your brother again, and choke down some fish to appease him, and you approach the sailors to ask how you can make yourself useful.

You have never been out this far. You're too young. You don't know the sailors well. They're from a different village, but some of them know one of your parents' nestmates, and that is close enough to be a comfort, and distant enough not to disturb the blanket of denial covering your entire brain. They teach you how to navigate.

The journey is long.

It is not long enough.

---

"We need names," you say quietly, into the darkness. "New names. Before we get there. So if anyone asks for us..."

You trail off. You do not like what you are saying. You do not like the idea of a cousin or a friend or The Acting Voice trying to make sure you're alive, and finding that no one on the island you disappeared to has ever heard of you.

But you like even less the idea of those men blazing a new path to your brother.

"What's yours?" your brother whispers.

A name pops into your head, and it feels right, and you are sickened by the fact that it feels right, and you shove it away without further analysis.

"I don't know yet," you lie. "What about you?"

"...Buttons," your brother whispers, and you laugh, despite yourself.

Your brother has always enjoyed collecting bits and pieces, odds and ends. Toying with them to no real end, just to have something in his hands. Buttons are one of his favorites.

He'll have to start a new collection. You try not to think about that. You shove it away.

"That's a good one," you say, and close your eyes.

---

The Acting Voice handed you a letter. You have read it several times. You have memorized your instructions.

Don't wait for the sailors to get off the boat. Word travels fast, and you need to be safely ensconced in an established household by the time the wrong person hears about what happened back home.

So: Disembark. Find a bird—any bird—and ask for Kapua. Show them the letter if they ask, but don't let them take it.

The docks are crowded with more species than you've ever seen in one place. Locals and sailors, traders and tradesmen, fishing crews, farmers, students—human, raptor, selkie, sea serpent, and species you've never seen before. O'ahu is a technological and cultural hub, and has grown even more in this respect since The Endling chose to be born here a few decades ago.

You knew this. Everyone knows this. But you are still dizzy with the onslaught of faces and voices, after weeks holed up in a small room, amongst a small crew.

You do not speak much Hawaiian. You don't know how many people here speak Samoan. The sailors are Samoan, but they make this trip often, and you showed them the letter.

"We're not teachers, son," they told you, "But we'll help you as much as we can. Kapua and his aikāne Māui—no, not that Māui—they speak everything. You just have to get to them."

You take a deep breath. Approach the nearest raptor, and say, with as much confidence as you can muster:

"We need to speak with Kapua."

She does not ask to see the letter. She looks at you, looks at your brother, and says "Follow me."

You don't know what to expect from Kapua. You've heard of him, but only in passing. The way you hear about the sun, or the sea. He has been The Voice longer than you have been alive. The local Voice of O'ahu, yes, but more than that—The Voice of all Pasifika. Birds, humans—all species hold him in high regard, though raptors highest of all.

The bird from the docks waits with you outside his door. When it opens, she says "Couple of kids asking for you, Tūtū. They look hungry."

You are ushered into a large kitchen, handed bowls of raw fish and poi, enclosed in a house effused with warmth and safety, and for the first time in thirty days you eat ravenously. The dock bird has disappeared. It is just you, your brother, and Kapua Pololia.

The first word he says to you is "Eat." He does not say anything else until your bowls are empty.

Kapua is younger than The Voice back home, which is to say, his head doesn't brush the ceiling. But he's older than your parents. His feathers look recently and thoroughly preened, everything in perfect order, and you are suddenly, crawlingly aware that you are covered in dust, broken shafts, and loose down.

You've kept your brother's plumage clean and healthy—you spent hours scrubbing away all the ash, finding and treating all the minor burns. The Glow is often careless about where she leaves her toys. You started learning basic healing magic when you were nine. Feathers have started growing back in, over the bare patches on your brother's wings.

You wouldn't let him or any of the sailors preen you where you couldn't reach. You couldn't stand still long enough, and couldn't bear the thought of pity from the sailors, or guilty obligation from your injured brother.

Now you feel like a living ball of filth, dirtying up this nice kitchen.

But Kapua does not look at you with disgust. His eyes and his voice are soft as he says, "I don't believe we've met. You must have come a long way. Is that a message for me?"

You do not realize, until Kapua mentions the letter, that you are clutching it with all your might, as if it is the only thing left to protect you. You try to think of any sort of preamble, any way to soften the blow that you're about to deal, but Kapua holds out his hand, and his gaze is kind but unblinking, and you swallow your nerves and give him the letter.

He reads silently, his expression giving nothing away. You can feel your brother quaking beside you.

"It's not his fault," you say, for maybe the hundredth time in your life, but you think it has never mattered as much as it does right now.

"I know," says Kapua. "I've lived a long life, and dealt with The Glow many times. I know what she's like."

He sets the letter down, and gives you a long, searching look. You stand stock still, too tired to be afraid anymore.

Kapua sighs. "I'm not going to make you talk about this today," he says gently. "You must be exhausted. My boys will share their room with you tonight. We'll set one up for you tomorrow. Wait here a moment, please."

The Voice sweeps out of the kitchen, and you and your brother share a glance. Your brother is hunched as small as possible, half his usual size, wings pressed tight to his sides. He meets your gaze, but looks away quickly, eyes downcast, and lets out a single, quaking sob. You can hear the blood rushing through your body, and you are not actually shaking, but your limbs are starting to twitch.

Kapua comes back after only a few minutes, walking quickly. "Follow me, please."

Kapua's boys turn out to be twins, who look a little older than your brother and a little younger than you. Maybe fifteen. They eye you curiously as you trail in behind their father, but he must have given them orders, because they don't ask any questions.

"Hi," says one of the twins, in Samoan. "I'm Kamalu."

"Nalo," says the other.

"Gideon," you say, and your brother gives you a startled look, but you ignore him and continue, "This is Buttons. He doesn't speak. Except to me and—"

You falter. Me and our parents. Buttons doesn't speak, except to me and our parents. Our parents are dead. My name isn't Gideon. Or it wasn't a month ago. I think it is now. I think I left behind my old self on the beach, poking through tide pools, worried about the future for all the wrong reasons. I think I'll let him stay there. Maybe he'll go home and grow up and have the life he expects, and I'll just stay here and be Gideon.

"Just me," you finish quietly, your head spinning just a little. "He only talks to me."

---

You do not sleep. Buttons does. You can hear the difference in his breathing when he's faking it. He faked it a lot on the ship.

So did you.

He must be exhausted.

So are you.

But you are alive with belated anxiety, and frustrated at the very idea of lying still for several hours and doing nothing, and you know that sort of baseless anger means you really should sleep, but you can't.

The twin called Kamalu sits up. He is sharing a nest with his brother, across the room. You are sharing a nest with Buttons, assembled in a hurry, but out of materials that had clearly been stockpiled in case of visitors. It's nice, and you are angry about that, too. You are angry, right now, about the existence of nice things.

Kamalu looks at you, and you shrug. He gestures towards the hall door, and for lack of anything better to do, you follow him.

The second the door shuts behind you, you are hit with the by-now familiar feeling of adrenaline crashing over you, screaming that you need to go back for your brother right now. But if you lie there staring at the ceiling any longer, you're going to lose your mind. So you take a deep breath, and follow Kamalu out to the garden.

"I thought it might help," he says quietly. "I sit out here when I can't sleep."

"Does it help you?"

He shrugs. "It makes me feel better about being awake."

"It's... nice to look at," you say, and this is true. Kapua's garden is a colorful array of fruits, vegetables, herbs, and flowers. The night air is alive with the songs of... Well, you're not sure what creatures you're hearing, but it sounds nice. The garden is nice. But more than that, it is a thing that clearly takes a lot of effort and upkeep, and must feed a lot of people, and something about the practicality takes the sting out. Maybe you can coexist with nice things. Maybe they aren't a frivolous affront to everything you've been through in the last thirty days.

You sit in silence with Kamalu for a while, looking up at the stars.

Eventually, he speaks again. "Do you... Do you want some help with your feathers?"

You are tired. You are angry, and afraid. You are far from home, and not far enough. Kapua's house has running water, and you took a shower that was just long enough to get all the dust and loose down out of your plumage, but your back and shoulders are still littered with broken shafts that you refused to let Kapua touch because your entire body was buzzing and numb and you just wanted to ignore it for a while longer, and now they hurt.

"Yes," you say. "Please."

Kamalu preens you. He does not say anything, when you start crying, except "Do you want me to stop?" You shake your head, and stare up at the stars, concentrating on the simple, immediate feeling of the physical pain lessening, bit by bit. You feel better, in this moment, than you did in the previous moment. This is true, every second. You hold onto it.

---

Your third night alone in your new room, you lie down for a few minutes, and then open your eyes to see Buttons staring at you.

"What," you grumble, because you've barely gotten any sleep lately, and you can feel it creeping in for once.

"Your name isn't Gideon," he says, and you freeze internally, and cover your hesitation with a stretch and a yawn.

"It is now," you say. "We needed new ones. Remember?"

"Why that name?" Buttons says, and the note of pleading in his voice twists a knife in your gut. "Any other name. Please. Not that one."

"He took everything from us," you hiss, startling yourself as much as your brother. "This is the only thing I can take from him. Please, just—please. I... I need this."

Buttons buries his head against your chest, breathing shakily. "Okay," he whispers. "Okay. Fine. If it... If it helps."

"It does. I don't know why, but it does."

"Okay, Gideon."

#tns: exeunt #original fiction

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