#''cause i want you to know what it feels like to be haunted''

[ragnarockz]

Agatha All Along Week Day 1: Jealousy

Summary: Vidal cannot shake the past romantic relationship that Agnes and Alice once had.

Pairings: Detective Agnes O'Connor/Agent Vidal

Rating: Mature (NSFW)

Inspo: Girlfriend by Alicia Keys

*Italicized parts are lyrics from song inspo above*

@agathaallalongweek

Alice Wu Gulliver was like a haunting that filled the little spaces in Vidal and Agnes' home. The second Vidal thought Alice was just another thought in the wind; something else would pop up and place her alongside the two of them.

A dusty key chain with ALICE on it found in the basement tossed in a random box of decorations, a well worn band tee shirt that Agnes had shoved in her drawer and got it stuck so that Vidal had to take the entire drawer out to fix. The shirt fell out of its hiding place like a rotten tooth knocked loose.

There were so many things Vidal wanted to say to Agnes; to ask her. Vidal of course respected her girlfriends privacy and history; the very hard life she had to endure before they even met. There was a sadness in Agnes that Vidal knew she couldn't fix. But, why would she? That sadness made Agnes who she was and she loved the woman Agnes was; all of her. It was of course more than just accepting Agnes for the person that she was. Vidal wanted to understand the woman Agnes was and it was very rare Agnes allowed for that.

It wasn't anger or disappointment towards the detective and the longer Vidal mused about her feelings, she had slowly come to realize what the feeling was that burned in her chest. Jealousy. A whole lifetime away that Vidal knew she would never get to experience with Agnes. A whole eclipse of time that she would never be allowed to look back on with fondness or sadness simply because their paths had not crossed that early on.

But, of course, Agnes and Alice's paths had crossed and without a doubt, they could look back with fondness and sadness.

Vidal sucked in her cheeks as she refolded the shirt and tucked it at the very bottom of Agnes' messy tee shirt pile before fixing the drawer and slamming it shut.

Alice lived with them even if she didn't know it; wasn't physically walking around and touching their things.

Alice sat at the table during dinner whenever Agnes mentioned something about an 8 dollar steak and eggs meal she used to get just after Nicky was born and she was craving meat. That place no longer existed; no longer could one get a meal like that for that price.

Alice was in their bed whenever Agnes pulled out the Polaroid camera to take pictures of Vidal; always making them as graphic and pornographic as she could. Vidal did not mind; loved how they got Agnes off and loved how it was a little keepsake of their love, desire, affection, passion. Vidal only pouted and rolled her eyes when Agnes would position her in a certain way that Vidal had seen in the same fashion of the Polaroids of Alice that were tucked away in that box under Nicky's bed. Agnes knew that Vidal knew; knew that her girlfriend had seen the Polaroids. Agnes was aware that Vidal, most likely, knew she was being asked to pose in the same way Agnes once asked Alice to pose all those years ago.

Alice lingered around and inside the room that always had the door closed. She made her presence known in there as Agnes, if ever, opened that door to go inside. It was locked up like a secret; a burning, disgusting secret that Agnes never had the heart to spill out. It chewed at Vidal's heart and she knew, no matter how much prodding or coaxing, she could never get it out of the detective.

May be silly for me to feel/This way about you and her/'Cause I know she's been such a good friend/I know she had helped you through

"Why don't we ever talk about Alice?"

Vidal whispered as she peered between her legs and down at Agnes' face. She caught those blue eyes staring back at her; the bottom half of her face hidden by the mound of Vidal's pubis. There was embarrassment and fear in them that Vidal could recognize while she laid there with a smug look on her face. She wanted Agnes to feel slightly uncomfortable while she had her tongue swirling her current girlfriend's clit while her brain was rapidly forced to think about her ex-girlfriend.

Agnes pulled her mouth away and caught her breath before wiping her lips against the inside of Vidal's thigh. They were both silent as they stared one another down. Vidal's eyebrows rose in question and waited for Agnes to respond.

"...Do we need to?"

Vidal's eyes went wider as she blinked. She was staring Agnes down with a look of impatience that Agnes definitely received. Vidal watched as the detective let out a low and deep exhale through her mouth before clearing her throat.

"You want to talk about her right now?"

Vidal shrugged against the pillow as she brought her hands up to rest behind her head; propping herself up a little better. She gave Agnes a tight smile in response and waited.

It was definitely something, Agnes thought as her gaze drifted back down to the space between Vidal's open legs, to be asked about your ex while eating your current partner out.

"What...do you want me to say?"

Vidal's eyes narrowed as she jutted her chin forward a little; held her breath with the air of superiority. What did she want Agnes to say?

"How come she's still here? Why can't you let her go?"

Agnes opened her mouth to reply but no words, no sounds came out. She was struck dumb by the bluntness of Vidal's questions. Struck dumb because she knew Vidal was right. Why was Alice still here in little ways that didn't add much to anything? Why was she allowed to haunt this home alongside Nicholas as well?

Alice was alive; Nicholas was not.

Alice had moved on; Agnes had not.

"If it wasn't for her, Vidal...I don't think I'd be here right now...in between your legs...she shares a special part of me..."

Vidal remained silent as she shifted a little against the bed; shifted her legs so that they opened a little wider in invitation. Agnes' eyebrows rose as she bowed her head once more; tongue chasing before her mouth did as she made contact again with Vidal's clitoral hood. She made broad strokes with her tongue before pressing the tip of her tongue right down onto the tiny pulsing nub. Vidal let out a shaky, ragged breath as she sunk a little deeper and closed her eyes to focus on the sensation Agnes was providing her with.

You said that she's one who helped you see/How deep you're in love with me

Vidal was still tangled in the sheets at 5 am; deep in her sleep from another night of having nothing but being worshiped by Agnes. Agnes, on the other hand, was up and dressed and already in the kitchen grabbing a coffee and a granola bar before heading out with the box tucked under her arm. She closed the front door as quietly as she could behind her and locked it before heading to the car. She unlocked it, opened the passenger seat and placed the box there before quietly closing the door and making her way over to the driver's side.

She had woken up an hour ago and felt like Vidal was in her mind; talking into her ear. Why was she holding on so dearly to all of this? Why couldn't she let go? Why couldn't she fully direct all of her love and attention to Vidal? Alice was nothing more than the past and everything that physically lingered continued to hold Agnes back and she herself knew it. As quietly as she could, Agnes had gathered up all of the things she no longer needed and put them into a box.

Agnes drove with determination; the radio turned low with one of her CDs playing. The weather had changed within the hour from somewhat sunny to overcast with the promise of rain. It pulled Agnes right back to the day that she and Alice said their goodbyes in that coffee shop with the box Alice had gifted her in the chair between them.

Maybe, Agnes thought as she pulled into Alice and Jen's driveway, turning off and parking the car, it would be one less ghost haunting her and Vidal.

Agnes got out and made her way back around to the passenger side; opening the door and taking out the box. She grabbed it with both hands and walked up the walkway to their front door. She doubted they were even awake yet as she knew, from years ago, Alice loved to sleep in. Agnes placed the box on the welcome mat and gave it one last look before she took the envelope out of her heavy canvas jacket pocket and slipped it under the lid.

She backed up one step and then two, before she turned her back to head back to the car once more.

And you say that you feel/I'm the best thing in your life/And I know it's real/And I see it in your eyes

It had been more or less twenty five years since Agnes had walked into this coffee shop. Many things had changed and yet, a lot of it still stayed the same. New and upgraded appliances and seating. Old and weathered paint and floor tiles. Agnes pulled in a deep breath and then sighed it out; legs wobbly as she walked towards the counter to order. She stole a glance over to where that meeting had taken place all those years ago and realized as she was called next in line, that ghosts would follow her no matter where she went.

[aventurineswife]

how would the hsr cast for sahsrau react to the creator always painting peaceful or happy moods, but when they get their hands on old documents or manuscripts of their works its,, like,, dostoevski (hope i spelled that right) level gloomy

Oh, that’s such a juicy contrast—this would hit hard.

Jing Yuan

He’d linger over those documents with quiet, furrowed brows. A tactician to the core, he recognizes when beauty is a mask for suffering. He wouldn’t say anything at first, but his protectiveness would ramp up tenfold. Suddenly, he’s around more. Quietly setting tea beside you, giving you space—but watching. He understands too well what it means to hide a storm beneath calm waters.

Kafka

She finds the contrast delicious. The fact that you’ve been painting joy but once wrote like a soul gnawed by existential dread? She’d be half-obsessed. “How beautifully tragic,” she might murmur, thumbing through a passage about despair. But if she sees signs you’re slipping back into that mindset, she’d get serious. She’s not about to let her muse spiral without a fight.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng would quietly start reading all of it. The texts, the marginalia, the date scribbles in the corner. He wants to understand. The disconnect would disturb him deeply, but not because he judges you—rather, because it mirrors something in himself. The Archivist in him wants to piece together your full truth… and the dragon within wants to protect it.

Welt

Welt would be haunted. He’s seen other worlds burn because truths were hidden under a pretty veneer. To him, your bright artwork has always been beautiful—but now, it feels like a cry for help wrapped in gold leaf. He’d want to talk. Not to fix you. Just to be there. To listen. He knows the weight of unspoken grief better than anyone.

Silver Wolf

She’d be fascinated. This duality? Peak storytelling. But unlike Kafka, Silver Wolf would start digging—why did your tone shift so dramatically? Was it survival? Was it rebellion? Did you outgrow despair, or simply learn to decorate it? Her care would be unspoken, hidden under teasing words and shared screens, but her curiosity would be relentless.

Blade

He’d recognize the pain like an old scar. Gloom is his native tongue. And the discovery that you once spoke it, fluently? That would change how he sees you. He wouldn’t comfort you—he doesn’t believe in comfort. But he’d stay close. Not because he thinks you’ll fall again, but because if you do… he’ll be there to catch the pieces.

Herta

Honestly? She’d be surprised. And intrigued. Her approach would be scientific: studying the transition in your work like it was a case study. “What caused the emotional divergence?” she might muse aloud. But beneath the academic front, she’d start low-key protecting you. A new security protocol here, a warning to others there. The Creator’s pain is… off-limits.

March 7th

This would shatter her. Her entire admiration has been built on your positivity and warmth—and now, seeing the darkness you once carried would make her cry. She’d worry she never saw the “real” you. But after the shock, she’d become your most determined cheerleader. You’ve been through this before. You got out. She’s going to help you stay out.

Aventurine

He’d act like it’s no big deal—“Everyone’s got skeletons in the manuscript closet, boss”—but he’d be watching you. Casually dropping into your studio, bringing you shinier paints, louder music, whatever might pull you back toward the lighter palette. “We’re all allowed to have an emo phase,” he’d joke, but that concern in his voice isn’t fake.

The idea that the Creator once wrote like a tortured soul but now paints peace would become something sacred, mysterious, and even dangerous to some. It shows you’re not just a figure of divine inspiration—you’re real, with a soul that’s weathered the darkest storms.

Some may worship you even more for it. Others may fear the potential of you slipping back. But none of them would see you the same again.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

The Void - 9

—————

Bob x Yelena

—————

The flicker of the neon sign, the faint buzz of the city clung to the air as Yelena sat by the large window looking out to the street. The smell of baked dough and melted cheese swirled around her.

Sal’s was often empty around this time of the night, which made it the perfect time to come around. No paparazzi, no Val, no one to perform for, it was just them. A Russian girl and an American boy, taking comfort in the ordinary things for the first time.

It felt meaningful cause everything was real.

She turned to see him, his back facing her as he stood near the counter looking at the menu placing the order.

It was simple, no complications, fate had tried to make them twisted and yet somehow here they were, wounded but unchanged. There was beauty in that, the effects of the war they walked through could not be seen on them.

But the past comes around to haunt, like always, it’s there in the corner, she feared the loss of these moments even before they could be history.

What if Val was right? What if she did hurt him.

She heard his nervous laugh as he bargained to get a meal combo, it made a smile. The first time they were here, he stood behind her.

It tightened her throat, what if she was never made for the ordinary?

Would all this be her lying to herself? She could be called to fight at any moment, Val could set off the alarm and the world could be engulfed in chaos and ..

“So apparently they are out of our regular chocolate dipped vanilla bars, I got us the raspberry swirl instead.”, Bob approached as she regained her composure.

When she turned to see him as she faked a smile, she knew. It wasn’t going to get past him.

He had paused, his hand outstretched with the ice cream bar in his hand, his eyes focusing on her, reading her face to understand she was upset.

She took the bar and thought of something to say, something to not make him worry but it never worked.

He took a seat beside her in the booth.

“What is it, Yelena?”, he posed the question so effortlessly, his tone so gentle as always that she couldn’t help but tell him all her secrets.

She busied herself to open the wrapper but it didn’t budge, “It’s nothing too serious.”, she tried, the wrapped slipping her fingers again

“Just thoughts.”, she dismissed her feelings and grew impatient as the plastic end didn’t budge. She really wanted to try this new flavour and every small thing had some hindrance to it. Everything had a struggle to it.

She just want to eat the dang ice cream bar!

She felt his fingers take the bar out of her hands, rip open the wrapper and hold out the ice cream bar to her. The anger faded, she caught sight of his eyes again.

There was a stillness as she took it from his hands and settled into the rhythm.

“I want to know your thoughts, even if it’s not important.”, she heard him and it rooted her, to the now.

Not what she had to lose or what she had lost, the right now, which had him in it, which afforded her the peace of a lifetime.

“I worry. That’s all.”, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Me too!”, he smiled as though even in their thoughts they were synced.

“Fine, you tell me what worries you first.”, she tried to turn it around to back out of it.

“But I asked you first.”, he raised his brows smiling, pointing his half bitten ice cream bar at her.

She gave in, the worry had all but disappeared now.

“Fine. I worry all these ordinary moment we are afforded now could be lost. That I will run out of time.”, she was trying to put down her feelings into words, a hard task when you’ve never had to communicate them.

It made her feel like a fish in a fishbowl, everyone could see what she was feeling and that felt dangerous.

“Run out of time for what?”, he dug further as he disposed of the wooden stick and it made her feel squeamish.

What if she admits it? Then it would be too real.

What if she doesn’t? He’ll never know.

What if she did neither? She could just enjoy it as it was, on the brink of loss and the fantasy of something more.

“Run out of time doing things with you, being near you, not having you with me anymore.”, she spoke as she tried to chew on chunks of ice cream, which in turn made it difficult to think and she got sick of it, sick of this bottled emotion in her soul.

He watched her intently with a softness that can never be replaced, a baffled expression painted across his face as though he was certain there could never be a time like that.

The thoughts kept building, the questions kept piling, she lost control.

“What if I run out of time and I never get to finally tell you?”, she blurted and her eyes turned into alarm signs.

He leaned forward and her world felt like it was on the brink of collapse.

“Tell me what?”, he proded and her throat tightened again but she fought against it.

“Val said I could break your heart.”, she said, it had upset her, this entire time she had thought of herself as someone who protected him.

He hummed.

“You can’t break it, Yelena.”, he said confidently, as if he never doubted it.

“You were the first one to find it.”, he looked at her and it made her heart skip a beat.

She didn’t feel fear anymore, she found courage instead.

“And what if I’m never able to let myself fall?”, she asked.

“What if I’m always on edge and always on guard?”, she continued.

“Wouldn’t that wear you down?”, she spoke the words and found his gaze, life with her wasn’t going to be easy. She was giving him the choice, to back down, to tell her otherwise, she was unravelling and feeling alive all at the same time.

“Never.”, he said with confidence and surety, nothing was going to change his mind.

“What did you want to tell me?”, he looped back, now his eyes glimmering with hope.

“This isn’t the right setting.”, Yelena flailed her hand as her cheeks blushed.

“I think anywhere with you is the perfect setting.”, he edged closer as though he was immensely happy.

“You want me to say it here? At Sal’s?”, she huffed a laugh as she tried to control her racing heart.

“Yes.”, he nodded.

“Fine.”, she responded holding her hands together.

“Fine.”, he bit back a smile as he got closer to her in the booth.

“What did you want to tell me?”, he asked quietly but it held a sense of safety.

“Stop it.”, Yelena fought back a laugh as she looked at him, he sat by her like a giddy high school boy.

Suddenly they felt like teenagers at a pizza shop.

“I’m not doing anything.”, he laughed as he looked at her and the world looked a little warmer in colour.

“No you’re smiling like you’ve been waiting for this.”, she looked away.

“I’ve been waiting forever.”, he said it quickly as though it was beyond his control, it brought her attention back to him, the pause, the weight. It was important, not saying it would be denying him of his feelings when she felt every bit of it.

“Ok.”, she said softly.

“Ready.”, he responded as he sat up taller.

“Shush!”, she mouthed and he mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.

She turned to face him, in one hand she held his and with the other she tucked a stray stand of hair behind his ear.

Her beautiful lover boy. No one else could fill his shoes.

“If all our ordinary moments is what being in love feels like. Then I’m in love with you, Bob. And I never want it to end.”, she said it slowly, the world had stopped spinning.

All her secrets were out in the open now. No secret files were needed.

“Thank you, for trusting me this secret.”, he said earnestly, as though he knew what it felt like to get it off his chest.

“Now you can know mine.”, he said as he reached forward to caress her cheek.

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met.”, he said so quietly that it had been the very thing that had kept him awake at night.

Yelena parted her lips in surprise to what he had said and it felt beautiful, their meeting, their bond, it was all meant to be.

He leaned forward but still hesitated, unsure if she wanted this, if she wanted him.

She let the worries of the future stay there, right now he was here. So she pulled him close and that was the sign he needed.

At the corner booth like some cliched teenage love story, Bob kissed her, the neo sign flickered as though there was a glitch in time, somehow intertwining their complex lives together at the pizza shop.

It felt like her thirsty soul had plunged into the glacier pools, she kissed him back as though her life depended on it. Her hands tangled into his brown hair, his little muffled sigh ignited a spark as if he had encountered the bliss of satisfaction, some strong force that was needed to set their worlds up right, it was felt in his touch that had a feverish zap to it.

Sal’s was never a pizza shop after that night. It became the beginning.

[cyanide-siren]

i'm real, sweetheart

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Just a few days after Dean was killed by the Hell hounds and sent to Hell, you find out that you're pregnant. Now, four months later, he comes back.

Warnings: None, just angst with happy ending <3

☆☆

After Dean's death, you didn't eat, sleep, go to shower, leave your house for days – you were practically unable to do anything. You barely managed to get out of bed and distanced yourself even from Sam. You didn't answer phone calls and eventually turned off your phone, ignoring Bobby and Sam ringing your doorbell. You simply sealed yourself inside your house, lines of salt in front of windows and doors to keep everything else outside as well. A mere precaution.

And sitting alone at home in tears, piles of used tissues and self-pity, it truly felt like a mistake you could have avoided if you had enough self-control.

It was the worst heartbreak you had and would ever go through, at least that's how it felt like. You hadn't experienced a death of a loved one before, but of course nobody would get used to losing someone important to them, not really. It truly felt like you could never move on from this.

You had known since the beginning of getting to know Dean and how he lived his life that it would be a mistake to let yourself fall in love with a hunter.

However, something unexpected happened soon after Dean's death. Something you hadn't seen coming at all. Just a few days after his death, you had started to feel sick and would vomit over and over again until your stomach hurt like hell and throat was burning.

You were pregnant.

You had stared at the pregnancy test, those two haunting lines, for what felt like forever, sitting on the toilet seat all alone. Unintentionally you had stopped breathing, your hands were shaking and heart racing so fast you felt like a heart attack wasn't far away.

Fuck. This wasn't what you had planned. Sure, you'd like to have kids but right now? Without Dean by your side? You weren't ready to be a single mother, even though you knew for sure that Sam and Bobby would be there for you and help you. But neither of them were the father of your child.

Having a part of Dean inside you, still with you, made you burst into tears for the hundredth time.

☆☆

Four months passed. Sam had tried everything he could to bring his brother back to him, back to you, but it was useless. There was no way to bring him back. He didn't bring you to the mess of several plans he had because a voice in his head whispered that they'd all fail and you'd only get false hope when there was no real hope left anymore.

That was, until Dean one day casually showed up at his doorstep. There he suddenly was, more alive than ever, looking at Sam, Bobby awkwardly standing next to him. Sam's first reaction was obviously that this was a demon dressed as Dean or a shapeshifter but it wasn't. He was Dean, his brother.

His brother had returned from Hell among the living. How? That was a good question which didn't yet have an answer.

"Have you gone to see Y/N yet?" Sam had asked after a while of chatting and trying to figure out what was going on.

"No, i haven't," Dean mumbled, his gaze falling into his hands on his lap. He was more anxious to face you than Sam for a reason he wasn't sure about. Maybe because Sam was way more used to the life of demons and Hell than you were.

"You'll cause her a damn heart attack if you just show up at her doorstep like this," Bobby pointed out, standing next to him arms crossed against his chest.

Sam knew about your pregnancy, of course he did. Your pregnancy wasn't too far in yet to show clearly that you were expecting a child, but if you wore tight clothes such as a top, people could definitely notice your growing stomach.

"Well, how should i do that then?" Dean asked.

God, going to see you again was the first thing he would have wanted to do after crawling out of his grave. He missed you more than anything else. The thought of you was one of the only things that somewhat helped him to stay sane in Hell.

☆☆

Sam and Bobby were coming for a visit tonight to have dinner with you. Sam came over to your place quite often these days to keep you company, knowing that you barely saw anyone, having almost no social life.

When they stepped inside your house, and you saw the third, highly unexpected visitor, the entire world around you stopped for a moment. Your body froze still and for a while it felt like your organs stopped working. You weren't able to get air into your lungs, heart felt like stone and brain not able to comprehend whatever the hell was happening. It all felt like you were dreaming or hallucinating.

"Y/N," Dean said. No, it was just someone who looked like Dean. It wasn't the real Dean. The Dean you fell in love with five years ago had died, there was no doubt about it. He was dead. This man, creature, in front of you? A demon, shapeshifter – whatever kind of monster, just not a human being.

When Dean took a cautious step towards you, you suddenly got the ability to move again, instantly taking two steps back towards the kitchen counter.

"Y/N, i –"

"We already tried that," Sam said, having expected you to have even worse breakdown. "And he's not a shapeshifter either."

Before giving Dean a chance to explain himself, you quickly grabbed a jar of salt from the table, opened the lid and threw the salt on Dean's face. He closed his eyes before getting salt into his eyes, seeing this sort of reaction coming.

Nothing happened.

You stared at Dean with wide eyes, throat feeling tight and chest heavy when Dean looked at you after brushing the salt off his face and hair.

The look in his eyes was full of both sadness and relief. "Y/N, sweetheart," Dean said quietly. "It's me."

Your eyes started watering but you forced the tears to stay in. "No," you breathed out and turned away from him, starting to pace back and forth, holding your head with your hands. Panic started to grow inside you. "No, no, no. I'm going crazy. I'm hallucinating, it's not real, not real."

Sam walked towards you and laid his hands on your shoulders, making you to look him into his eyes. "Y/N, listen," Sam said calmly and spoke his words slowly, making sure you understood everything through the pounding in your head. "He's not a demon or anything else than our Dean. We don't know how, but he got back."

You only looked at Sam for a moment like he had gone crazy. Dean was dead. He wasn't just casually standing in your kitchen after the past four months of being gone.

"It's not a trick, i promise," Sam assured you, squeezing your shoulder.

You slowly turned your head towards Dean, who had kept his eyes on you the entire time. All he wanted to do right now was to grab you in his arms and squeeze your body so hard that your bodies would merge into one. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes started to tear up too.

You fully burst out crying and let the tears flow freely down your cheeks. Dean walked towards you and finally wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug he had ever given to you.

"I missed you so much," you cried, clinging on his leather jacket with your fists, afraid that he really was just an illusion and would vanish away from you any second now. That this was all a dream and you'd wake up to the cruel and cold reality where he didn't exist anymore.

"I missed you too, love," Dean whispered, breath hot against your hair.

"You're real," you sighed, still trying to convince yourself that it was all real, taking the familiar smell of him into your nose.

"I'm real, sweetheart," Dean confirmed.

"W-what happened?" you asked, pulling away from him to be able to look into his eyes, being completely at loss of words. "How did you... how are you here? You died, Dean."

"I don't know yet," Dean admitted. "I'm trying to figure it out."

You only looked at Dean for a moment, trying to take in the sight in front of you and push it into your head that he really was there.

You cupped his face hard into your hands, squeezing his cheeks as you pulled him into a deep kiss.

"Maybe we should come back another time," Sam quietly mumbled to Bobby, who agreed. Without another word, they left you and Dean alone, slowly closing the front door after them as they returned to their car.

The kiss was everything you had dreamed of ever since you had lost him. You had feared that in time you'd start forgetting how his lips felt like on yours, how his touch felt like when his hands were wandering around your body. Now you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore, having him back – hopefully longer than just for a moment.

As Dean pulled you closer against him by your waist, he felt something different against his stomach. He pulled his head away from yours, breaking the needy kiss and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?" you asked.

You were wearing a t-shirt, so there was only a thin fabric covering your belly. Dean looked down your body, and it didn't take you more than a few seconds to realize that he had noticed something different about you.

You took a step back away from Dean, covering your stomach with your arms.

"Y/N...?" Dean started, but you didn't answer right away, trying to form the words into something you could physically pronounce.

"I... i'm pregnant," you mumbled, looking away from Dean.

Dean's face fell. Had he heard you correctly? You were pregnant? He kept his gaze on your stomach which you were trying to hide behind your arms. Dean gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, slowly pulling your arms to the side to be able to rest his palm against your stomach.

"There's... a baby in here?" Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Mhm," you mumbled, feeling anxious.

"When did you find out about it?"

"Just a little after you... you know," you said and shrugged, not able to get the words of ending up in Hell out of your mouth.

"Oh," Dean sighed. He couldn't even imagine what you must have been feeling and going through, having to deal with that alone. To deal with that before having recovered from the loss of him. He, himself, had ended up in literal Hell, but he cared much more about your feelings, your sadness, than his own sufferings. You were his priority and would always stay as one.

Dean tried to process the entire thing in his head for a moment. This wasn't something he had at all expected to hear during this surprise visit of his. You weren't sure what to say either.

"Yes," you confirmed. Your cheeks were wet from tears and more was still coming, but now you managed to let out a laugh, which made Dean smile. The sad tears were slowly turning into happy tears.

"So, i... i'll be a dad?" Dean asked, not believing the words to be true.

Him? ...a dad?

He had been through misery and torture in their all forms for several decades, which for you was only four months. After all that suffering, he could simply come back home to you and find out that you were expecting a baby? His child? That was too good to be true. Dean felt like he didn't deserve such thing, especially after everything he had done to those poor souls in Hell.

Dean was able to come back to a woman who he loved and who loved him with all her heart. A woman who he could build a family with during these dark times.

"I love you," Dean said, holding your tear stained face in his warm hands.

All he wanted to do tonight was to hold you. The dinner on the table was starting to turn cold but you sensed that Sam and Bobby hadn't actually come here for a dinner, not as their main intention at least.

"I love you too," you said, the tip of your nose touching his. "But don't you dare to ever sell your soul to a devil anymore. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, pressing your head against the crook of his neck and brushed his fingers softly through your hair.

Dean was terrified, of course he was. Even though you and the pregnancy made him the happiest man alive, he was scared. Scared of a demon or other monster coming for you and ripping the happiness away from him. He didn't trust to keep good things in his life.

You were the light in his darkness, and he was going to do everything he could to keep you safe. To keep all three of you safe so Dean could provide you a life you deserved.

☆☆

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 14: Left for Dead

"'Cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted" -tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn

2367 Words; Divergent AU

TW for attempted emotional manipulation (pythor)

AO3 ver

The ocean was just as blue looking from sandy shores as it was looking from the lighthouse.

Well, no, not exactly the same—it was much closer, now, the sense of distance he was so used to gone. But the white-capped blue looked almost the same as ever, so he turned his attention to the rest of the beach behind him. To the trees further on, and the jungle further beyond that.

Cole—the bulkier of the two humans who had found him—and Morro—the human with the green streak in his hair—had disappeared into the trees a while ago to check on something. This left him with Pythor—the Serpentine, a species that he had never seen before—who had taken to lying on a particularly warm boulder higher up on the shore, eyes closed.

It was… it was all so new.

(“Do you want to leave?” Morro had asked, after Cole and Pythor had—with his instruction—helped get his leg and arm working again.

He had. He wanted to leave so badly.)

His name… Father had named him Zane, but when he had proclaimed that to the group, they had all exchanged looks he couldn’t decipher. Cole in particular had looked at him so strangely, and kept tripping over his name, like something was knotted up in his mouth. That was new, too.

But the group’s boat had ferried them westwards to this island—not the mainland Father had once lived on, which was to the east of the lighthouse—and Cole and Morro had disappeared behind the treeline fairly quick, leaving Zane and Pythor behind.

He ambled over to Pythor, careful of the shifting sand beneath his feet. His joints creaked, not particularly happy with the boat trip and the sea air, but they didn’t give out. He poked Pythor’s head, and waited for a response.

Nothing. He poked the white-splattered scales again, and Pythor grumbled. Violet eyes opened barely a crack, squinting blearily up at him. “Oh, what do you want now?” Pythor demanded, rolling his tail over slightly. “I can’t entertain you all day, you know—these tired old bones need their rest.”

Zane considered his words, mulling them over. Pythor’s eyes slipped closed, a low hiss escaping his mouth like a sigh, and Zane spoke.

“Does my name bother you?” Well, Pythor had seemed more surprised than bothered, but he surely knew Cole better than Zane did, and would be able to remedy any confusion.

Pythor’s eyes opened again. “What?”

“Does my name bother you?” Zane repeated, like he would for when Father didn’t quite hear him, or forgot the question. Then, after a moment, he started to elaborate, “When I introduced myself, you all looked at me funny—”

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.” Pythor held up a hand. He hmmed, his head lifting up to regard Zane more closely. “As for your question… not particularly.” He answered, lazily waving his hand. “I find it more ironic, maybe even amusing.” His head fell back to the rock, his eyes starting to close—

“Does my name bother Morro?” Zane asked, no less confused than before. “And why do you find my name ‘ironic’?”

Pythor stared at him reproachfully. “My, you ask a lot of questions.”

“It is part of my purpose, so that I can help aid Father’s memory.” Zane stated. “Does my name—”

“I wouldn’t know.” Pythor shrugged, cutting Zane off. “You’d have to ask the boy yourself.” He sat up a bit, readjusting to bring his tail around in front of him so that he could rest his neck upon the coil. “As for why your name is ironic—well, it really only makes it clear that you’re a copy.”

“I do not understand.”

Pythor chuckled lowly. “I imagine you wouldn’t.” He yawned, then spoke again. “Tell me, did this Father of yours ever mention any other… children, of his? Other creations, other sons?” He sounded lightly amused, though Zane wasn’t sure why.

Zane took a moment to think over his answer. “He would often tell me of his time on the mainland,” he started, “but he never mentioned any other sons. Why?” Well, no, Father had once mentioned having a son, but always brushed it off or insisted that Zane was his son, his only son.

Pythor grinned. It was slightly unsettling. “You really don’t know?” He reared up, neck twisting to bring his head closer to Zane’s. “You’re not the original Zane.” He crowed, looking Zane up and down, “You’re clearly just the copy cobbled together from scraps.” At once, his pleased demeanor vanished, replaced with something more sympathetic. “I imagine your Father must have been lonely, in that lighthouse. No wonder he rebuilt the son he loved so much.”

Now it was Zane’s turn to be perplexed. Thrown, even. “What…?”

Pythor reached over, patting Zane’s shoulder. “I’ve met him, you know. The first Zane. Fought him, even.” His eyes slipped closed in remembrance, “Ohhh, it was certainly a time. You know, I didn’t even know he was a nindroid until… hmm… I suppose it must have been sometime after being swallowed by the Great Devourer.”

“Nindroid?” Zane asked, feeling incredibly lost. Then, discarding the term as unimportant—“What do you mean, anoth—an original Zane? I’m Zane.”

Pythor hmmed, tapping his claws against Zane’s shoulder. “A copy.” He declared. “Made of scrap and abandoned when the original came along—”

Zane punched out, knocking himself over. Sand caught in the cracks and seams of his back as he got back up, and Pythor stared at him.

Zane decided he didn’t like the serpent. He opened his mouth—to say what, he didn’t even know—

“What the fuck are you doing, you old bag of scales?” And there was Cole and Morro, slightly muddy from their trek, coming out of the treeline. “You said you would watch the boat!”

Pythor pointed out to shore. “Well, it’s not like it’s gone… any… where…” He trailed off as he realized what Cole and Morro had already noticed: the boat was gone, the tide higher than it had been when they arrived. “Hm.” Pythor looked at Cole, then shrugged. “Well, it’s not my fault you didn’t haul it in far enough—”

“Pythor is a liar.” Zane stated, uncaring of the current conversation. “He’s been saying that I’m—that there’s—he says there’s another Zane!”

At once, Cole froze, eyes wide. Morro shuffled off to the side, and Pythor laid his head back down on the rock. “I—” Cole started, jaw working, then, “I’m sorry.”

That… no. No no no, why was Cole acting like Pythor was right—

“You… knew?” Zane asked. The world seemed to tilt, but that didn’t make sense—his body hadn’t moved at all, and was still standing perpendicular to the ground.

“Why, of course!” Pythor interjected, “He and Zane are—or were, I suppose—the best of friends! Brothers, even.”

“Pythor.” Cole growled, “shut up.” He turned back to Zane. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to say it—”

“To say what? That I’m just the replacement?” Zane demanded. Then, against his better judgment, he asked, “What is the other me like? Is he…” So many different questions flashed through his processors, and he settled on, “Is he better than me?”

“Absolutely not,” Morro cut in, from somewhere behind Zane. “Look, as someone who’s older than Pythor, and thus wiser—”

“You are not older than me!” Pythor argued, only to snap his mouth shut when Cole gave him a look.

“—take it from me.” Morro continued, “You’re not him.” He looked Zane up and down. “Pythor’s full of it.” He added, and Zane opened his mouth to ask what Pythor was supposedly full of—

“You are like him.” Cole said, the look in his eyes similar to Father’s eyes when he reminisced about the mainland. “But you’re also different.”

“You mean worse.” Zane accused.

Cole shook his head. “No,” he said, voice hard, “You’re… you, and that’s not a bad thing.” He sighed. “None of us knew.” He said. “When we found Professor Julien at the lighthouse, he never mentioned—” He cut himself off, looking at Zane with something an awful lot like sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“You… were there?” Cole had been in the group that had taken Father away, that had left Zane behind—

“Yeah, yeah, so Rusty here was made because Snowball’s dad was lonely, whatever.” Morro slung his arm over Zane’s shoulders. “You’re not gonna be stuck in Snowball’s shadow, okay?” He nodded, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Zane shrugged Morro’s arm off of his shoulders. “I don’t want—I just—don’t call me rusty.” It was true, he was rusted at parts, thanks to the sea air, but—it felt like an insult. He bet the other Zane wasn’t rusty.

Wait. “The other Zane…” Zane started, “Is he mechanical?” Or was he flesh and blood, like Father, and Zane was simply made in his image?

“He was just as mechanical as you even before he blew himself up.” Pythor answered. Cole glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, shutting up now.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Cole groused. “He’s him, and you’re you. Neither of you is better than the other.” He turned to where the boat had been, and changed the subject. “Well, we’re stuck here until we build a raft. Do we start right away, or do we wanna continue,” He gestured towards Zane, “figuring this out?”

Zane would have crossed his arms if his joints allowed it. Truthfully, he didn’t exactly want to go out to sea again so soon—but he wanted to think about this new revelation even less. He was angry—but at what, he wasn’t sure.

“Well, if I can’t call you Rusty,” Morro started, “How about Copper?”

“Too close to cop.” Pythor shot it down. “Why not Echo? Since he’s a copy, and all.”

“Absolutely not.” Cole cut in, then turned to Zane. “What do you want to be called?”

Zane had no idea. “My name is Zane.” He stated. “I’ve never had another.” He frowned. “But I don’t want to just be… his copy.” His name was Zane, but that name bothered Cole—and was starting to feel weird, to Zane.

“It won’t be replacing your name.” Cole said softly. “It’ll just be a nickname. Like Breezy.” He gestured at Morro, who huffed.

“Or Dirtclod,” Morro added, gesturing to Cole.

“I… I think I would like a nickname.” Zane agreed. He didn’t want to give up his name, the one that Father had given him—

(“Zane is my son,” He’d say, though now Zane wondered if Father had only been talking about the other Zane—)

—But he didn’t want to be called by it until he met the other Zane, and convinced him to take another name. If this other Zane was so great, he could surely bear to part with his name. Of course, that plan necessitated meeting him, which… Zane wasn’t sure he wanted to do.

“I don’t know what, though.” Zane added. How was he supposed to pick a nickname?

“Gold, maybe.” Morro suggested. “Because you’re not gonna be second best to that goody-two-shoes.”

“Why not Pyrite?” Pythor suggested. “It sounds similar to pyro, setting you apart from him and his ice powers.”

“His… what?” Ice powers? Like the way Morro had bent the wind to his control to power their boat’s sail?

“We are not naming him for fool’s gold—” Cole interjected—

“Lux, since he grew up in a lighthouse.” Morro suggested.

“I—” Zane started, as they continued listing potential names.

“Junior, he’s the younger Za—” Pythor suggested, as Cole grabbed him by the neck. “Ack—!”

“Cole, you’re the mineral nerd, is there another word for gold?” Morro asked.

Cole, still holding Pythor’s neck, rattled off several words, ignoring the way Pythor was hissing at him. “Uhh, aurum, I think, oro, kin—”

“STOP!” Zane yelled, bringing everything to a screeching halt. “Please, just—let me think.”

They stopped. Cole let go of Pythor’s neck, and Morro scuffed his shoes on the sand.

“I think… I want to be called Echo.” He said. “Not because I am a copy, but because… I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I was built to remember the things that Father could not.” He had been alone in that lighthouse but for Tai-D for so long, slowly rusting apart as he waited for something to change. “Nobody should be alone.” He decided. “So I will be the echo that reminds them they are not.”

“Okay.” Cole agreed. “Echo it is, then.”

Echo nodded. Echo. Echo. He liked the way that sounded. He was still Zane, of course, but now he was also Echo.

Pythor grinned, quite pleased with himself. “Let it be known that I suggested that name—” He started—

“Let it be known that you lost our boat.” Morro interjected. “Of course, it’s what we get for entrusting it with someone too young to handle the responsibility—”

Echo watched as Pythor and Morro launched into a full argument, Pythor lunging at Morro and the two of them starting to tumble around in the sand. It wasn’t quite the same as how they had bickered on the boat ride here—in fact, it was much louder.

Cole watched them fight for a moment, then sighed heavily. He turned to Echo. “Let’s get started on that raft.” He suggested. “While they get sand up their asses.” He added drily. “Does that sound good, Echo?”

Echo nodded. He had never built a raft before! “Yes, let us. You will have to show me how.”

A gust of wind-blasted sand hit the spot where Echo was moments before, and Cole, holding Echo in the air as though he weighed very little, walked back several paces. “Oh.” Echo commented, as Cole set him down out of the blast zone. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Cole mumbled, already moving towards the trees. Echo trailed after him, eager to see how building a raft worked.

He was out of the lighthouse, and ready to see the world Father had described to him. There was so much he still didn’t know—and someone he wished he’d never learned about, and did not want to think about right now—

But he would make it work. He was no longer alone, after all.

[jasontoddsno1simp]

Not "Jason Todd is wrong, so he deserves everything that happens to him", nor "Jason Todd is right, so he's being unfairly treated and maligned", but a secret third thing

[overdueforarevival]

Whumptober Day 14 - Addicted To The Not Knowing

Left For Dead | ''cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted'

Summary: Ezra Bridger's parents go missing when he is seven years old. There are many things he doesn't know, some things he'll teach himself, others his family will teach him and a few things will have to wait a little while longer.

Also posted to AO3 and based on my tumblr post from a few weeks ago :0

Ezra Bridger doesn’t know a lot of things. He knows that his parents are gone and his home has been cordoned off by the local authority, blocking him from going back. He knows that he’s hungry and cold and he knows that his Mom and Dad always always said to go to Tseebo if anything ever happened to them.

Well, something happened and Tseebo is nowhere to be found. Ezra doesn’t know where to go or what to do, but he does know that it’s almost night and he wants to sleep. So he settles down outside his house, unable to get inside but refusing to leave, and pulls his jacket closer around his body, desperate to conserve some kind of warmth.

He’s kicked awake when it’s still dark out by a beefy man with a bushy mustache telling him to move along and find somewhere else to sleep. Ezra doesn’t know where else to go, so he wanders around the city until dawn comes and then he returns to his street and stands on the corner.

Mr Ishlay goes for his morning walk early in the morning, every morning. He’s an elderly man, one that’s been on the planet probably longer than anyone else, although Ezra’s mother once told him it was rude to say that. He’s not sure why. Mr Ishlay doesn’t walk too well anymore, always leaning on his walking cane but every time Ezra asks why he still walks if it hurts, he says that it’s good for his bones. Ever morning, he’s the first person out the door so Ezra waits for him and when he finally appears, Ezra surges forward.

‘Excuse me, Mister?’ he calls out. The man always smiles when he greets him, a fond look, the kind that old people always give young children. Today, all Ezra gets is wide eyes and a shifty look.

‘What do you want?’ he snaps harshly. Ezra skids to a stop a few paces behind him, staring at his back in disbelief. Confidence thoroughly dashed, Ezra glances around, wondering if someone is going to jump out and announce this all to be an awful joke.

‘I- I was wondering if you knew where my parents are,’ Ezra asks nervously. He gets that same nervous look again, followed by a scowl that has the boy taking another step back.

‘How would I know? Find your own damn parents,’ he sneers and then marches off, cane tapping loudly on the pavement as he fades into the distance.

Maybe he’s just having a bad morning, everyone gets grumpy sometimes. Ezra’s father gets grumpy after work sometimes, but he always apologises afterwards and promises to play Ezra’s favourite games on his day off.

Mrs Onglo is the next one out this morning, watering the flowers outside her house and Ezra skips up to her, twisting his fingers together nervously. This is the lady who always babysits him when his parents are busy, she’s teaching him how to draw and always says that he’s going to be a famous artist one day. She sells artwork in the market and promises that one day she’ll sell his art as well.

‘Hi Mrs Onglo!’ Ezra says cheerfully, waving happily at her. She glances up at him and then quickly looks back down at her garden. ‘Have you seen my parents? They weren’t there when I got home from school yesterday,’

Still, the woman doesn’t answer. Perhaps she’s going deaf, Ezra knows that old people do that sometimes. Dad always jokes that Mom’s going deaf.

‘Mrs Onglo!’ Ezra calls louder, still no answer. Before Ezra can say anything else, she slams down her watering can and runs inside, slamming the door shut behind herself.

Ezra doesn’t understand what’s happening, but decides that maybe his teachers can help him. Teachers have the answers to everything, so he joins the gaggle of children making their way to the school gates. The other parents give him weird looks, probably because they’ve never seen him walk on his own before. Ezra’s older now, though, he knows how to walk to school by himself, he doesn’t need his parents to do that.

He’d quite like them to be here for one last hug before he walks through the gates, though.

However, he doesn’t manage to get through the gates at all. A tall woman, the head teacher, stands in front of him and Ezra nearly bumps right into her legs. She scowls down at him.

‘You no longer attend this school. Do you hear me?’ she snaps angrily, glaring down at him. Ezra stumbles backwards. ‘I don’t ever want to see you near here again. Now scram!’

Ezra doesn’t like the scary look in her eye, the glint of the sun on the lens of her glasses. She doesn’t need to tell him twice; he’s sprinting across the street before he knows it.

Ezra Bridger doesn’t know what’s happening, why nobody will talk to him or where his parents are. But he learns how to survive. He learns how to find the most edible food in the big bins around the back of the shops, he learns the safest alleyways to sleep in and the best lake for a quick bath. Ezra learns to pickpocket and shoplift and Ezra learns that nobody knows his name anymore. They just call him ‘loth-rat’, but even the other street kids won’t speak to him.

Some days Ezra reckons he’s gone invisible and nobody can see him anymore. They all walk past him in the street, even when he’s freezing and hungry, begging for a few credits to help him out. Even when he’s crying and pleading for someone to let him inside to warm up, just for a few minutes. He’d kill to be inside for a few minutes.

But nobody listens, and Ezra doesn’t know why. They’ve left him for dead, to rot on the streets of Lothal, forever wondering why the world stopped and yet everyone else keeps moving.

Eventually, Ezra stops caring about the ‘why’s of the world and focuses more on the ‘how’s. How to survive, how to get more food, how to slip past the bigger kids without being noticed. How to make it through one more winter, one more freezing night on the street.

Ezra gets by just fine with not knowing, in fact he quite likes it. He likes to know that he knows nothing, not how to read or how to speak proper like everyone else, but he gets by just fine. He’s got it all sorted out, a tower to live in and food stored in a cupboard. There’s no need for answers when Ezra is doing just fine on his own.

And then come along the Ghost crew and Ezra thinks he fits in quite nicely, a ghost living on the Ghost. He has three square meals a day, a blanket to sleep under and Hera even buys new clothes. She can be a bit strict sometimes, she makes him shower every day and insists he wash his hair with shampoo twice a week minimum. He uses the same shampoo that Kanan uses and now he always smells like the man too.

Kanan teaches him things, gives him answers to questions that he didn’t know existed. Things start to make sense and Ezra only now realises how little he understood about himself. About the weird feelings he gets, about how he always knows when a fist is about to come flying at his face. Everything is falling into place.

Zeb and Sabine make fun of him sometimes, just for how he does things. He’s not sure why they think it’s so weird that he eats so fast. Don’t they know how easy it is for someone else to steal your food away? They frown at him when he admits that he doesn’t know how to read, Zeb asks why his school never taught him and then Hera calls him away quickly.

Everyone starts reading with him after that, teaching him the letters of the alphabet and what they look like, how to draw them. Ezra tries not to feel too put on the spot. He supposes they’re just trying to be nice, but Ezra’s never needed to read before, he’ll get by just fine without knowing a little longer. They all seem to enjoy it, though, so he lets them teach him and soon enough he’s racing Hera to finish odd books Kanan finds on the holoweb for them.

It takes a while, but Ezra gets used to the casual ‘love you’s that get thrown about the ship every night when he turns in. The first time, he freezes when Hera shouts it down the hall and promptly bolts to his room. The last time he heard that phrase was the morning his parents died. In a year, he’s gone from nobody daring to speak to him to having those words called to him like it’s natural. Of course, Ezra understands now that nobody spoke to him out of fear of the Empire. But still, it doesn’t make sense for Hera to be saying this.

But then Kanan starts saying it too and now Ezra really doesn’t know what to do. But they never stop, in fact it begins to replace any form of ‘goodbye’ and Ezra quite likes it. He doesn’t say it back.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t say it back, he tries a few times, braces himself and spends an hour mustering up the courage but as soon as he sees Hera cooking dinner in the galley, he freezes. In the end, he chops the vegetables for her.

Somewhere along the line, he’s found a family and he’s not quite sure where it came from but he certainly enjoys it. The casual banter and bizarre inside jokes. Knowing that there’s always someone who will have his back, that they’ll never ignore him and never pretend he doesn’t exist makes it easier to go to sleep. He’ll never wake up in the cold again, never wake up alone, wondering why everybody hates him all of a sudden.

And then Kanan makes an awful decision. Ezra should have seen this coming, should have known this was his plan all along but the thought never crossed his mind. In all of these battles they’ve fought, all the missions they’ve been on, hell even after all the nightmares he’s had about it, it never once crossed Ezra’s mind that Kanan might die.

He doesn’t look scared when it happens, in fact he looks perfectly at peace. He smiles at Hera as he pushes her away and lets the flames consume him. It’s almost as though he thought they’d be okay without him. Ezra doesn’t know where he could have gotten such a preposterous notion from. They are not okay without him.

Every night, he can hear Sabine sniffling through the wall that separates their bunks, Zeb is grumpier than ever and even Chopper seems more dull. There’s less spontaneous electrocution which Ezra supposes he should be grateful for, yet part of him misses it.

And then there’s Hera. He knows how hard she’s trying to hard to hide it, but he can feel every emotion lying behind her facade of coping. Ezra doesn’t know why Kanan would do this, why he would hurt Hera like this and why he’d leave him. Ezra doesn’t know enough about the Force yet, about being a Jedi to become half the man that Kanan was. Ezra doesn’t know what to do without his Master.

Now it falls to Ezra to make these decisions and he doesn’t know which is the right one. He guesses and guesses, hopes and prays, begs and pleads for guidance. In the end, he still doesn’t know that to do. But if there’s one thing he learned from being on the streets is that if you act confident enough, nobody will second guess you.

So he makes the damn video and tells Sabine that he’s counting on her. He says his goodbyes and still can’t tell them how much he loves them. He doesn’t know why, when it matters more than ever, he can’t tell them something so simple.

Ezra doesn’t know why he wants to backtrack, to jump off of Thrawn’s ship and hope Hera will see him and catch him. Ezra doesn’t know where he’s going to end up or if this is even going to work. Kanan would have a better idea. Kanan should be here.

But he isn’t and Ezra doesn’t want to hate him for it, but a part of him is really pissed off. No matter how at peace he tries to be, no matter how hard he tries to accept that Kanan is never coming back, he just wants the man to walk up the ramp to their ship one more time.

Now neither of them will.

Ezra doesn’t know where he is, on this strange planet with no intelligent life forms for miles other than the one man who ruined Ezra’s life just when it was starting to look up again. But it’s okay, because Sabine will come for him and Ezra just has to hold out until she finds him. Surely, it can’t take that long.

So he sets up camp and reminds himself of how to keep warm when sleeping out in the elements. He got quite good at it once upon a time, so he knows how to do it now. He doesn’t know what plants are safe to eat or what animals to hunt for dinner, but he learns through trial and error.

Thrawn is doing something, he can feel the Grand Admiral’s presence on the planet, plotting and planning while Ezra waits. It doesn’t matter that Ezra doesn’t know, because he’ll never be able to get off this planet, wherever they are. His venator was destroyed by the Purgill.

Ezra doesn’t know why it’s taking Sabine so long to come find him, doesn’t know why he’s still here in the freezing cold. In all the spare time he now finds himself with, Ezra tries to teach himself more, to learn about the Force and become stronger. He misses having a teacher to guide him, misses having Kanan telling him what to do and how to be.

Every day he wishes he’d learned just a bit more, just asked a few more questions while he was alive. If he’d just trained harder, perhaps he’d have been good enough to save Kanan. Selfishly, he wonders if, had Kanan been alive, Ezra could have stayed home.

Ezra doesn’t know a lot, but he does know that everything he’s learned came from the smartest people alive. And those smart people are going to find him one day. Until then, Ezra will stay here with the Noti, haunted by ghosts of his past, wondering if anyone will ever know how it feels, if he’ll ever be able to tell them. For now, he has no choice but to wait and float in this not knowing, forever waiting for his family to bring him home.

[mad-hunts]

have i ever talked about how barton is genuinely jealous of people who seem happy because he feels so hollow a majority of the time that even when he's 'happy,' he's not really happy? because i just 😭 yeah...

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2024 Day 14: "I wear my camo to your favourite club, 'cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted and helpless with no control."

tfw your boyfriend's BIL does NOT approve

---

I just like to imagine Mithos a) does not approve of Yuan being with his sister but also b) does ABSOLUTELY NOT approve of Yuan being with literally anybody else, be it in any scenario where he's not with Martel anymore OR a poly relationship Martel is explicitly in favour of. ("Martel, it's Adam and EVE, not Eve and Whatever Debauchery These Two Degenerates Have Going On! D:")

Sorry it took so long to upload everything.

[darklight-owl]

*walks out of a social situation covered in blood* hey guys i think i MIGHT be autistic

[todayisafridaynight]

NO YEAH IF ANYONE'S EQUIPPED TO KICK ASS IN THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE IT'S THE ARAKAWAS LMAO

Okay, in terms of Aoki's actual arrest, that would've been chiefly for (as the news ticker says) incitement to murder and, y'know, taking a police officer hostage/assaulting a police officer.

I believe incitement is weighed the same as perpetration. While the gang survived the explosion, Ishioda didn't (I think?), so it's more than "attempted" murder. And because of the number of people involved, it would probably be considered incitement to aggravated murder, which narrows the options to a life sentence or the death penalty (or, at the very least, marks them as strong possibilities).

While normally incitement is difficult to prove (as it would be for most every other instance he did it; Jo would never talk, Ishioda is Kind Of Dead, and for Arakawa Tendo was, yeah, acting of his own accord), they have some pretty solid evidence + probably a confession, given Aoki's intentions to turn himself in.

So in terms of the original question, there isn't really much else that needs to be considered, since it's not like it can get any worse than a life sentence no matter what else he confesses to… Aside from the death penalty, but if Jo managed to avoid one, Aoki probably could? Unless Jo's age was a consideration since realistically a life sentence would probably kill him in the same amount of time it'd take to carry out an execution.

But for the sake of completionism, Suzumori's murder could very much be argued as a case of self-defense. Being assaulted after his body had already been pushed to its limits absolutely could have resulted in his death, so it'd probably be down to possession charges. I can understand Arakawa and Jo being dead set on keeping him out of prison even with that being the case, though; prison lowers the average person's lifespan as-is, and it could very well have killed Masato.

After that it's mostly a laundry list of collusion and corruption charges I'm not crazy enough to unpack, but. Yeah. I think Aoki and Jo would've been in for life… Kinda makes me wonder how it all would've played out if Aoki'd had that change of heart and they spent those last years together and Jo inevitably died first...

essentially, for the Quick Byte version for the mate who initially asked: life sentence if not the death penalty

[learningfromlosing]

Love not having my asks up. Love only letting people I personally follow message me. Like if you got something to say to me you're gonna have to ask me take a step outside.

[leifyposting]

*appears as if summoned* did someone say fic recs?

first off, op: really really great points on diluc and the diluc&kaeya relationship. i'll do some rambling about diluc characterization in the tags but for now, here are four fics i think might fit what you're looking for!

this work, from @chidorinnnnn, is THE diluc&kaeya fic in my mind. like, no fic has ever topped this one as a study of their dynamic (and probably no fic ever will). the strange muted understanding. carefully finding your footing. the way things could have been and maybe should have been but aren't, and maybe that's okay too. bonus points for the parallel between their fathers, which you mentioned too

moving on to a more diluc-centric piece, from @dandelion-wings. it is so so hard to find good diluc fic because he is such a strange and contradictory character, but this diluc makes the most sense in my head. featuring genuinely gut-wrenching interactions between the boys (one line in particular tears me up every time) and a build-up to tragedy that rivals macbeth

bit of a different piece here: a modern au in which diluc and kaeya reconcile at the end of the world (tw major character death). i cry every time i read this one. their dynamic in this fic is similar to the first one but more messy - you know, finding your footing with the person who used to be your everything now that you are different people than you used to be, and also the world is ending

i read this more than a year ago and have not stopped thinking about it since. it's a longer read but so worth it. the worldbuilding is so intricate and every character and relationship in here is so beautifully fleshed out - not just diluc and kaeya but also the people of mondstadt and how they relate to one another. this author also has an amazing (and shorter) crepus&kaeya fic that i think you might enjoy

anyway! hope that was helpful. these are my four favourite diluc&kaeya fics ever so i hope you enjoy them! thank you for sharing your thoughts with us as well!

The Genshin Impact fandom is fascinating to me when it comes to fanfics, because I feel like I struggle to find any fics that really *get* the characterization of certain characters and I'm loathed to write my own because dammit I just want to read the specific itch I crave without resorting to creating it. Give me three more months and I'll cave in.

For example, Diluc is one of my favorites and I find his backstory fascinating in terms of his father Crepus possibly being more morally ambiguous than most fans are willing to admit and how little we know of Diluc's murder spree in Snezhnaya.

For example which Harbinger(s) did he have a run-in with? Will we find out more about the secret intelligence network that took him in, that he apparently had a high position in? Did he ever find the answers he was searching for? The list goes on.

It's hard for me to find the specific characterization of him I crave for in fics because I think his platonic relationship with Kaeya is incredibly nuanced and complex but I feel like his character often gets assassinated for Kaeya angst but like, the man had the worst birthday ever?

Imagine being Diluc, living through a literal worst nightmare. Your dad is dead after you failed to protect him yourself. Not only is your dad dead but he died after wielding a delusion--you dont even know what a delusion is but its clearly bad news. Why the fuck did your father have it and how?

On top of this, the Favonius Knights--the organization you proudly served and the very organization that your father heavily encouraged you to serve--insists on covering up the truth because it makes them look bad. The Favonius Knights, who are supposed to be honorable and uphold integrity, are anything but that.

Then your adoptive brother, who you've known for years and trust with your life, shows up and tells you he's been spying for a foreign nation since you were kids with the intent of harming Mondstadt and everything about your relationship is possibly all one big lie and well--how do you not snap??

Now, I'm also incredibly fond of Kaeya and he was just as traumatized by Crepus's death. He was wracked with guilt for *feeling* relieved that he didn't have to worry about betraying his birth father for his adoptive father since Crepus was dead. He anticipated Diluc's anger and felt like their duel was a punishment for his lies.

To me, it hints that Kaeya probably didn't reveal the truth expecting Diluc's understanding, but rather he knew how he would react and perhaps he wanted Diluc to strike him down in that duel. Or at the very least, he wanted to distance himself from Diluc and cut off ties in order to avoid emotional attachment stopping him from his mission.

I personally head-canon that Diluc withdrew upon seeing Kaeya's vision because well--why would the gods bless Kaeya with a vision if he truly had the intent to harm Mondstadt? So in spite of what Kaeya revealed, he isn't a threat. But there's still a lot of hurt there to navigate through.

I think it's fascinating seeing where they stand in present game because Kaeya obviously has the ideology of working the system from within. He stayed in the knights (even taking over his brother's position) and with Jean rooted out the Inspector and his cronies.

Meanwhile Diluc just isn't that type of person. He doesn't settle, he refuses to work in a system he views corrupt, he rather accomplish what he can outside of it. Curiously, he doesn't challenge the status quo beyond being vocal of his distaste of the Knights.

This is head-canon fantasyland, but I like to envision Kaeya and Diluc do use a lot of the same informants and collaborate on intel relating to the safety of Mondstadt (especially since Diluc can move in ways against the Fatui that the Knights can't due to political reasons) but they struggle to have the same connection as before.

For example, Diluc's story quest--Kaeya was essentially giving Diluc an alibi with the Knights. Even if Jean damn well knows who it is, they still have to have official documentation stating otherwise.

Kaeya is good at reading people, he has to be given how he was raised to be a child spy. But I like to think he struggles to read Diluc like before. Diluc is much more jaded, pessimistic, quieter than before. He prefers to work on his own as much as possible. From Kaeya's pov, the only person he's seen Diluc willing to fully trust enough to work alongside with is the Traveler, and he states as much.

The opposite is true of Diluc. Kaeya was his shadow, a quiet but inquisitive, witty observer. Cavalry Captain Kaeya is much more outgoing and friendly, his charm on full display. Did he ever really truly know Kaeya or did he only show Diluc what he wanted him to see? Is Kaeya happier this way?

Fanon often depicts Kaeya as essentially being barred from the dawn winery from the duel by Diluc himself, but I don't think that's quite the case. Much rather, given the reason he told Diluc that night, I think he views himself as undeserving due to unresolved guilt.

Canon seems to hint at all of this through his hangout and Hidden Strife, the latter of which is unfortunately a time-limited event that occurred before I even played (hoyo please stop having heavy lore drops occur in time limited events).

I think the two want to trust each other again, but both are afraid of destroying the tentative truce they have so they leave all of it unaddressed. Kaeya refuses to be completely truthful ever again and Diluc acknowledges the past but refuses to discuss it. The tragedy in their relationship that neither is at fault for what happened--it's a twisted emotional mess of grief and heartbreak.

The last point I'd like to touch on is the parallels between Kaeya and Diluc both being essentially child soldiers for their fathers' causes.

For Kaeya, being abandoned in Mondstadt to be a child spy is the most overt. For Diluc? Despite Crepus's strong ambition to be a Favonius Knight and to have a vision--neither happened for him. In Diluc's vision story, it states that he views his vision being a result of their "shared" ambition, hinting that his vision was granted after Diluc's strong resolve to achieve his father's dreams for him.

We know Crepus heavily encouraged Diluc down this path at very young age, given Diluc received his vision at age 10 and became the youngest Captain at age 14. In some ways, I'm sure Kaeya was a bit jealous of Diluc for having a loving father present in his life that was overtly proud of him.

I am not saying Crepus wasn't a good father, I think he cared immensely for Kaeya and Diluc both, but I do think he did some morally grey shit.

Diluc abandoning his vision is fascinating and it's almost never explored in fics. He is the only vision holder we know of (aside from the Inazumauns whose visions were taken by force) that had their ambition for their vision shaken in such a way that they voluntarily discarded their vision for a time and only took it back after reigniting a new ambition to have it (and as far we know the only allogene that faced no negative setbacks from using a delusion long-term without their vision present).

I don't know where to end all of this, except if you have ragbros fic recommendations that you believe cover it in a more nuanced way, let me know!

[apatheticsunday]

Dead on Main Sugar Daddy

AKA "Ghost King Danny unintentionally becomes Jason "Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss" Todd's sugar daddy" prompt!

This is kind of a continuation of Graveyard Favors, but not really lmao.

I just love the idea of Jason coming back from the dead, wearing all Expensive Clothes and literally ancient cursed jewelry, and Bruce is just like, "Where did you get that? I didn't buy it for you. You haven't used your allowance either?" And Jason's obviously not going to admit he has the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead as a sugar daddy. (Maybe he would, he's a dramatic theatre kid at heart, but it's funnier if he just straight up lies.)

He says, "I'm literally a crime lord, old man, keep up?? Jesus."

But the more he thinks about it, the more he actually likes the idea. Jason wants to help people, make sure they never experience the same fate he did, and where else to do it than the place he grew up? He knows there are tons of kids he can help, families who have a lack of resources. He's not afraid to get his hands dirty - he's already killed the Joker.

So, Jason calls up his Ghost King sugar daddy, points to Crime Alley, and is like, "I want that."

Danny, in Tucker's ratty Amity-U hoodie and ripped jeans, cheesepuff sticking halfway out of his mouth, "What???"

Danny declares Crime Alley as Jason's Haunt. It's officially Jason's territory in both the human realm and the Ghost Zome; conveniently, that also means that no supernatural (dead or alive) can enter the territory without Jason knowing. It also makes Crime Alley emit major Do Not vibes. Bad guys feel this Dread of being watched constantly, residents feel a bit safer knowing there's somebody who will help if they're in danger, and Jason patrols often enough that everybody starts to associate him as the local crime lord. He also uses Danny's money to invest in some social programs in Crime Alley, like open access food pantries, shelters, domestic violence & sexual assault support, a community garden, little libraries, funding for after school activities, etc.

Because the former Ghost King is absolutely loaded. Danny has eons of old stuff piled in his throne room in the Ghost Zone from Aztec Gold to alien technology. He's not using it and nobody's gonna miss it, so if Jason asks for it, Danny gives it to him. (Does he know Jason is selling it for an absolute shitton of money? Maybe, maybe not. He doesn't really care where it ends up as long as it won't cause the apocalypse.)

So, yeah, that's how Jason actually becomes the crime lord of Crime Alley.

[kitten4sannie]

sleepover

pairing: perverted bsf! wooyoung x fem! reader feat. a comatose mingi (he’s asleep on the bed lmao…or is he…)

summary: wooyoung is more than willing to hold you when you’re afraid during your horror movie marathon, and even more willing to help distract you like a good friend does.

wc: 1.4k

warnings: perverted dom! wooyoung, subby innocent! reader, bro is convincing and manipulative okay, slight dubcon-ish vibes (if that’s not your thing feel free to skip!!), coercion/corruption, exhibitionism (all of the following is done right next to mingi), brief kissing, groping, fingering, initial orgasm denial,, tit play + spit, rough unprotected sex, creampie, this is a wild one idkidkkkkk

a/n: wooyo has been haunting my brain lately so i had no choice but to write this >~< i hope you enjoy <33

song rec: if you think i’m pretty - artemas

“I told you not to put this movie on, Woo. It’s way too scary,” you complained whinily into your best friend’s shoulder, shielding your eyes from the suspenseful scene playing out on the laptop sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Mingi was the one who wanted to watch it, you know,” Wooyoung chided, causally wrapping his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your bare arm up and down in a comforting manner.

“Well, Mingi’s passed out.” Pouting, you pointed to your other friend that was curled up underneath the comforter beside you, his eyes shut. “He’s not even watching, so what’s the point?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t be a pussy.” His cold fingers made their way down to your waist to squeeze at it, making you jump from the sudden contact. “Oh, I see….Do you think the monster’s gonna get ya?”

“Shut up, Wooyoung!” you whisper-shouted, as to not wake up Mingi. You pushed on his chest, feeling his heart beat quickly against your hand. Was it racing like yours was? And, when did he get so close to you? His hand was already running up and down the bare skin of your thigh, causing your thin shorts to ride up more and more, but you didn’t have the nerve to confront him about it. Your pout grew. “I’m really scared, okay?”

“Oh, you poor baby,” Wooyoung cooed softly into your ear, his words laced with faux pity, his sharpened gaze focused solely on your blushing face. “Do you want me to help you, Y/N? Distract you from the scary movie?”

“Y-yes, please…”

You didn’t know what you were getting into, but you trusted that Wooyoung had your best interest in mind. It was then that he gently coaxed you further into his arms, lying comfortably against him as you faced the laptop screen once again. Goosebumps began to spread across your limbs from underneath the warm comforter, but it wasn’t from the frightening movie — it was from Wooyoung’s hand slipping underneath your shorts, his slender fingers rubbing at your pulsing cunt through your panties.

“W-Wooyoung…” you croaked weakly, your face and body growing so hot, you could pass out. Friends didn’t do this sort of thing, did they?

“Shhhh, baby, just look at the screen…yeah, just like that…” he sighed softly, his warm breath fanning over your neck, now concentrating on the way your tank top clung to your softness of your tits, how your nipples grew hard enough to poke through the thin material, groaning when he found your clit through your panties, rubbing at it in slow, small circles.

“B-but we’re friends, Woo…” You made a sad attempt at pushing his hand away, the moral debate you were having internally slowly fizzling away the longer Wooyoung touched you.

“Isn’t this what friends are for?” Wooyoung persisted, pulling your panties to the side just in time for his fingers to dip in between your soaked folds. “And, fuck, you’re so wet right now, Y/N. It feels good, doesn’t it? What’s so wrong with that, baby?”

“But, nnngh…Mingi’s right next to us…” You began to melt into Wooyoung’s arms and the soft mattress below you, unable to resist spreading your legs out for him, your thigh even resting against Mingi’s, not noticing when it shifted just as two of Wooyoung’s digits slipped inside you.

Licking at his lips, Wooyoung then pressed them onto your cheek, egging you on in a low voice, “Then, tell me to stop, baby.” He began to fuck his fingers into you at a fast pace, your walls clenching around them. “Right now. Say it.” Now, he was relentlessly rubbing his thumb into your clit with his free hand, still working your cunt, hooking his digits against the spot that made you spasm, your body growing warmer and heavier. He suddenly mirrored your pathetically helpless expression, a sadistic smile slipping through when he asked airily, “What’s the matter, baby? Hm?”

“Oh– fuck, right there…” you moaned out, not even attempting to look at the laptop screen in front of you, instead solely focused on your best friend beside you, so desperate to cum, you began to roll your hips down every time his fingers plunged into you.

“Yeah? You’re feeling really good now, aren’t you, Y/N? Now that you’re nice and full? Just look at you, baby…You can’t help but fuck yourself dumb on my fingers, huh?” Wooyoung looked like the monster from the movie now, eyes full of hunger, like he was ready to eat you up.

“Uh-huh, uh-huhhh…” Just as your sounds of pleasure began to crescendo, your mind growing cloudier by the second, pulling at the sheets below you because you were right there, Wooyoung ceased his movement completely, leaving you high and dry. “No, please, don’t stop, please…!”

Wooyoung gave you a look of indifference, much like a cat that suddenly wasn’t interested in playtime anymore. “Show me your tits. Maybe then I’ll make you cum.”

Desperate for your best friend’s attention and touch, you slowly rolled your tank top up until your tits spilled out, tears pricking at your eyes. How did you get here? Why did Wooyoung’s deliciously dark gaze distract you from the paralyzing shame you felt? Or is that what made you wet? The way you were slutting yourself out for your best friend while the other was sleeping right next to you. Either way, it didn’t really matter to you anymore. “Please make me cum, Y-Youngie…”

“Fuck, you’re so cute, come here.” Now, Wooyoung was on top of you, leaving as much of his saliva on your tits as possible, squeezing one when he was noisily sucking on the other, his dilated eyes never leaving your teary ones. “Can I fuck you, Y/N? I’ll make you cum, I promise…I need to be inside you, baby, please, you’re so fucking hot…” Desperate for release, Wooyoung lowered his sweatpants until his heavy cock dropped onto your bare cunt, rubbing himself along it, making your mind grow that much more empty. “Just the tip, okay? That’s okay, yeah?”

Before you knew it, you were nodding, and just like that, he was inside you, your best friend, using you like a cocksleeve. Wooyoung was ramming his cock into your cunt like he was trying to knock you up. “That’s a good slut, fuckkk, taking me so well…” You tried to moan, to speak, to say anything, but you couldn’t, not with the way his tongue suddenly went down your throat.

All you could do was cling onto Wooyoung, your nails digging into his skin when it felt like the tip of his cock was pounding into your cervix, almost growing dizzy. Listening to your best friend growl about how he was going to fuck you full of his cum, you gasped, unable to talk, short, broken moans being punched out of you each time Wooyoung slammed himself into you, your thighs hooking around his waist once his hot load began to pour into you. It was then that you turned your head just in time to realize Mingi was watching you intently, his plush lips parted just enough to let drool slip past, catching onto the way that his hand was moving rapidly underneath the comforter down near his abdomen.

“Told you she would put out, didn’t I, Min?” Wooyoung mused smugly, fucking you through the orgasm that tore through your used body, using your bruised hips like handlebars as he did so.

“You were so right, Woo, so, so right,” Mingi sighed out, tossing his head back into the pillow behind him, his cum soaking into the material of your comforter.

You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to cum again, instead just trying to catch your breath, hiding your face underneath one of your wrists, at least until Wooyoung pulled it down and made you look at the both of them.

“You’ll let Mingi have a turn, won’t you, Y/N? It’s only fair, right?”

Mingi nodded in agreement, before leaning in, licking across his teeth. “Having my cock inside your little used cunt next will make another good ‘distraction’, don’t you think?”

Even though the credits were rolling on the laptop behind them, the monsters hadn’t left. They were right there in front of you, waiting for your permission to ravage you. You couldn’t help but nod. They were your best friends, after all.

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