#(or you know the whole he's gone through Horrors so that others went through less and all that -gestures at his main weapon verses-)

[godzexperiment]

this website sliding me an sacrifices based meme (i am looking at nix's sacrificial nature disrespectfully)

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (24/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

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

Chapter Summary: Furniture shopping is more exciting when there's talks about buying new stuff - like a bed.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

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A/N: hello loves! part twenty-four is here and I hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!!!

The fact that Kika is just lying on your bed instead of snuggling up completely in your fluffy blanket is a miracle. 

"I liked the light blue mom jeans best," she says as you stand in front of the large mirror leaning against the wall next to the door to your room and look at yourself. "With the white oversized turtleneck - smash."

You look at her through the mirror. "Haha."

"I'm serious." She leans on her elbows and tilts her head. "If you wear white sneakers with it, it'll even work with the sandwich method. I've seen it on TikTok. And I swear to you - people will turn their heads to look at you."

"I don't want people turning their heads at me," you confess quietly, adjusting the soft fabric of your top. "I just want to look halfway okay."

"Trust me. You look more than okay."

After Kika and Pierre have stormed your apartment with their spare key - which at first annoyed you, but in the next moment made you feel quite relieved - your girlfriend has taken it upon herself to unpack your suitcase and pick out an outfit for you that matches your trip to the furniture store.

Unpacking your suitcase simply consisted of pulling out one item at a time and tossing it aside if it didn't meet her expectations. The pile of clothes next to the bed is the result of her search.

" Let it go," she warns you as you adjust the position of the hem of the sweater on your shoulder. "You look good. When I think about my first outfit as Pierre's girlfriend - it was pure horror."

"But I'm not a girlfriend," you reply as you reach for the jeans Kika is holding out to you. "I'm his friend. His roommate. Nothing more," you exhale, "and nothing less."

The Portugese woman watches you slip into your pants. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Caught off guard, you look at her. Are your feelings for the Monegasque so obvious that she can even see it on your face? Is your affection written all over your forehead? You can't name your emotional state, you can't say a word that could even begin to describe what you feel for Charles - but there's no question that it's definitely something other than pure friendship. 

No matter how often and vehemently you try to convince yourself that Charles is your friend, you are an incredibly bad liar. 

"I remember being incredibly nervous the first time we went out in public. I think I changed outfits three or four times before I was halfway happy."

Oh.

You sit down on the edge of the bed with her. "I want all of this. I want him." You clear your throat as Kika gives you a meaningful look. "His friendship, that is. And I'm also willing to take the risk of people not liking me and talking badly about me." You clasp your hands in your lap.

Kika sits up straight. "But?"

You curl your lips into a thin line. "I - I don't know." How do you explain to her that you're worried that his fans could dislike you so much that they doubt Charles? You're going public as friends, something that bothers you a little more than it should. But the Monegasque has also said that people will think what they want. 

What if they hate you so much - your looks, your mediocrity, your being - that Charles catches on and he realizes they're right in their opinion?

"I just want to make a good impression."

Your friend reaches for your hand. "You will. And after all, you're just friends. The public's opinion isn't all that important." You don't see her look, which says so much more than what she actually says.

"Right."

Kika lets go of your hand and stands up from the bed. "I'll be with you the whole time. We'll work it out. I promise." She tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "So, let's get going. This room is pretty bleak and could use some color," she says before pulling you off the bed and out of the room.

As you slip into your shoes at the front door, the men join you.

"So, Pierre and I are sitting -" Charles begins, but suddenly stops when he sees you. His eyes wander over your body and goose bumps spread along their path. He remains silent until Pierre nudges him. "Uhm, sorry. Yes. We - um - we're both going to sit in the front of the car because -" He scratches the back of his neck nervously, but can't take his eyes off you. "The plan is for Kika and you to go through the furniture store together and Pierre is coming with me. Just so that we are seen together as little as possible, but are still out and about together," he explains. 

You understand why this is all going to happen. He wants to protect you and you want to let him, but you can't stop your heart from getting a little bruised. 

When Kika notices your offended look, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "So much planning for simple shopping with friends? Is that really necessary?"

As you look up from your shoes, you look straight into Charles' beautiful green eyes. Something that looks exactly like how you feel flickers across his face. "It is." He stands up straight. "Shall we?"

Kika smiles gently at you. "Let's liven this place up a bit, then." She grabs Pierre's hand and together the two of them walk out of the apartment towards the elevator, while Charles and you stay behind. You both look after them. 

"Is everything all right?" asks the Monegasque and stands next to you. 

"Everything's fine," you answer him curtly. You don't dare look at him. 

"Y/N," he says as he gently grasps your wrist and turns you towards him. "Mon amour, you know why I'm doing this, don't you?" His hand slips a little lower so your fingers can intertwine.

"'Mh-hmm." 

"Hey." His other hand rests gently against your cheek, making you look at him. "Hey." His thumb gently strokes your cheekbone. "I'm trying to protect you. That's my priority. Making sure you're okay is my priority. And if that means we can't walk through any stores next to each other for now, just so the public can get used to you, then I'll put up with it." His gaze twitches briefly to your mouth. "Even if it's not what I want."

You nuzzle your face against his warm hand. "And what do you want?" you ask softly. 

"You." 

His answer makes the blood sizzle in your veins. It feels as if the warmth of his skin is burning through your face, as if the nerve endings under your skin are sending little electric shocks through your muscles and forcing your heart to stop. You take a deep breath.

"I want you near me." He squeezes your hand twice before pulling away. Your skin feels cooler without his touch. "But I'm responsible for what happens in public. And I don't want to risk anything happening to you because of me."

You nod weakly before wordlessly following the befriended couple. You hear Charles behind you, but you don't wait for him as you walk quickly to the others. The atmosphere in the elevator is tense as you are transported towards the underground garage, but no one tries to ease the tension. Kika and Pierre look at each other a little uncertainly, something that doesn't escape your gaze, and you can't blame them. The situation is just awful.

Pierre has thought far ahead, because when he presses a button on his car key, a large SUV opens up in the underground parking garage, sure to fit some decorative items. Charles' Ferrari, or God forbid your old Renault, might have been able to fit a picture frame, or at most a small mirror. 

You sit behind Charles, who has taken a seat in the passenger seat. Kika and Pierre are talking through the rear-view mirror while you look out of the window.

The longer you think about what Charles said - or didn't say - the more uncomfortable you feel. The hem of the sweater seems to have slipped, the collar feels too tight and the sleeves are scratching your elbows. You're not sure what you were hoping for, what the right answer would have been. But you're not particularly happy with the one you got. 

You also want to be close to him, permanently. And you can also understand why the plan involves you staying away from each other inside the furniture store. But is that really necessary if you're just friends? Has he done something similar with his other female friends, or are you the only one who has to put up with this fuss? 

Your thoughts are going round and round in your head, but as if by magic they suddenly come to a standstill. But it's not magic, it's Charles' hand that has squeezed past his seat on the right and is now gripping your leg. You feel his fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, where they rest against your calf. 

You try to regulate your breathing, but you can hear the blood pounding in your ears. Charles touching you is nothing new. You've been touching each other non-stop since last night, which doesn't help your feelings or your friendship, but it still feels indescribably good. 

It feels right the way his calloused hand wraps around your soft calf. It felt right the way his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt right to lie half-naked next to him in bed. 

It felt right to want him as something more. More than a roommate. More than a friend. 

And that's exactly why you slide your foot towards the car door, so that Charles can touch you more easily. You block out the voice that keeps whispering hypocrite to you as best you can. And the warmer his skin feels on yours, the tighter his fingers close around your calf, the better it works. 

"I'll let you both out right at the entrance and we'll park in the back of the parking lot," Pierre interrupts your thoughts before they're no longer PG. "You can go inside and we'll follow. That's the easiest way."

"Thank you very much," Charles says. "I'm sorry we're shamelessly taking advantage of you."

Pierre has to grin. "You're welcome to give me a position in Bahrain, then we'd be even."

"You'd have to get close to me on the track first."

The two men argue amicably until the car comes to a halt in front of the deserted entrance. Just as you are about to open the door, Charles's fingers gently squeeze your leg twice and you have to suppress a smile, otherwise Kika would tease you endlessly. As you both get out and the car drives away, she latches on to you. 

"Are you ready?" she asks as you walk towards the glass door together. 

"Definitely."

Kika has very good taste in decorating and if she hadn't become a model, she could definitely have worked at Ikea putting together those fake rooms. As you push a shopping cart in front of you, she skips through the aisles, grabbing anything that matches in color or style. Picture frames, vases, mirrors and fake plants that would look good on the windowsill in your room. 

She's examining which of the candles in front of her would go better with the vases in the shopping cart when your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. 

Charles: If one of the candles burns down our apartment, I'll have to charge you rent. 

Confused, you read the message before looking up and around. Charles is standing about twenty meters away from you, smiling at you over the shelves. You bite the inside of your cheek.

You: You don't need my money, Mr. Ferrari. After all, you make millions a year. 

You raise an eyebrow challengingly as Charles reads your message. You can see his grin clearly, even from this distance. 

Charles: If you burn down my expensive apartment, I'll have to find a new one, and they're not exactly cheap in Monaco, as you know. 

You: I thought it was our apartment?

Charles: If you let it burn down, you're welcome to keep it.

You: So you'd let me keep it? Our apartment?

Charles: I'd give you anything, mon amour. You just have to ask for it. 

You don't have time to think about his answer because Kika throws a stuffed animal dinosaur in your face. 

"Are you done flirting?" she asks, playing annoyed. "I'm trying to decorate your room and you'd rather flirt than help me."

You feel the blood rush to your face. "Excuse me?"

Her grin almost reaches your ears. "Gotcha."

"You can't possibly have caught me doing something I wasn't doing," you try to wriggle out of it, but Kika has bitten down like a little terrier.

"And why are you looking like you've eaten the last spoonful of tiramisu without asking if anyone else wants the rest?" 

"I haven't eaten any tiramisu," you defend yourself and hug the green stuffed animal tightly to your chest. 

"Not yet," she says gently and puts one of the candles in the cart with the rest. "But I'm afraid you could get diabetic if you're not careful with the tiramisu. A small piece is fine, but a double portion could almost be too much." 

You narrow your eyes. "I haven't eaten any tiramisu." Without taking your eyes off her, you put the green dino in the shopping cart too. "And I don't intend to."

"You're a bad liar," she says and stands next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "But that's all right. I still love you. And when your room looks really cool soon, I'll take the outfit pictures for my Instagram in front of your mirror."

She gives you a peck on the cheek and you roll your eyes. "Charles was right. We need to change the locks, then you can't disturb us anymore."

"Disturb? Disturbing what? Eating tiramisu?" she grins and you would have loved to suffocate her with the green dino. Apparently Kika can read minds, because she quickly lets go of your arms and continues to skip happily through the corridors while you follow her with the shopping cart. 

"How much do you think the things you picked out for me cost?" you ask her as she picks out more plants.

She takes a look at the shopping cart. "Something between two hundred and five hundred euros," she replies with a shrug.

"Kika, that's too much. Way too much," you try to stop her as she walks over to the rugs on display. "I can't pay for it. I'm unemployed, remember?" You're about to turn the shopping cart around and return the selected items to their rightful places, but Kika stands in your way. 

"Charles offered to pay for this," she says, confused, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the metal grille of the cart. 

"He what?" you ask, looking around in the hope of spotting Charles somewhere. But he's nowhere to be seen.

"Pierre sent me a text message to leave the car at the checkouts when we're done. He said that Charles wanted to pay for it and that we should wait outside for them," she explains, tilting her head. "I thought he would have told you. I know you're unemployed, but because of the text message, I thought that - I assumed we could just pick out nice items without looking at the price."

You run your tongue over your teeth. "Give me a moment, please," you say briefly and leave her standing there with the shopping cart. 

You walk through every aisle, looking over every shelf in the hope of seeing Charles standing somewhere. And when, after ten minutes, you spot his brown curls in the furthest corner of the store, you don't care if the two of you are seen together. He's standing in front of a gray, hip-high box spring, with nice, dark bedding and comfortable-looking pillows placed on it. When you stop next to him, he doesn't look at you.

"I want to buy a new bed," he begins the conversation. "The one I have now is too low for me. What do you think of this one? I've tried it out. It's really comfortable and the perfect height for -" He falls silent before he can finish the sentence. 

"Kika says you want to pay for my things," you change the subject without answering his question. You don't take your eyes off the bed either. 

"That's correct."

"I don't want that," you say tersely. "I don't want you to pay for it."

"But I want to," he replies, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "Think of it as a gift."

"As a gift?" You raise an eyebrow. "As a gift for what?"

"For your friendship."

"You can have my friendship without buying me new things," you assure him, but you fall on deaf ears. 

"But I want to. I have so much money that I can't spend on my own, so I want to buy you nice things." He leans a little towards you so that your hands touch. "How expensive are the things? One thousand, two thousand euros?"

"Kika says five hundred at most."

"Then think of it as a small, early Christmas present," he says gently. Before you can object, he continues. "I want you to feel comfortable and if it costs me some money, then so be it. And it won't hurt my bank account in the slightest. So just say thank you and accept the gift."

"Thank you," you whisper reluctantly, but you know that it wouldn't do any good to go against his wishes. "Did you find something you want to buy?"

He smiles. "This bed, apparently. And bedding. And a mirror."

"Doesn't sound bad. I just hope you have as good a taste as Kika. After all, our things have to match," you joke.

Charles turns his head in your direction. "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it before I spend thousands of euros on it." As he says it and his fingers curl around your wrist, that feeling blossoms in your chest again.

You want to throw him on the bed in front of you, kiss him until you can't breathe and touch him until you can see stars. You want to feel his warm skin under your fingertips, feel his muscles tense as he pulls you on top of him and presses you against his firm body. You want to feel his weight on you as he lays you down on the bed and his lips trail down from your mouth. You want to - 

"Do you really think I'm going to try sleeping without you again when we've figured out that we both sleep better when we're together?" he asks, gently stroking the thin skin on your wrist with his thumb. You hope he can't feel your racing pulse underneath. "When we first met, you said that you hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time. And if it means I have to hold you in my arms so you can get a good night's sleep, then so be it. And it's not as if I don't enjoy having you close to me."

Before you can answer him, you feel a person standing at your other side and when you look, Kika is standing there. Her gaze flickers briefly to your hands before she turns to the bed as well. "Do any of you fancy a bite to eat?" she asks. "There's a restaurant nearby that serves incredibly good tiramisu. And it's never busy. We can go there if you like." She turns slightly in your direction and nudges you. "What about you? Do you want some tiramisu?"

More like a need than a want.

[gaylordscooter]

Where Fate Leads Us

Killer, Dust and Horror were in Killer's room, folding the multitude of clothes.

“don't expect me to do more of the chores around here just because you two offered to help me,” Killer said.

“sure, you'll be too busy with laundry anyway,” Horror chuckled.

“i literally will,” he said in full seriousness. He placed the shirt he folded onto the stack of shirts in his closet that was getting taller than he was standing. “i know i’ve joked that you two ain’t allowed to borrow my clothes—but yeah, please take some of these. i didn't expect there to be this much.”

“eh, it's not my style,” Horror shrugged, holding a pair of ripped jeans.

“horror, bud. please.”

Horror shook his head, “shouldn't have gotten so many clothes, man.”

“i swear nightmare gave me more than i grabbed.”

“that's definitely not true.”

“dust, back me up.”

Dust did not back him up.

Killer sighed, looking at his hubris that was the closet filled to the brim with stacks of clothing. He wouldn't have to do laundry that often if he washed all his clothes once he ran out of clean ones, but that would take so long. Eh, he’ll worry about it later.

They didn't see Nightmare until they started to eat dinner. He arrived without a word, keeping his gaze forward and away from the three as he walked over to the door to the hallway.

Killer dropped his fork upon seeing him.

A good amount of the goop on his body was gone, as if half of his body was washed off. Or scorched off. Something smelled burnt.

What surprised Killer the most was seeing his skull. He was a skeleton and he looked like him. He didn't expect that.

Nightmare spared a quick glance at Killer as he tried to walk faster. His gait was erratic, akin to limping. What little slime there was formed slim tendrils by his legs that he used as support to walk. 

The three stayed silent until a few moments after he left.

“he looks younger than me,” Killer said.

But rather than questioning it, the three decided to drop it there.

They didn’t see much of Nightmare until a whole week later. 

They were sitting at one of the tables in the Great Hall, conversing with each other. Soon enough the topic steered over to Nightmare.

“nightmare hasn't put us through anything recently, huh? not even a game of uno,” Horror said. Last time there was a dip in activity, he was paranoid, but he was oddly calm about it this time. Seeing Nightmare's other form changed the way he saw him, he supposed. It was easier to personify him. “what do you two think he's up to?”

Dust merely shrugged. Either because he didn't feel like talking or because he really didn't have a clue.

Killer seemed lost in thought, before speaking up, “he apologized.”

“huh?” Horror cocked his head.

“he apologized, for putting us through all that shit. maybe he meant it?” That apology would be worth nothing if he continued to do it, after all. Which is what he was expecting, but it's been a whole week since then and he has yet to tell them to do anything.

“he actually apologized? that's hilarious,” Horror said.

“i think he was being genuine, but i wonder why he’s been out more often.”

The obvious conclusion to this behavior would be that he's planning something, but none of them jumped to it. Perhaps they were beginning to trust him.

They were also all in a good mood today.

 Killer was able to get a good night’s sleep and woke up well-rested for once. He had a good breakfast consisting of ungodly amounts of buttered toast, tended to the cats, and now he was hanging out with the other two. It was a solid day.

Dust also appeared to be in a lighter mood. He was chatty by his standards and overall more relaxed. It was like less stuff was on his mind.

Horror didn't feel on edge constantly, almost feeling how he used to before the core went kaput. It was as if he felt safe, almost.

In fact, they’ve been in a good mood this whole past week. If their year-ago selves saw them now they'd find this weird and crazy.

“though, he always comes and goes in such a hurry…”

As if on cue, Nightmare entered the hall, throwing the doors open in a dramatic fashion that called for attention. He only had four tentacles out at the moment. That was half the usual amount.

“Hello,” he greeted. “How has everyone been today?” He has never asked that question before. He was being friendlier, perhaps.

“i’m doin’ good,” Killer answered without a second thought.

“‘m fine,” Horror said.

Dust nodded, indicating he felt the same.

Nightmare hid his smile. “I see, carry on then.” He left the hall, sinking into the ground to reappear in his room.

It was happening.

He felt incredibly weak at the moment, sure, but it would all pay off. He just needed to be patient.

He collapsed on his bed, reverting to his normal “passive” form as the protector of the multiverse called it. He was nearing the end of his plan. He will enact the last step tomorrow. He had to. If his exhaustion was anything to go by, he was running out of time.

The next morning, Killer was first to wake up. Another night of feeling well rested. It was a miracle. He sat up and stretched before getting up to throw on a change of clothes.

He went out to the hall, glancing at Horror and Dust’s doors before heading over to the kitchen.

He opened the pantry only to be met with nothing but chocolate bars. Instead of getting annoyed or mad he laughed.

He shut the pantry and composed himself. Why did he find it funny? Nightmare definitely targeted him with that one—No, it was just coincidence.

It was?

Killer shook his head trying to snap himself out of whatever was happening.

Something was happening, right? Something was off.

Nothing was off. He was just being silly.

He scratched the back of his head, opting to open the fridge.

And there was nothing but ketchup.

He slammed the door shut. Laughter erupted from his metaphorical throat. He ended up collapsing to the floor from how hard he was laughing.

He couldn't breathe. He didn't need to breathe.

But his chest still hurt. No it didn't. He couldn't feel pain.

Everything was fine.

His soul snapped into a target shape. He gasped for air and scrambled up to stand. It was like cold water was dumped onto him.

Something’s wrong, he tested the thought. Nothing came to counter it.

Something was messing with his head. For how long? Oh god, for how long?

Where the hell was Dust and Horror?! He wasn't ever the first to arrive in the kitchen, let alone first to wake up.

A cackle echoed throughout the area as the kitchen warped and twisted. The floorboards underneath him cracked and splintered, revealing dark nothingness beneath. The patterns on the wall had eyes, all glaring at him.

What the fuck was happening?

He choked out a breath, rushing over to the door that led to the hall. The door itself looked normal but when he grabbed the doorknob he couldn't let go of it, as if it grabbed back.

Was he still dreaming? Was this a hallucination?

The door flung open. He still couldn't let go of the handle.

It was Nightmare.

“Good morning, Killer,” he said calmly, as if their surroundings weren't collapsing in on itself. “Leaving the kitchen so soon? You haven't even eaten yet. Was the food not to your liking? But I picked it out just for you.” It sounded like his voice was coming from all directions. It was disorienting to say the least.

His eye, along with the eyes on the walls darted to his soul. He looked disappointed when he noticed its shape. He tsked, “After all the work I’ve put in, the stubborn thing is still unstable?”

“wh-what the hell are you talking about?” he rasped.

Nightmare snatched his soul with one of his hands. He leered down at it like a predator stalking its prey. He molded it with his hands back into the shape of a normal monster soul while Killer keened.

Killer grit his teeth as his emotions hit him at full force. It was now that he realized the unusual happiness he felt these past few days was not normal. That had to be Nightmare's doing.

That's why he thought he trusted him.

“you,” he growled, “you asshole!”

Nightmare merely drank up his anger with an amused expression. “Yes? Is that anything new?” he asked.

“fuck you!”

“Using big boy words now, aren't we?”

“i hate you.”

Nightmare was unfazed by the comment. “Tell me something I don't know.”

The door, along with the handle keeping Killer captive, suddenly disappeared. However, he still couldn't move. It was like he had sleep paralysis.

But unfortunately, he knew the demon was real.

“Do you want to know something funny? It isn’t just that I gain energy from negativity, positive emotions hurt. They sting like pouring acid on a wound as you wrench it open. But it was all worth enduring just to see the look of betrayal on your face.”

He was foolish. He was an idiot. He was an utter idiot!

Nightmare's smile spread impossibly wide across his face, curling up at the edges as he took in all of Killer's anguish. He was reveling in it.

“The best part, you were right to be untrusting. And then you second guessed yourself, leading to your downfall. It's pathetically hilarious.”

Killer wanted to wipe that smug face off so badly.

“I may not be able to force people to be happy like my brother, but I can maintain what is there by taking away your ability to feel anything negative. Isn't that fascinating? Your happiness was real. I tore that away from you.”

He felt sick. He felt utterly sick.

“I wonder. Do you think you three were the first ones?”

There was too much liquid determination leaking from his sockets. He retched, leaving a puddle on the torn up ground. He coughed more out, trying to prevent himself from choking on it.

Nightmare watched the display in amusement. He leaned down, reaching a hand out to caress the side of his face in a false display of affection. “Oh, Killer,” he cooed, voice sickly sweet, “You're getting my floors dirty.”

His touch was painful. It trudged up old and awful memories. He imagined that this is what everyone he killed felt when he dealt the final blow. With effort, he managed to tilt his head away from his hand.

Nightmare withdrew his hand, wiping it on his cloak as if Killer was covered in dirt.

“Oh mortals, so easy to fool. You pretend not to know things, ask questions and suddenly you seem less of a threat. He's ignorant to the world. So innocent. Surely he’s just misguided.”

Killer’s breath hitched. He tried not to break down in front of him. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn't. Usually it was second nature to suppress his emotions, but it was too much now.

God, it was all an act for a false sense of security. He played with them like dolls and now he was tossing them out. What was going to happen now? Was he going to kill him?

Back then he wouldn't have cared about that. But now, he wanted to live. He had people he cared about again.

Did he already kill Dust and Horror?

“You're crying,” he said with false concern. “Be grateful you're able to. The others and your cats didn't even have the chance to.”

“NO!” Killer cried at the implications. The dam broke as he sobbed audibly. He clutched at his head, digging his fingers into his skull. He was hyperventilating. “no, you didn't. you didn’t—no.” He collapsed to his knees, shaking as he repeated his words of disbelief.

“You're alone, Killer,” he said in a tone that was a mockery of comfort. His sadness was euphoric. “You know, you were always my favorite out of the bunch.”

Killer was hardly listening now, too wracked with grief to hear.

“Because I knew how satisfying it would be to build you back up, just to tear you down again.”

And it was satisfying. Killer served him a mess of emotions in a cocktail just for him.

This is what he wanted. This is what he was made for. Was the multiverse finally happy with him?

Everything went dark. Killer shut his eye sockets tight and braced himself for certain death.

“Goodbye,” Nightmare growled.

When he opened them, he saw white. He had to blink his sockets until they adjusted to the brightness. Was this the afterlife? It was so empty.

And quiet.

He stayed on the ground, unable to find the effort to stand. So that was it, huh? He thought he was given a second chance. He was given back control over his life—but that was just a mere illusion. They were all his puppets in the end. He was just good at hiding their strings.

He couldn’t deny the sense of betrayal he felt. It was funny, he knew he couldn’t trust him.

He was still crying. There was a stain on the ground now created by the liquid determination pouring from his sockets.

He remembered when he thought dying would bring him peace, but now he was mourning all the things he was unable to do. He already missed Dust and Horror.

He laid on the ground for a little while, numb to the passage of time.

“—and there's the third. Hey man, you good?” A voice spoke.

Killer jolted and staggered to his feet. He looked around the area frantically, not finding anyone nearby—until he looked down. He screamed and backed away on instinct.

It was another skeleton, notably shorter than him, but still looked like a Sans regardless. However, this one dressed drastically different from any Sans he’s seen. He wore a scarf around his neck, some kind of crop top over a white tank top, long brown gloves that only covered his ring and pinky finger, and a brown jumpsuit worn like pants with the sleeves tied around his waist. It was safe to say he was a fashion disaster.

He raised his hands to show he was empty handed and meant no harm. “It's okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The way he spoke reminded Killer of how he’d talk to a scared cat. Another sharp pang hit his soul as he remembered that he’ll never be able to see his cats again. “who the hell are you?” he asked, voice raw from all his screaming.

The skeleton looked confused at the question but answered anyway, “The name’s ink.” He did a dorky pose where he pointed to himself as he said that.

“so i’m not dead?” he questioned aloud.

“I sure hope you aren't. Your friends would be sad.”

Killer narrowed his eyes warily. “what friends?”

“Two sanses like you, one had a red eye and the other had his hood covering his face. They asked if i saw you.”

“when did you see them?! they're alive?” Hope kindled in his soul before he had the chance to be cautious.

“They are. I took them over to the hub just a bit ago,” Ink explained. “I can take you to them.”

“please!” Killer hastily said. He didn't even know what the “hub” was but all he knew is that he needed to get over to Dust and Horror now.

He reached his hand out to him.

Killer grabbed it without hesitation.

Ink’s scarves moved like prehensile tails and painted the ground beneath them which promptly turned into a hole.

The two of them fell, startling Killer, but fortunately once they got close to the ground, Ink slowed their fall by floating somehow.

He let go of his hand once they landed.

They were in a whole different world. His eye sockets widened. He looked around the new area and saw a multitude of unfamiliar people.

“killer?”

He whipped his head in the direction of the voice. His face lit up upon seeing Horror and Dust. “guys!” he shouted. He bolted over to the two, tackling them down into a hug.

“you're both alive!” he exclaimed. He clung to the two of them like a koala. “i thought nightmare killed you guys.”

“we thought nightmare killed you.” Horror patted his back comfortingly while Dust simply hugged him back.

Killer ended the hug and stood up after a bit, helping the two up. “i’m so glad it was a bluff,” he said in relief. “fuck, what an asshole.”

“what did he do to you? it looks like you were doused with black paint.”

Killer glanced down at his clothes. Sure enough there were black stains. He didn't really want to think about what happened, but even as he did he found it hard to describe. “well, first of all, everything was fucked up like i was having a bad trip, and then he gloated about killing you two and then i thought he killed me.” It was a really poor summary, but he believed he got the point across.

“and what’s up with all that?” Horror gestured to the black stains that trailed from his face to his shirt.

“i threw up,” Killer said, trying to wipe off the dried determination near his teeth.

Horror absentmindedly wiped his own shirt. He was transparently concerned.

“Woah woah woah, what the hell are these three doing here?!” a new voice shouted.

The three of them snapped their attention to the unfamiliar person, making him freeze in place as a result.

Killer noticed that Ink was next to him.

He was yet another Sans, slightly taller than Ink but shorter than the three of them. He wore a torn-up lab coat over a blue-gray shirt, navy blue pants, blueish-green gloves and boots of supposedly the same rubber-like material. He also wore a bandana the same color as his boots and gloves around his neck.

In short, he looked like a nerd.

Ink told him something too quietly for them to catch.

The nerd-looking Sans, gave them a weird look before daring to walk over to them with Ink trailing behind. He reached his hand out for a handshake. “Hi,” he said simply.

No one made a move to return the handshake.

“Don't any of you know how to greet a new pal?” The way he said that felt practiced. And then he snickered and dropped his hand. “So none of you remember those times you almost killed me? Cool. That's great. The name’s Blue.”

The three exchanged glances amongst themselves, seeing if any of them recognized this “Blue��. Nope, none of them did.

None of them felt inclined to introduce themselves either.

Blue tugged at his bandana awkwardly and then swiveled around to Ink. “do they have to be here?”

Ink rolled his eyelights. “Yes, it's a thing.”

“Like how Dream bursting into flames and turning into some eldritch angel for a bit was a thing?”

Ink didn't even have to reply.

“Of course it is,” he sighed. He turned back around. “Anyway!” The increase in volume made the three flinch, but Blue didn't seem to notice. “Welcome to the hub! This is a place of refuge for people who’s universes have been destroyed or sucked badly, et cetera, et cetera, don't kill anyone here and you'll be provided a home along with food and water, probably.”

They were all disoriented by this change of pace. So they really were just going to live somewhere completely different now. Said somewhere being populated with many other people.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Horror looked uncertain while Dust looked uncomfortable. Killer, on the other hand, looked elated.

“guys this means we're free. we’re free from nightmare!” he realized. “you're not gonna torture us, are you?” he asked Blue.

“Oh god no,” he replied, sounding repulsed.

Killer pumped his fist in the air as if that was a plus instead of the bare minimum.

Blue looked to the side awkwardly. “So then, Ink here will find you guys a place to stay and if you have any questions you can ask me, or Cross and Chara. Those two are the ones who founded the place after all, but they aren't here right now, unfortunately.”

“where can we get some food?” Killer asked. Hunger decided to hit him now and it was likely Dust and Horror were hungry too. None of them got to eat breakfast, to his knowledge.

“Oh, there's a Grillby’s—”

“anything but a grillby’s?” he sounded a bit desperate asking that.

“I gotcha covered!” Ink chimed in, nudging Blue aside. “I can get you guys whatever you want. I’ll get you guys a room first. Follow me.” He walked off towards the buildings in the distance.

There were a lot of other people around the area. A good amount were also skeletons. For the most part, they’d mind their own business, only glancing at them from time to time as they followed Ink.

Dust avoided looking at everyone, especially trying to make himself look small when nearing a Papyrus.

At one point Horror came to a sudden halt with a horrified expression.

There was an Undyne and Alphys, the two clearly together, nearby.

“what? you hate love or something?” Killer snickered.

Horror pulled his tattered hood on. “don't joke with me right now, killer,” he grumbled.

Killer went quiet and kept his head down. He hoped they were almost there. He kept looking at the buildings as they walked along trying to find one that looked remotely like the place they would stay. He realized that, while Horror and Dust seemed bothered by seeing different versions of people they knew, he saw all of these guys as mere strangers. Try as he might, when he sees a Papyrus he doesn't feel anything and can only go off of vague memories to know that he should be feeling something more.

He hesitated to kill his Papyrus. Why did he look at these other versions of him and feel nothing towards them?

He remembered when Nightmare brought a Papyrus to the castle and when they hugged. He didn't feel that much back then either, but he chalked that up to his soul being on the fritz.

“We're here!” Ink finally said. “Well, this is where Horror’ll stay—if you guys want to be separate, that is.”

The building they were in front of looked like an actual house rather than an apartment.

“how the hell do you know my name?”

“Your brother told me, duh,” Ink said as if he should’ve known already.

“my brother?! is he here?” Horror questioned. He looked like he’d strangle Ink if he was joking with him.

Ink pointed to the building with his thumb. “He’s living in there with a few others from your world. I think he's in there right now.”

Horror approached the door and knocked.

“Who’s there?”

That was Toriel’s voice.

“amish,” he answered.

“Amish who?”

“I missed you too.”

Toriel laughed, thankfully. He was pretty rusty on his knock knock jokes. He wasn't sure that one would land.

The door opened a few seconds later.

Toriel looked healthier and less burdened. Her fur was well taken care of rather than matted like it was the last time he saw her. She also had new robes that were much more vibrant in color. She smiled fondly at him. “Hello, Sans.”

He couldn't believe this was real. “heya, toriel.”

He heard a stampede coming from behind her as the whole gang from Grillby’s went up to the door. A chorus of “Sans!” rang out.

“‘sup, guys?” He was surprised to see that all of them were staying in the house.

Many of them were saying things like “we thought you died” and “where the hell have you been?”.

Everyone looked a lot livelier.

Papyrus managed to push himself out from the crowd, Toriel stepping aside to let him get closer to his brother.

Papyrus looked more like his old self. There weren't any more blood stains on him, but his teeth were still crooked. His outfit was completely different. He was wearing what appeared to be a red-orange knitted sweater with the text “Cool Dude” embroidered in white in the middle of it. His jagged neck was exposed without his cape on.

Soon enough, Sans was off the ground and lifted into the air by Papyrus as he brought him into a tight hug. “I KNEW I’D SEE YOU AGAIN!” he said excitedly.

“missed you too, bro. i hope you weren't too bonely without me.”

Papyrus let out a sob at his joke, but not in annoyance but rather joy.

“you good?”

“I MISSED YOUR PUNS,” he admitted. “IT WASN’T THE SAME WHEN TORIEL WOULD MAKE THEM.”

“you dead serious? of corpse toriel can't hold a candle to me, she’s just not as humerus. no body’s funnier than a skeleton like me.”

Toriel snickered at his rapid-fire jokes.

“AND IT’S WORN OFF! I NO LONGER MISS THEM,” he said lightheartedly. He set Sans down carefully. “WOWIE, YOUR CLOTHES SURE ARE…SOMETHING.”

Right, he practically was dressed in tattered rags.

“I THINK I HAVE SOME OF YOUR CLOTHES PACKED IN MY ROOM. DOGARESSA SAID I WAS OVER PACKING BUT I KNEW I WAS RIGHT TO BRING THEM!” he raised his voice even louder as he mentioned Dogaressa. “COME INSIDE, I’LL SHOW YOU OUR ROOM!” Papyrus walked back inside the house eagerly. 

Sans smiled but paused before taking a step in. He looked back to Dust and Killer, who were watching his reunion.

“Are those friends of yours?” Toriel asked.

Friends. He doesn't think any of them have called each other a friend before.

“uh, yeah,” he said quietly.

“Why not introduce them to us?” she suggested.

He never thought about the possibility of introducing Killer and Dust to them. He wasn't sure how something like that would go. Their names themselves would be off-putting. He motioned for them to come over.

They looked hesitant, as if they weren't sure if he really did want them to come over. Eventually, they bit the bullet and started walking over.

“Hello there,” Toriel greeted. “I take it, you two are friends of Sans?”

Man, they've killed different versions of everyone inside that house, Killer thought awkwardly. “yup, the name’s killer.”

She seemed to be more concerned with his odd soul than his name. To her credit, she didn't question either. “My name is Toriel, it is nice to meet you.” She looked at Dust, who was probably sweating bullets underneath his hood. “And you are?”

Dust kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze downward as if the ground was very interesting.

“oh uh, he doesn't talk. we call him…” Killer desperately tried to think of any other name to call him that didn’t literally mean corpse. “dusk.”

“It is nice to meet you as well, Dusk.”

“Nice of you guys to get acquainted,” Ink said, appearing behind the two skeletons. “Now if you don't mind, you two, we gotta get a move on. I’m a busy skeleton.”

“right, we’ll see you around,” Killer said. “bye, h—sans.”

Sans waved goodbye and went inside the house after his brother.

“Farewell,” Toriel said and then closed the door.

Ink led them to a hotel building a few blocks away from the house. The walk was quiet and lackluster.

That is, until Killer realized something. “hang on.”

“Hm?”

“you said horror’s brother told you his name.”

“Yup!” he confirmed.

“Horror’s brother doesn't know he's called that.”

Ink looked like he was caught robbing a bank, and then he laughed it off. “Wow, it took you that long to notice that? Anyway,” he gestured to the hotel, “this is where you two will be staying.”

“don’t just change topics—”

“I don't have time to explain to you who I am and how I know literally everything about you. Like how you're gonna ask me if you're gonna share a room with Dusk and then you'll get sad when I tell you ‘well I did have two rooms prepared’ and then stupidly happy when I say ‘but if you want you guys can share a room’.”

Killer looked mortified. What the hell was this guy’s deal? Could he see the future?

Ink handed him a key. “Anyway, here's your room key, it's on the second floor. Yes there's two beds but I doubt you need the extra one—”

“hey.”

“Have fun.” His scarf painted a hole in the ground and he jumped into it.

Killer sighed, inspecting the key in his hand. It had the room number on it, fortunately. “c’mon, man,” he said to Dust.

The two of them walked into the hotel, which thankfully didn't have anyone in the lobby at the moment. They were able to get in their room without any interruptions.

The moment Killer locked the door shut, Dust threw himself onto one of the beds with a sigh.

“how you holding up, dust?”

“don't call me that,” he muttered angrily.

“oh.” He went over to sit on the other bed, proving Ink wrong. “so is ‘dusk’ fine?”

He didn't protest, so he assumed it was a yes. It was funny, they hardly sounded different. In fact, Killer came up with that name because it sounded similar.

Was it because of the meaning behind the words or because of the person who gave him the name that made the difference? Killer knew it was more likely to be the former.

Dusk laid on the bed lifelessly, as if he was an actual dead skeleton.

Killer couldn't blame him. The only reason he wasn't breaking down was because someone else was in the room, and he was getting tired of all this emotional turmoil.

He heard a knock at the door. “i’m going to stab whoever's outside if you don't make like a tree and fuck off,” he threatened.

“Geez! I just brought you guys some food. It's lumpia. I’ll leave it at the door,” that sounded like Blue.

Killer waited a bit until he got up to open the door. There was a bag of takeout on the ground. He picked it up and shut the door, locking it again.

Inside the containers was a food he didn't recognize. thank god, he would've snapped if it was Grillby’s. He left one of the containers on Dusk’s bedside counter.

He ate like a starving animal, pleased to find out that the “lumpia”, as Blue called it, was pretty good. Honestly, he’d eat literal dirt but that didn't stop him from appreciating well-cooked food.

He heard Dusk sit up and grab the container on his bedside counter.

They ate in silence for a bit.

“i’m glad you're not dead,” Dusk said eventually.

Killer snickered, “me too.” He realized how that came out. “i’m also glad that you're alive, i mean.”

He saw him smiling underneath his hood.

“i dunno if my cats are okay, though. even if he doesn't hurt them directly…who's gonna take care of them?” His smile faltered.

Dusk put the container back and got up to sit next to him. He thought of what to say. He wasn’t that good at comforting people in the past and he definitely wasn’t good at it now. “they were strays, right? they’ll probably be able to fend for themselves.”

“god, i hope so.” That wasn’t even taking into account the possibility that Nightmare himself will hurt them. Killer supposed he never explicitly said he killed anyone, and the other two turned out to be fine, but that didn’t stop him from fearing the worst.

He felt Dusk’s arm awkwardly wrap around him. Instinctively he turned to hug him back.

Maybe they’ll end up okay.

[buggyboba]

kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖

↳ ▣ | hiii besties, so in my mind this is a whole three-part thing, oops. a prologue, this, then an epilogue. I mean that is if people want it, or just enjoy it as its own thing! This is a request that took on a life of its own in my head, just like one of the other requests did, so there is that. we are also trying a few new post set up styles, so do we like this? or is it more like Buggy shut up and write vibes?

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | Missy x Reader

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪

↳ ▣ | Anon asked | I would like to please request a Missy x reader (I'm not sure if you have seen the Agent Carter show but if you haven't I'll let you know why I asked. One of the gadgets that Peggy has is a lipstick, which when she kisses someone that person falls asleep.) Where the reader has been separated from the Doctor and comes across missy but doesn't know who she is and so when the time comes for missy to escape she wants to take the reader with her so she uses that same idea with the lipstick to make the reader sleep so they can capture the reader and leave their real identity as a surprise.

So this is in which Missy kidnaps reader using a sleeping toxin.

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | no real tws, Missy being Missy.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥

↳ ▣ | 3500

𝔸𝕠𝟛 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜

↳ ▣ | x

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

This place gave you the proper creeps; you almost clung to Clara as you walked past a vat with a skeleton in it. The three W's—that’s where the Tardis brought them to find Danny. Oh Danny, Clara had gone through lengths, You understood her grief, and you were grateful for The Doctor's grace because the events that happened just a few moments ago were startling, but you couldn't say you blamed her. She loved Danny. Well, it felt like she loved him anyway; she certainly cared for him deeply. She didn't deserve his untimely death; you wanted your friend to be happy; she deserved to be happy. This felt very private—it should have been private—between her and The Doctor; you just happened to be there. Well, that made you sound like you were a stray that showed up; you had been a companion for a while now, off and on, but you saw three of his faces now, the lanky brown-haired one, that said 'Allonsy'; he was the one you met in the beginning. The very next adventure you went on had been not great, but the more you tried to think about it, the less you could understand of it, like there was a large part torn from your memory, but he wouldn’t tell you what it was, and it was probably for the best. Then there was the bow-tie-wearing one; he was tired but pretended to be fine; he had anger; sometimes it scared you, but he was still The Doctor, your Doctor. During this time, you started to be an off-and-on companion. This new face was grouchy and started to reflect the years he carried with him, one that had the same burdens: lonely, scared to lose those who he cared about.

You were the last to step out of the tardis; the stonework was impressive, but the air was cold. You wrapped your jacket tighter around you as you followed after Clara and The Doctor. Things felt tense and odd, but you chose to use the 'seen not heard’ method right now. Clara was hurting, and people did things they normally wouldn’t when they were grieving, but her whole ‘throwing the keys into a volcano’ thing. Then again, the doctor did tell her he was exactly what she deserved; you wondered what that meant but chose not to question it right now; it wasn’t the right time. 

As you walked, your eyes caught on each and every skeleton you passed. You were beginning to worry you would find his skeleton in a vat; what would that do to Clara? Clara could handle it, you were sure, but that didn't mean she should handle it. Grief was an odd thing. Your mind went back to the skeletons. How many were there? This was a horror show waiting to happen. Your shoes scuffed against the floor as you tried to be as close to Clara and the Doctor as you possibly could be, nearly running into the Doctor’s back when he stopped. A female voice spoke, and you assumed it was a recording. A bright logo with 3W was proudly shown.

“3W. Death is not an end. But we can help with that. Ever since 3W encountered the truth about the death experience, we have been working hard to find a better life for the deceased. At 3W, afterlife means aftercare.” The voice spoke in an oddly comforting tone. 

Clara shifted “Okay. Bit strange?” She spoke, and you shrugged. 

“Automated message maybe?” You voiced, your eyes on the skeleton behind you; you swore you saw it move, but that couldn't be right; it was just probably the water in the tank. You stared at it a few more moments than needed to make sure it was just your imagination.

“No, why have the scrolling and a voice? Is it difficult?” He asked like he knew something they didn’t. Both Clara and you looked at him, but Clara spoke first.

“Is what difficult?” She asked, and you nodded, seeing what he was going to say. 

“Reading all those words back to front. Come on. We've come a long way.” He said to the logo projection. A woman walked out through the logo, which disappeared. She was taller than you, wearing a deep purple Victorian-style dress, very much like a governess would wear, and a hat with decorative red berries placed carefully on her head. Her eyes trailed over you in a sort of calculating look, like you were a surprise addition, but it smoothed over, and she looked over to the doctor, assessing him.

“Well, there is, er, no immediate hurry. We're just, er. We're just–” The Doctor struggled to find the words; his mind was racing, trying to place this woman. Her eyes returned to looking at him. Oh, how fun this was and would be for her. 

“Hello. I hope you're well. How may I assist you with your death?” The woman said she was looking between the three of you. You almost choked at the words and gave a nervous sort of giggle snort. A nervous tick—you couldn't recall how many times you ended up nervously laughing at the worst times. You couldn’t help it. When you felt threatened, you laughed that nervous laugh. You shifted and covered your mouth, looking down, trying to calm your nerves. This didn’t feel good. The woman's eyes flinted back to you; something that resembled a smirk tugged at her lips, as if she were remembering something and taking pleasure in your nervous tick.

“Browsing.” Clara quickly said, and you nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, yeah, browsing.” The Doctor said, watching the woman with unease. The look made you uneasy too; if The Doctor was nervous, you knew you needed to be too. You shifted and watched the woman carefully; something felt off. Then again, the bones lurking in the tanks probably weren’t helping. 

“Please, take all the time you need. At 3W, you always have the rest of your life.” She chimed, looking between the three of you.

“Oh, good. That's good to know, isn't it?” He cast a look to You and Clara, who also exchanged looks. "This whole thing felt bad, but you just couldn’t place it; you weren’t scared of death or the afterlife, but something about this made every red flag in your mind go off.

“Yeah. Great.” Clara murmured, and you stayed silent. This energy felt familiar, like you had felt it before, but the more you tried to grasp at straws to figure it out, the further away it felt, something was definitely wrong. 

“Exactly what is 3W?” The Doctor asked, asking the necessary question. 

“Apologies. Clearly, you have not received the official 3W greetings package.” The woman said in a tsk.

“Well, you know, it's just an unexpected." The woman cut him off, lunging at him, her hands wrapped into the lapels of his jacket. She walked it back against the wall with her body, staying pressed against him. Her lips pressed against his, her tongue pressed into his mouth. The Doctor’s features flashed in shock and maybe perhaps a bit of fear. She pulled back, kissing the tip of his nose three times. She stepped back, giving him space.

“Welcome to the 3W Institute.” She grinned.

“Clara, is it over now?” The Doctor asked, his tone breathless as his hands stayed sprawled against the wall behind him, trying to mentally work through the event that just happened. You watched and lifted your hand to your mouth, partly in shock, partly trying not to laugh about his expression, though it was very clear he was uncomfortable, and that shouldn’t be funny. But there was something about this usually stoic man being thrown off, though you were sure you would feel the same if someone randomly kissed you.

“I think it's over, yeah.” Clara nodded, watching the woman intently. The woman looked at her, her blue eyes scanning over her, as if thinking of something.

“You also have not received the official welcome package.” She took a step towards her, and Clara quickly put her hands up and stepped back, shaking her head. “Oh, I'm good, thanks. No worries."

Then the woman turned to you and stalked closer; that was the right word for it because it felt like a panther stalking its prey. “You haven't received it either.” She gave a slight pout, and you quickly shook your head and backed up a bit, but she followed, her hands on your arms, her eyes locked on you; she got you against the wall, pressing against you as she looked at your lips leaning in before the doctor cleared his throat. The woman's face flashed with annoyance for a brief, blink and you miss it, moment. She slowly turned her face to face him, not moving from you. 

“Who are you?” He asked firmly. She smiled a little ‘she knew something he didn't’ smile. 

“I am Missy.” She said simply, finally stepping away from you. You exhaled your breath, one you hadn’t even realized you were holding. 

“Missy?” Clara asked. Your eyes were still locked on the woman, and your heart was thumping rapidly against your chest. 

“Mobile Intelligent Systems Interface. I am a multi-function, interactive welcome-droid. Helping you to help me to help you.” She playfully looked between the three of you. A welcome droid? No, she certainly felt real, and then again, you had met some very realistic robots in your time with The Doctor. 

“You're very– er– realistic.” The Doctor said. Did he catch on to that too? 

“Tongues?” Clara asked, masking a bit of a smirk.

“Shut up.” The Doctor muttered and shook his head, still uncomfortable about Missy’s actions. 

“I am fully programmed with social interaction norms appropriate to a range of visitors. Please indicate if you'd like me to adjust my intimacy setting.” Missy said, looking at him as he finally stepped away from the wall, before her eyes trailed back to you, looking you over in a way that felt not very robotic.

Missy scoffed and slighted her accent, putting her hands on her hips. “I am in charge.” 

“Oh, yes, please. Please do that. Do that now right now.” He said quickly, You also took a sort of sidestep back closer to Clara and The Doctor. “I need to speak to whoever's in charge here.” He said, clearly back on his game, trying to get to the bottom of this. 

“Well, who's in charge of you?” He asked quickly.

“I'm in charge of me!” She said, looking at him, saying it like it was apparent and he was being silly. 

“Well, who repairs you? Who, who maintains you?” He said he was getting tired of this game. 

“I am programmed for self-repair. I am maintained by my heart.” She said her hand was slipping down to grab his, lifting it to her chest and pressing his palm against it. “Is everything in order?” She locked eyes with him. You shifted; this felt too oddly intimate. Like this was someone who knew the doctor—the way the woman acted, the look the Doctor gave as his hand was on her chest. 

“Who maintains your heart?” He breathed out. His eyes locked with hers.  

“My heart is maintained by the Doctor.” She said it almost sweetly. This was getting too odd, and too quickly, the body language of both Missy and The Doctor worried you.

“Doctor who?” He asked, his voice tinged in something akin to nerves, which made you feel quite nervous again. 

There was a moment of silence before the woman yelled “Doctor Chang!” before she walked away from The Doctor, disappearing around the corner. 

“Who's there?” A man appeared quickly from a room, moving to walk over to them. “Hello?” he asked. 

“Hello.” Clara greeted, and you gave a weak sort of wave. You tried to push the feeling of danger down as you looked at the unassuming man. He was a stark difference from the welcome droid.

“Hello.” The Doctor muttered again; he seemed to be in a deep thought, his hand still in the air where Missy had been.

“You can probably take your hand down now, Doctor,” Clara said, and the Doctor slowly lowered his hand.

“So. Hey. Condolences.” The presumed Doctor Chang said, looking at the three of you. You blinked, but it was a nice sentiment, you thought anyway.

“Condolences?” Clara asked, looking at the man in confusion.

“It's a mausoleum. It's our hello. Is there a particular dead person you want to talk to?” He asked, trying to move the conversation along.

“Yes. Yes, there is.” Clara said quickly. Doctor Chang motioned, and then you all started to follow him, though you hung back. This felt like it should be a private moment for Clara; Danny is, er well, Danny was important to her. You knew if you were speaking to a dead loved one, you would want privacy. So as The Doctor and Clara vanished into the room, you decided to take a quick look around; if it was really a mausoleum, there wasn’t any reason for concern, right? You walked along the quiet hall; the soft sound of the bubbling water from the tanks provided very little ambiance to calm your nerves. Things still felt off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

The skeletons felt like they were staring at you, but that couldn’t be right; it was just your nerves; at least that’s what you told yourself as you walked looking at the nameplates of the skeletons. It was wild to you that people would do this—to become glorified aquarium decorations. You imagined all the people who paid to spend the rest of their eternity in these vats; of course, this was no different from people being cremated or buried; it was just another method of burial, right? There were all sorts of new wave burial methods; you didn’t know about hanging out in a chair in water for the rest of time, though. You wondered how they kept the stability of the bones; if they cleaned the water, what was in the water to preserve the bones? 

You were so deep in thought you didn’t even hear the click of her heels, but you felt the air shift; it was colder, and suddenly there was a presence beside you. You turned and jumped nearly out of your skin. It was Missy. Her eyes scanned over you like a cat that had caught a mouse, and that didn’t feel great. 

“Have you turned your settings down?” You asked, eyeing her, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. There was no way you should be this jumpy; you had to get it together. You faced way worse than a building full of spooky water skeletons and an off-putting welcome droid.

“What?” She paused looking at you before it seemed she realized something. “Oh right…yes…sure…” she shook her head a bit, chuckling a little bit to herself like there was a joke you missed.

“Not going to try and French me?” You asked, eyeing her. You shifted a bit, putting your hands in your jacket pockets as you watched her. Taking in her features, you wondered who she was modeled after; being a droid, with her high cheekbones, her pale skin, and those mesmerizing blue eyes, a lot of care went into making her. 

“Oh, maybe… I haven’t decided if I want to give you a second chance after you so rudely denied me.” She waved you off. “Wonderful, aren’t they?" She tapped the glass with her nails, transfixed by the skeleton for a moment before she looked at you, tilting her head. 

“You don’t act like a droid... I mean, then again, I wouldn’t know... but you felt  too...human." You decided; she scoffed and let out an annoyed snort.

“Human? Don’t be a bitch.” She shook her head, offended. “As if I were, you humans are too messy, too emotional, too weak.” She waved you off again. Your eyes narrowed, but you shrugged. Droids shouldn’t have that strong of an opinion, right? Or was that insensitive? Droids were AI, and AI could learn to feel right? You certainly didn’t want to anger the woman by thinking things like that. However, her reaction felt too ‘human’ like too. She must have some impressive AI, but something about that thought felt weird. 

“So Skeletons, in fish tanks, one hell of a way to spend eternity, don’t you think?” You said, looking back at the tanks, as you felt her walk around your back to your other side, sizing you up. You felt a familiar tug at you, like some of her mannerisms were familiar but you couldn’t place them, or you didn’t want to place them.

“Oh, it's worse." She shrugged, letting her fingers trace across your shoulder with a devilish grin, as she watched your pulse quicken the vein in your neck, giving the steadily increasing beats away.

“Don’t you mean it could be worse?” You asked, looking at her. The way she said that, that it wasn’t just an eternity, that it was something worse, your expression twisted to that of uncertainty. 

“Is that not what I said?” She gave you a grin that made your stomach tighten. “But don’t worry, poppet.” She gave a mock reassuring nod, patting your arm lightly. “It’s not your fate, and that should be a comfort.” You didn’t like what she was saying; something was wrong with this welcome droid; that definitely didn’t feel like a droid. 

“What do you mean, Missy?” You asked, turning to face her more. 

“Put two and two together, dear. I know he picks them pretty, but one of you is bound to be smart.” She muttered.

You made a face and shook your head, looking at her, trying to figure out what she meant. It was clear to you she absolutely wasn't what she said she was. Missy studied you and then looked so offended. “He didn't!!” She scoffed. “I worked so hard on you for a year! A year of twisting and manipulating.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course he would go and ruin it; he usually doesn't mess with memories. Oh my dear, did I ruin you that badly? How cute.” She mused and tilted her head. She withdrew her lipstick out with a flourish and lazily applied it to her lips, in a show watching you intently. She popped her lips and hummed, putting the lipstick away.

“What are you talking about?” You took a step back, but she caught your wrist, pulling you back towards her. Gripping your wrist, she pulled hard; your chest collided with hers, and she grinned. “Oh, poppet. I am going to have a blast with you; I get to chip away at you all over again. His fault really for keeping you, but maybe this time he will learn. Doubtful, he really never does, does he?” She sighed and leaned closer to you. “Do you want to know a secret?” She mock whispered like it was a conspiracy. 

You shifted and tried to get a read on her; she wrapped her arm around your waist, keeping you pinned to her. “All these silly little skeletons are really cybermen, and soon all the graveyards are going to open, and an army will walk.” She grinned and nodded. “And the human race will be nothing more than a footnote." She mused a bit. “He will see that we aren’t so different... and he will be delighted that I didn’t kill you...” She mused watching your expressions change. "Oh, don’t try to think about it too much, love; it's not worth it. All you need to know is that you and I will have a great time together, better than last time, I promise.” She nodded. “Oh! Can you keep another secret, just a silly little girl secret between us girls?” She grinned, grabbed your jaw, and tilted your face up. She bore a large, sharp grin and nodded, waiting for your response. “Oh! Don't give me the silent treatment now, Bunny.” She mock tsked and let her hand slide to hold the back of your neck. 

“Yeah, sure. " You muttered quickly, trying to think of an exit plan. You had to get back to the doctor. 

“The doctor isn't going to save you this time." She nodded again and suddenly crashed her lips against yours. There was the taste of an unknown chemical, rose and tea. As she held you in the kiss, something felt wrong. You tried to push away, but her hands were tight around you, you felt your body get heavy, and you were drowsy, trying to fight whatever chemical she introduced to your system. She pulled back, frowning at you. “What a tough little bird you are,” she mused. “Oh well, a kidnapping is a kidnapping.” She grinned and wrapped her arm around your waist, moving to pull you with her but grumbling about how you were dead weight before moving to lift you over her shoulder, heading further into the mausoleum away from the doctor, away from Clara, away from safety. Your last thought before you succumbed to the sleeping toxin was, ‘Who the fuck is this woman?’ 

Taglist |

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[stromuprisahat]

I've been reading a lot of criticism about Alina lately, and while I agree that she is a shitty protagonist, but the main problem I have with saying that she is the true villain of the story is that... no one told her? No one talked to her about Grisha persecution? Yeah, we hear about it vaguely in TGT, but it isn't until SoC when they find the burnt corpses and the kefta mural that it truly starts to sink in. It's not until you read DitW that you realize how desperate the situation was (and still is, in some ways). It's not until the Nikolai Duology that the true horror of the Shu experiments is brought to us. We see nothing of it in TGT, so maybe... Alina just doesn't know?

Yeah, sure, she has been around Grisha and is one of them now, but hear me out, it's like white people who say they don't have a problem with POC but they don't realize that it doesn't negate the fact that POC still face racism from others. Add to the fact that nowhere do we see newspapers and as an orphan Alina is definitely less aware of social justice situations than your average white guy- how is she supposed to know? All that she sees is the luxury of the Grisha- their tents their bulletproof clothes, etc.

Just a thought about how the story might have gone different if instead of the crows, it was Alina who found the three burnt bodies while chasing the stag and had to put one of them out of their misery. And how the story might have changed if Alina truly understood the situation.

I'm almost halfway through Siege and Storm, so I’ll talk from this perspective.

I’d say it’s the same issue as anything with Alina- she doesn’t want to know.

She’s almost murdered by a guy yelling “witch” in her face. Funnily enough- at this point it’s still in English (Ravkan), not drüsje, but witch:

I twisted and kicked as the yellow-bearded man grabbed hold of my legs. I looked desperately down to the glen, but the soldiers and Grisha below me were fighting for their lives, clearly outnumbered and unable to come to my aid. I struggled and thrashed, but the Fjerdan was too strong. He climbed on top of me, using his knees to pin my arms to my sides, and reached for his knife.

“I’ll gut you right here, witch,” he snarled in a heavy Fjerdan accent.

She gets safely to Little Palace, mentiones this whole experience twice and that’s it. It wouldn’t even take that much to get back to this topic- next chapter she learns such attack isn’t anything unusual for Grisha:

“ ... Other countries don’t treat their Grisha so well as Ravka,” he said grimly. “The Fjerdans burn us as witches, and the Kerch sell us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up seeking the source of our power. ... ”

Alina sees there’s a difference made between Grisha and other Ravkans, but never connects the dots. It doesn’t concern her, she’s doing the same after all.

She isn’t interested in situation, not only the wide picture, but more personal perspective- we don’t see her ask her “not-friends” anything about them. Their lives, families... You won’t hear a scary story if you won’t ask or listen...

She got study materials on Grisha history, but that's just that. Words on a paper. Something she repeats when she remembers she's supposed to be hunted, although the reasons don't quite click.

She goes from being prejudiced herself to staying that way. Why would she change? She went from denying being Grisha to being Saint and that’s a completely different thing. The only person she truly cares about is an otkazat’sya, so why would she consider wrongness of slurs and disdain?

She was told, but the Darkling "never tells the truth" and she doesn’t feel the need to ask anyone else.

She hears First Army soldiers insult Ivan for refusing to share information with them, and doesn't blink an eye.

She hears about First Army slaughtering Grisha, and thinks "good, I'd do the same".

She only cares about Grisha being potentially mistreated as long as it's the Darkling harming them (Genya's punishment, Grishenka in R&R).

When forced to face other harm partially caused by Grisha status of slaves in Ravkan society, the circumstances allow her to ignore that aspect (Genya's abuse).

I don’t think she needs anything more explicit. She’d just find the way to blame the Darkling, or forget it ever happened as soon as it was out of her sight.

Burned Grisha corpses?

Some foreign tradition. Or barbecue gone wrong...

Just look at her reaction to Harshaw's story in R&R:

I thought of the dream the Darkling had once had, that we might be Ravkans and not just Grisha. He’d tried to make a safe place for our kind, maybe the only one in the world. I understand the desire to remain free. Was that why Harshaw kept fighting? Why he’d chosen to stay? He must have shared the Darkling’s dream once. Had he given its care over to me?

Zoya's the one, to note how fucked up it is. Alina's concern is possible responsibility. There's no horror, there's no resolution to take over Aleksander's efforts. The goal remains the same- hunt down the Firebird, kill the Darkling, destroy the Fold.

Even when talking as Grisha, Alina doesn't act like one.

[mohntilyet]

bats eyelashes do you have any resources on tyche’s backstory. if not would you like to talk about her <3 anything about her in fact <3 i love her so and i especially love her with lucanis even though i know she is going through the horrors tm as soon as veilgaurd ends and she has to deal with his whole crow family. feel free to talk about her emotions over that whole ordeal too because I’m very interested in it and I like your thoughts about how it would down!! just shaking my cup at you atp spare tyche pls. much love!!

tyche is. yeah. “i’m the only normal person here” is a thought she has had multiple times throughout this game and it’s only true to an extent. because everyone else around her just leads very intense lives. a woman who thinks the only way out is through but instead of finding a path out she thinks she can just chainsaw her way out of the hedge maze if it gets her to her destination faster. chronically unable to say “i love you” and avoids getting attached. this whole thing was meant to parallel solas a little and the talk they have in the fade where she’s like “…was there nobody in the inquisition you care about” is almost desperate. solas picks up on that like it’s a surprise tool that will him him later

(rest under the cut because i literally just keep going sorry anon)

particularly, a big thing for her is her family, her life in rivain, and how she spends most of this game tearing herself up about it and refusing to get them involved in this ‘saving the world’ bullshit she’s doing. woman who writes to her mother and says “everything is fine. this is the easiest job i’ve ever done. the elven gods are stupid as fuck btw” and the letter is about weisshaupt LOL .. one of the craziest things in vg for me was finding out just how many personal quests involved the companion’s families, because the more she saw her friends lose the more it solidified this idea in her mind that she has done the right thing by isolating her family. she’s usually very direct but this is the one thing she’s very touchy about.

the ‘tevinter slave’ thing that a lord of fortune rook mentions to me is a full out lie told by tyche so no one goes digging into her business. she originally went into this thinking “they less we know about each other, the better. i have a life to get back to after this” and then fails miserably at trying to stay detached and finds herself really liking everyone AND fully inserts herself into their business. she can’t just hear things like “my brother is being manipulated” “my mom doesn’t care about me” “my grandmother is gone” “my baby skeleton son who has done no wrong” “the dwarves need us” “i have to save the griffons. the identity crisis doesn’t matter so much” “i love my hometown and i can’t save it” etc etc and not desperately want to do something to help

sort of meta wise as well because people have critiqued how it’s always rook helping, but not the companions asking rook if they need anything. not to me. not if that was on purpose. a kind of, “i can fix this, and then we can all go home. because that’s what i want, of course. nevermind how these guys have changed my life. i’m sure the hole in my heart doesn’t mean anything”. AND its HEAVY on the lucanis romance. every moment she spends with him, the worse she falls in love, and the more she’s convinced there’s nothing but tragedy to come when he leaves her for the crows. the nuclear level fallout that almost occurs when lucanis says he’ll stay with her as long as he can hold off the crows is so bad. she takes her own duties so seriously and doesn’t expect herself to be what changes things, for anyone. not even necessarily because of low self esteem, but that she is the most pragmatic woman alive, and to a fault <3

you can imagine the weeks when she’s trapped in the fade prison when her family actually shows up like “minrathous just got nuked and my daughter is nowhere to be seen. something has to be wrong. what the fuck happened” and everyone gets about a month to come to terms with the fact that tyche has lied for the better part of a year (not sure about veilguard timeline. i think its minimum 4 months) and unfortunately have to find out a lot more about her through her siblings, and get to stew on that information for a while. i picture awkward conversations and maybe some bickering, and it’s lucanis who is like “well right now she’s dead. so can we focus on getting her back so we can actually talk with her?” <- man who bared his whole life to her and found out she didn’t do the same. i love self sabotage. i think they have a very long talk when she gets back, and the last minute sex has to be shifted a bit in my mind to make some room for what tyche assumes will be a break up speech that turns into a declaration of love and patience. this rewires her brain

aaand the crow stuff (sorry it has taken so long to get here) makes more sense to everyone and how tyche has reacted when they see how much of a unit her family is. tyche can’t picture the kind of betrayal and fighting because she has never experienced it. there’s probably some longing from lucanis here (🌀🌀 oooh you wanna leave your fucked up home sooo bad 🌀🌀) . illario in particular to her is absolutely unthinkable, and despite my adoration for him, tyche hates his guts <3 she also is very close with her grandma and doesn't at all understand caterina, but she's also primed to expect the best from family and it doesn't totally compute what caterina has done until lucanis (or illario. the angst potentials of it coming from illario compel me) actually spells it out for her and then the family dinners get REALLY bad

[bowie-starss]

mungrove prompt. eddie and billy cuddling on a rainy night in the munson trailer watching a horror movie <3 🥺

Billy is just a wet cat of a man. A cat left in the rain and Eddie has the towels for him

Lately, Eddie found himself staying up later and later into the night with no sign of sleep. His record was 5 am before promptly passing out for an hour until his alarm went off.

It seemed Eddie wasn’t the only one struggling this way. 

The rain had started early that evening and only got worse as the night went on. It was pouring, drowning out the sound of a car pulling up to the Munson trailer. Eddie was startled out of his half-asleep daze on the couch by rapid knocking on the front door. Apparently, he was taking too long to answer because the knocking just would not let up.

Eddie clicked off the TV- he hadn’t been watching it anyway- and peaked out of the blinds for a hint at whoever could be at the door at this hour. 

A deep blue Chevy Camaro sat just in front of Eddie’s trailer, and there was only one person in Hawkins who owned a Camaro that color. There was only one person who owned a Camaro at all. 

Oh, Billy. 

Billy was no stranger to showing up at Eddie’s unannounced as they didn’t have a good way to communicate yet, but he typically didn’t do it at- what was it now? 2 a.m? Whatever it was, Billy was not the type to show up then.

Eddie opened the front door to exactly what he expected at this point: Billy drenched in rain water. How long had he been standing there while Eddie fought for sleep on the couch?

“You look ridiculous,” Eddie blurted as he pulled Billy inside. The blonde stayed uncharacteristically quiet. “Stay here.” As if Billy had any plans of moving. “I’ll get some towels. And clothes.” Eddie was gone for a blink, returning with an excessive amount of towels and a set of pajamas he knew Billy liked.

All of the items were set aside except for one towel Eddie wrapped around Billy. “Bad day, huh?” Eddie asked, smiling sadly. Billy didn’t need to respond verbally. He sighed and buried his face into the towel, and that was enough to describe his day. Eddie nodded. “Yeah, me too,” he said.

After being aggressively rubbed dry and changing in the living room, leaving him looking more or less like a stray cat, Billy was left to sort through Eddie’s movie collection while Eddie hung up the wet clothes in the bathroom. “Cool stuff, huh?” Eddie said as he returned to join Billy on the floor.

Billy wordlessly held up a tape. The Rats Are Coming! The Werewolves Are Here! Point taken. Billy set it aside. “Where do you even find these?”

Eddie shrugged. “When Family Video decides to clean out their shelves they sell all the old and weird stuff no one’s rented for dirt cheap. The other half of the collection is stuff my uncle picked up.” As Billy popped in a horror movie, Eddie asked, “I thought we were trying to sleep?”

“You can.” Billy backed off to the couch. “I’m not.”

That bad of a day that just going to bed was off the table.

Eddie decided not to argue with it. He found himself falling asleep to the weirdest things, so a slasher on screen didn’t matter. He joined Billy on the couch and opened his arms, letting Billy crawl into his spot in them. He dropped his full weight onto Eddie, making the other squeak, before tucking his head in just under Eddie’s chin. Eddie didn’t think the blonde could actually see the screen, but maybe that’s not what he wanted. Maybe he wanted the background noise. Weird choice, but Eddie couldn’t really judge, when he understood it.

Eddie’s hands combed through Billy’s still damp hair and tugged gently at the drier curls. “I guess you’re staying the whole night then, huh?” There was only a ‘mpfh’ from Eddie’s chest, and Eddie chuckled as if it meant something. It did, of course. “Alright, then. You know you’re welcome.”

[bluebellhairpin]

Parallels

Erwin Smith X Reader

Summary: In a modern universe, Erwin dreams of another life. But not for the better. Thankfully, when he wakes you're still here.

Warnings: Nightmares. Brief description of blood and gore/death. Erwin is a little guilty for killing hundreds of people, but mostly about just you.

Masterlist || Ko-fi

Erwin has had reoccurring dreams as long as he'd been alive.

It seemed that as he got older though, that they changed. Really he came to understand that they were less the same thing over and over, but rather all about the same theme.

One of the earliest he could remember involved thick water and turtles printed on sunburnt pages, as a child it scared him as much as it left him in awe. Then he dreamed of his father which a scared look on his face, even though he was starting to only recollect him with the aid of a photograph.

By this point in his life - now much older - he'd gone through even more, but not until now had they really gotten to the point where they scared him.

Sure, he had dreams with you in them before, even before he met you he knew your face and the touch of your hand. But they'd never left him feeling so... betrayed, not by you, but at his own hand.

When it happened, he woke with a start. He was still lying down in bed, sweat - or tears, maybe both - dripped from his forehead to tickle his ears. Visions of you haunted him even though he'd woken up and had barely dared to blink.

He'd thought of the dreams as being a parallel universe, now one he would trade anything to not have to live himself. Filled with death and bones cracking, and lives upon lives being lost. All things considered, he didn't think he did so bad, he was successful in them, as much as they seemed to come from a horror film. But only now did he really see them as bad.

As something not to be proud of, but to see as a warning.

Whatever he'd seen, it was sure it be the last of you in his haunting dreams, and what had him reeling more than the shock of seeing you dying, was remembering the dream he had the night prior.

You, still standing despite being pelted with the force of an explosion of rocks. A look of determination on your face even though half of it had been ripped clean off, one arm limp by your side and dripping blood where your forearm and hand was meant to be, while the other was up and holding a flare gun. A good section of your leg had been blow off, and the rest was stuck under a horse - your horse.

He felt, deep in his heart, that half your determination and anger was directed at him. Not the monstrosity you were facing.

Remembering what caused it. He caused it.

When he'd turned over after waking to find you missing - he'd sat up and searched the room, not understanding where you went. Where you actually gone? Was it not a dream at all, but a memory?

One with Levi, a much hardened version of his old friend, where they talked and Erwin couldn't hear a word they said. He was watching the whole thing from behind a thick pane of glass. Watching as he gave a riveting speech and sent hundreds to their death. Watching as he didn't even look you in the eyes.

That's what haunted him - that somehow he treated you in such an expendable way, as if you weren't worth your own life and everyone he's ever known combined.

His mouth dried up and he felt he'd rather die thay live knowing that's what he did to you. But there you were. The door cracked open, and a slither of light bled into the room.

Holding two mugs in your hand, a newspaper tucked under one arm, with the morning sun leaving as your very own halo. He could still be dreaming.

Your smile gentle, and you delivered one of the mugs and the paper to the table at his side of the bed before leaning over and capturing his lips in a soft kiss - one you must've known he needed, feather-light and fleeting, but solid. Then you disappeared before he could grab you closer to pull the covering of the window open to let more light in.

Watching you take over the part of the morning that was usually his, Erwin finally settled. He relaxed even more after you made your way back under the bedcovers at his side. You finally looked at him and he felt you right in his soul.

"Are you alright?" You'd asked, a hand coming up to cup his cheek and wipe away the wetness. He pressed it closer with his own, turning to kiss you palm, wrist.

I had a bad dream, he could've said. He knew you'd understand. It had happened before, and he felt you knew what was wrong without him even having to say it out loud.

He just pulled your closer. Tucked you under his arm, pressed against his side, head close to his chest and under his chin - that way he could feel you, your weight and warmth. All he wanted was to just feel you, and he did. You let him.

"I love you." Was the only thing he mumbled into your hair, and from the way you held onto the fabric near his waist he knew without you having to say it out loud that you loved him too.

[winniethewife]

You Can’t Always Save Everybody.

(Miguel O’hara x Spidersona!Scarlette Web)

Chapter 8

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Warnings: Violence, description of injurys, blood, death

Words: 1019

This was probably the worst fight that Miguel had seen in a long time. The Mysterio variant had released every single anomaly in the containment area. Causing Chaos across the whole of Nueva York. Every spider person on duty was engaged in battle. A distress call had been sent out across the multiverse, every spider available was fighting in this battle. Several anomalies had been brought back to HQ but it wasn’t nearly all of them. But Miguel was barely focused on that. He hadn’t seen Valentine since the fight broke out. He hadn’t heard from her… and that was unusual and concerning.  

“Lyla, track Valentines position.  I need to find her.” Miguel’s voice was full of worry.

“Right away Miguel.” She chirped. When the coordinates come up, he feels his heart start to sink. Alchemax. He knows damn well what’s going on now. He does’t even take a second to tell the others where he’s going. He swings into action. He can’t move fast enough, He needs to move faster.

~

Valentine was trying her best to keep Mysterio busy. She used every kind of tech she had on hand and she kept fighting, she had to keep fighting.

“Just give me what I need Scarlette, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done something for the wrong side.” Mysterio’s voice echoed through the lab

“Not a chance. I’m not that kind of person any more.” She says as she stands ready to spring into action. It was just her in between him and the vault where all of the research on Multiverse travel is. Where the prototype of the first Gizmo is stored. Where he wants to be. He laughs maniacally.

“You of all people know that’s not how it works. You don’t just flip-flop sides when you feel like it! You’re either good, or evil. And you my dear…you are surely evil. All those people…you couldn’t care less, whatever it took to get his attention right?” He sneered.

“Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” She shouts with anger. How did he know? How did he know about everything? She didn’t know but she wasn’t going to let him win. She won’t let him.

“Oh silly girl. You should know, that I know everything about you. About the Murder, about the device, about your friendships, the ones you love, and most of all, I know about your dead cold husband.” He was getting ever closer, and she was getting angrier.

“Leave.Him.Out.Of.This.” She growls as she takes a half step closer.

“Oh, I see I’ve struck a nerve! How delightful. How charming. How sweet. Still carrying the torch for a man long dead. Its espessialy darling how you keep the love for him alive when, why there’s another Miguel O’hara, Alive, breathing, blood pumping, and he cares for you ever so much…” he taunts and teases. Valentine can’t take much more of it.

“Get his name out of your mouth, you little-”

“Ah, Ah, ah, not so fast. Don’t want to be a bad girl now do we?” and with that she lunges. He dodges her attacks, left and right, shes putting her all into it. When suddenly The window behind her glows red as Miguel slices through.

“Val!” Miguel cries as he spots her.

“Ah there’s lover boy now!”

“Miguel! Get to the vault and take it, I’ve got him!” She looked at him, and even through the mask, He knew she meant it. He went for the vault, hears the fighting continuing behind him. He managed to access the vault grabbing the prototype. He works quickly on the screens to transfer the data back to his personal computer when he hears her scream, an animalistic cry, then cut short. He turns, his blood runs cold. He runs back to the lab, a look of horror on his face as he sees her. Mysterio already gone out the window. And Shes laying in an ever growing pool of her own blood.

“Cariño! No, no, no, no, NO!” Miguel rushes to her side, holding her in his arms as he disengages his mask. “Val, Valentine! Come on…” He pulls off her mask and looks her over, the slashes were jagged and all over, and the long blade of the knife was through her upper stomach.

“M-Miggy…” She coughs and blood stains her lips. “Mig- I…I”

“Shhh…hey, don’t talk, save your energy.” Miguel spoke softly to her as he caresses her face, his crimson eyes looking into her dark ones. He pulls out his gizmo. “Lyla get us help now!” Hes desperate. The holographic woman appears and nods before fizzling out, off to reach anyone she can. Miguel looks back at Valentine as he holds her bleeding body in his arms. “Hey, its going to be okay. They’re coming okay?” Miguel whispers, he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her, or himself.

“Mig…I…Its really cold…and….I’m so tired.” Her eyelids flutter as she looks up at him, her breathing is getting shallow and uneven.

“I know, Lo sé, cariño, Please, espere por favor.” Miguel pleaded with her. “There’s so much, so much I need to tell you…” She keeps coughing, more blood. He feels tense. Where is the back up? What is taking so long? He watches as She struggles to keep her eyes open. 

“Miggy…you…its not your fault…Its…Its not…” Valintine tries to keep her eyes on his, buther vison is getting hazy and shes struggling to talk. “Mig…I…I’m sorry.” She whispers. She feels the room getting darker, and her body getting heavier.

“No, No Val, Valentine…please. I…I can’t loose you…please… Por favor... Yo... no puedo perderte. No puedo vivir sin ti. Te amo, por favor te amo.”  He cried out as the light faded from her eyes. He held her close to his body. Just then Peter B and Jess rushed in the door. They were too late.  Peter Held Jess back as they watched Miguel cling to Valentines lifeless body, sitting in a pool of her blood as he cried his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry…I love you…I…I love you.”

~

Masterlist

Tag: @femmeanonymelives

Translations:

Lo sé, cariño: I know, dear.

espere por favor: please wait

Por favor... Yo... no puedo perderte. No puedo vivir sin ti. Te amo, por favor te amo.: Please...I...can't lose you. I can't live without you. I love you, please I love you.

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 12

Part 12/30

12. "You are all I can think about."

Pairing: Echo x Fives

Rating/WC: M/7036

Warnings: heavy angst, angst with a hopeful/ambiguous ending, angst with little/no comfort.

Notes: I got the idea for this fic stuck in my head and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. What did you think? <3

~~~

"No," the captain says, shaking his head violently as if to clear it. "You're dead. I saw you die. Fox shot you. You're dead."

"Boo," Fives mumbles, but the joke falls flat. He scratches the back of his head, looking anywhere except Rex's eyes. "I don't know why I'm alive either. All I know is that I was shot, I thought I died, and then I woke up."

Rex narrows his eyes suspiciously at Fives, and the latter can't really blame him. He hardly believes it either, and he's the one back from the dead. "How long have you been back?"

"A few hours," Fives supplies, and watches Rex's eyes widen in shock. "I was in a bacta tank somewhere on the lower levels. The better question is: how long was I gone?”

Rex bites his lip, chewing on it in a nervous habit he doesn’t indulge in often.

“That long?” Fives tries to joke, but his voice gives him away. “Come on, Rex just tell me.”

“A long time,” Rex finally supplies, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Too long, Fives. Almost two years.”

Fives swallows thickly, before forcing a shaky smile. “You didn’t win the war without me, did you?” Rex continues chewing on his lip, making Fives wince. “So we won?”

“Depends on what you mean by won,” Rex mumbles, shifting his weight.

“I don’t like that answer,” Fives mumbles, starting to bounce on the balls of his feet with anxiety. “Are we safe out here in the open?”

“No,” Rex says immediately, looking over his shoulder. “Who was with you?”

“Fox,” Fives says, and cocks his head in confusion. Who else would have bothered to save a dead clone?

“He isn’t safe,” Rex mumbles, grabbing onto Fives’ wrist. “We have to go, and fast. Is Fox here? Is anyone watching?”

“He said I could go,” Fives says, his skin crawling. “Something about how his new boss wouldn’t be happy to find out he saved me. Who’s his new boss?”

“He isn’t new, not really,” Rex starts to tug on Fives’ arm, so Fives starts to follow. “You were right, Fives. About everything. We should have listened to you.”

“No,” Fives says, eyes wide with horror. “It’s happened? The chips?”

Rex doesn’t verbally confirm, but the silence is answer enough.

“Did you kill Skywalker?” Fives asks, after too many minutes of thick, awkward silence.

Rex ducks his head, and Fives’ heart hurts. His general was crazy, but he loved him. Anakin was a good man, a great fighter, and a better friend to the clones.

And they repaid him by putting blaster bolts through him.

“Rex, are all the Jedi gone?” It makes him shiver; there were thousands of them. Fives had met and worked with many of them, liked many of them. Especially his own general, and his general’s old master, General Kenobi.

“There are at least three alive that I know of,” Rex supplies, turning them to a new, less crowded street.

“Rex, is Ahsoka-“

“She’s one of them,” Rex is quick to say, already sensing the over-looming sadness threatening to swallow Fives whole. “Her and another padawan, according to a friend. All the other younglings…”

Fives swallows thickly, almost slipping. “They were just children,” Fives says, as if that makes it impossible.

“General Skywalker was the first to die, I think,” Rex says after several more minutes of silent walking. It makes Fives flinch. “The 501st had split up, and the half I wasn’t with went off with Skywalker to Coruscant, to protect the chancellor. Order 66 went out a few days later, while they were still on the planet. Then the 501st went to the Jedi temple, led by the sith’s new apprentice, Darth Vader. They killed everyone inside, and burned it down.” Rex stops suddenly, turning to Fives with a broken expression. “The general would have stopped them, if he were still alive. Or he would have died trying. He wouldn’t have let us do that.”

Fives nods in agreement, and keeps his head down. It’s so much to take in. Tup had tried to warn Fives, and Fives was too late to save him. And then Fives was too late to warn Rex. To warn everyone. Fives failed, and the Jedi are all dead because of it.

“Rex, I’m…I’m so sorry.” Fives says, and Rex doesn’t reply. He just keeps them moving, up the levels and around alleys and skirting the attention of literally everyone.

They finally find a ship, and Rex leads Fives on quickly. “How do you have this?” Fives mumbles.

“Stole it,” he says easily, going to the controls and starting up the ship. “There’s a few of us who work together to…” he trails off, piloting them out of the lower levels and into the regular traffic of Coruscant. “I’m trying to save and free as many of our brothers as I can. It’s slow, difficult work. But I’m trying.”

“Who are you working with?” He asks softly.

“A bunch of people. Mostly senators who resent the new Empire.” He sighs sadly. “Remember senator Chuchi?”

Fives smiles at that. “She’s grown a lot, since we first met her.”

Rex lets it sit like that, the silence slightly less uncomfortable after a more upbeat note to pause on. “If my intelligence is right, and the Bad Batch usually are right, I might be able to find Cody. He deserted a couple months ago.”

Fives’ eyes widen. “Are the chips wearing off or something? How are they fighting the control?”

Rex hums, flying out of the atmosphere and sending them into Hyperspace. He turns to Fives then. “They’re phasing clones out. I don’t think Palpatine is watching us as closely anymore.”

Fives winces, immediately understanding what Rex is implying. “Who are the Bad Batch?” Fives asks, just to change the subject.

Rex’s eyes widen, and his breath hitches. “Oh, Fives. I forgot. I forgot, of course you wouldn’t know. I met them after-“ he cuts himself off, eyes wide.

“After what? The order?” Fives asks, rubbing his palms along his blacks. He wishes Fox had given him his armor back, or even armor to borrow. But he supposes the armor would have made it harder to sneak around with Rex.

Rex suddenly smiles, wide and genuine, excited almost. “Oh, Fives. I have the biggest surprise for you. You’re going to love it.”

Fives quirks a brow, but doesn’t bother asking. Rex has decided it’s a surprise, so a surprise it will be. “Whatever it is, it has to be better than all the other surprises I’ve woken up to today.”

Rex’s smile falters, but he manages to get it back easily. He types in new coordinates, and then leans back in his chair. “You should rest. You’ll want to be awake for this.”

Fives genuinely can’t think of a single thing he wants that would get Rex this excited and happy after their conversation. Maybe seeing Ahsoka again; it would make sense if it was her, actually, since she’s alive and apparently just as much of a wanted man as Rex is. And of course she would be the type of person to want to help the clones.

“Bad Batch is a funny name,” Fives says, standing up and stretching. “The Domino Squad called ourselves a bad batch.”

Rex’s smile melts into something fond, and a little sad. “I think Echo told me that once.”

Fives winces at Echo’s name. He doesn’t let himself think about his lost lover very often; except for he can never seem to help it. Every once in a while something will happen and Fives will turn to share a look with Echo; or someone will say Echo’s name, or someone will behave like Echo did. He was meaner to Dogma than he normally would be, for that very reason.

“I’m going to lay down. Wake me up when we get close.”

~

Fives dreamed of Echo. Dreamed of his smile, and his expressive eyes, and the way Fives could so easily make them roll. He dreamed about having Echo in his arms again, of him whispering I love you, you dumbass.

It was such a sweet dream, that it almost makes Fives cry when he opens his eyes and finds that he’s alone.

Instead of crying he goes to the ship’s ‘fresher, cleaning up quickly and getting redressed. He goes back to where Rex is, staring out at the stars. “Oh good,” Rex says, typing something into the controls. “I was about to wake you. We’re pulling into the system.”

“Where are we?” Fives asks, watching as they pull out of hyperspace.

“Pabu,” Rex says, pulling them into the gorgeous looking planet. “It’s a refugee planet. The Bad Batch stays here most of the time.”

Fives almost decides to tease Rex, ask how Ahsoka is liking it. Spoil the surprise. But Rex seems so genuinely happy and excited, and Fives hasn’t seen him like this since before Umbara. Maybe even since before the Citadel.

Rex flies them over the water for a while, before they come upon an island. Rex either visits a lot, or these refugees are far too trusting, because they wave them in happily in greeting.

Rex parks the ship in the middle of a square, seemingly designed for just this purpose, and practically vibrates out of his seat. “Stay in the ship, and don’t peek.”

Fives cracks an amused smile, but nods in promise. “Okay, I won’t peek. This is some surprise, Rex.”

Rex only beams at Fives, before exiting the ship and taking off in a run, barking into his comm. 

Fives smiles again, deciding to sit in the back with the safety harnesses. It’s far enough away from the front and the door that he can’t see outside, but not so far in the ship he feels alone and scared again. Like when he woke up in the bacta tank. 

Fives sighs in annoyance when he realizes this isn’t going to take just a few minutes. He’s always been impatient and antsy. 

Luckily, he isn’t left alone with his thoughts for too terribly long. Rex comes on the ship, bouncing and beaming at Fives. “Okay, don’t say anything yet. Just close your eyes and come here.”

Fives almost makes an inappropriate joke, but keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes as well. He walks over to Rex, and feels Rex’s hand land on his arm to guide him. 

“Okay, a little to the left. Okay. Stay there, don’t make that face, just trust me.” Rex must have been talking to Ahsoka, because Fives wasn’t making a face. “Okay, you’re both in place. One second.” He hears Rex hop off the ramp, and then shift a bit. “Okay. Open.”

Fives opens his eyes, excited to see his lost commander. But he doesn’t see Ahsoka. 

He’s confused, at first. He doesn’t understand this surprise, why Fives should be excited. Not at first. And then he sees the eyes. This surprise is infinitely better than Ahsoka. 

Fives’ jaw drops open, and his eyes widen in shock. He takes a step forward without telling himself to do so, his arms stretching out to reach. 

Because that’s Echo. Those are Echo’s eyes and those are his lips and Fives just knows. Even though Echo is paler and he’s got some new limbs and his regulation haircut is gone. It’s Echo. Fives knows it, knows it more surely than he’s ever known anything in his entire life. 

Echo stays still, eyes wide with disbelief, mouth hanging open in shock. Echo must have been back for some time, if he was so used to Fives being dead. 

A part of Fives recognizes that there are others around them. People he’s never met, and Rex, and locals further away. But all Fives cares about is Echo. 

Fives does tell his legs to walk the rest of the way down the ramp, barely holding himself back from sprinting into Echo’s arms. Instead he gets right in front of him, hands finding their way to Echo’s sides. He rests them there gently, just letting himself feel that Echo is alive. “Echo,” he says, and it sounds far away. 

Echo’s hand shakily raises, reaching out and cupping Fives’ cheek. His shocked expression morphs into the widest smile he thinks he’s ever given Echo. Fives’ eyes flutter closed and he leans into it, choking on a sob. 

He thought he would never feel this again. “Echo, I thought you were…Echo. I love-” 

Echo snaps his hand back suddenly, breath getting quicker and louder as he steps away. 

Fives opens his eyes, his smile faltering. “Echo?” His hands fall to his sides. 

“Why did you bring him here?” Echo snaps, his voice clipped. He’s addressing Rex, but he’s eyeing Fives with a mix of anger and…disgust, maybe? 

Fives’ eyes widen in shock, and he turns to Rex. He’s mirroring Fives’ shocked expression. The people who are watching are also surprised, the little girl seeming completely at a loss. 

“It’s Fives,” Rex says, voice a bit confused. “He’s alive, aren’t you…I thought you would want to see him as soon as you could.”

“You were wrong,” Echo all but growls. “Take him away,” he shouts over his shoulder, turning on his heel and stomping away. He pushes past one of the people who tries to stop him, marching away from Fives. 

Fives blinks rapidly, confused and hurt. “Echo?” He whispers, even though he’s far too far away to hear anymore. Out of all the ways he pictured himself seeing Echo again, hearing him say he isn’t happy to see him wasn’t on the list.  

Rex gets closer to Fives, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I…thought that would go differently.”

“He’s alive,” Fives says, and the joy he gets from saying that far outweighs the confusion and hurt. “Rex, he’s-he’s alive. Echo’s alive!”

“I know,” Rex says, and his confused frown melts into a pleased smirk. “I wish you could have been there to save him, Fives. I was so happy to have one of you back, I just…”

Fives shakes his head, looking after where Echo went. “Maybe it’s a good thing I wasn’t there…Is he mad at me? Does he blame me for not saving him?” Fives did. Fives used to stay awake at night wondering what he could have done differently, how he could have saved Echo if he was just better. He hated himself so much after, for surviving when Echo didn’t, that he barely had time to miss his lover. 

“No, he definitely doesn’t. I’m sure of that.” Rex says, and walks them over to the others who were watching their less than perfect reunion. “Fives, this is the Bad Batch.” He points at each member as he names them, and they wave. “Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair, and Omega. Echo joined their squad after we saved him.”

Hunter steps forward, and Fives has the feeling he’s their leader somehow. “Fives. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Fives smiles at him, offering his hand in greeting. Hunter takes it in a firm shake, and Fives just gets it, suddenly. The way Hunter grabs his hand, the way the shake is a bit too tight to be anything other than assertive. He gets why Echo ran. 

Echo is with Hunter now. 

He doesn’t blame Echo, of course; he isn’t mad or even upset. Fives was dead, he died. He wouldn’t want Echo to have been lonely all these years, not like Fives had been. 

What upsets Fives is that it was so easy for Echo to get over the shock of seeing Fives alive again, and instead of being happy Fives isn’t dead, he’s angry about it. Would he rather Fives had stayed dead? He can handle Echo not wanting him anymore, can handle the idea that Echo has moved on in the years Fives was absent. What hurts is the idea that Echo would rather Fives be really dead than this. 

Some of that hurt must shine through the cracks of his polite mask, because Hunter suddenly slackens his grip and winces in guilt. His eyes flick away, unable to keep eye contact; and if Fives hadn’t been sure before, he is now.

“All good things,” the big one-Wrecker-pipes up, with an awkward laugh. He knows about Hunter and Echo, but doesn’t know Fives knows. 

Fives lets go of Hunter’s hand, turning his forced smile to Wrecker. “That’s nice to hear,” Fives says, trying to keep the peace. It makes Wrecker relax just a bit, obviously proud of himself for not giving anything away.

“I am sure Echo is just having trouble adjusting to you being back. Perhaps a few moments alone to come to terms with the idea would be beneficial.” The one with goggles, Tech, adds after another awkward pause. 

The silver haired clone, Crosshair snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think any amount of time is going to fix the fact that-”

“Hunter,” the little girl asks, side eyeing Crosshair. “I want to play in the ocean.”

“We can take her,” Tech butts in before his squadmates can, taking hold of Omega’s hand. Who even is this kid, and why do a bunch of mutated clones have her? “Perhaps Phee is down by the water as well.”

“I’m always down for a good swim!” Wrecker booms, and Fives really likes him. He reminds Fives of Hevy, and of Hardcase. He wonders if Echo thinks of Hevy too, around Wrecker.

“Can I talk with you for a second, Hunter? Before you go with them?” Fives asks, overly polite. Fives is fully certain Rex doesn’t know about Echo and Hunter’s relationship; he wouldn’t have brought Fives here if he did know. But he knows Fives is off, and he knows Echo wasn’t happy to see Fives again, and Rex is smart. The older clone shifts his weight and looks between the pair with a worried frown between his brows. 

To his credit, Hunter nods after only a second’s hesitation. “You guys go ahead, I’ll be down there in a few minutes to join you.”

Wrecker grabs Omega and puts her on his shoulders, grabbing Crosshair by the scruff of his neck and leading him; which is a very great idea, because he fights it and hisses something about staying with Hunter. 

Rex hesitates by the ship, before he sighs. “I’m going to go see if Echo is okay…Fives, are you…are you okay?”

Fives doesn’t look at Rex; he has eyes only for Hunter. He doesn’t know why, but he has the feeling Hunter is nervous. If he is, he’s doing a fantastic job of hiding it. “No,” Fives says, surprising all of them with his honesty. “Just make sure he’s okay, please?”

Rex stares for a few minutes more, before sighing and nodding once. “Don’t…do anything,” he says, but to whom Fives isn’t sure. He heads off in the same direction Echo left for. 

Hunter shifts his weight, keeping eye contact with Fives even though he obviously doesn’t want to. “You wanted to speak with me, Fives?”

“Has he been happy?” Fives asks, making Hunter’s eyes widen in confusion. 

“What?” Hunter asks, taking a small step back. 

“Echo,” Fives clarifies, as if that was the confusing part. “Is he happy? Here, with you, with your squad. Is he happy?”

Hunter narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Yes. He is.”

Fives nods, breaking eye contact first. “Is that your daughter?” Fives asks after a beat. 

Hunter barks an amused laugh, causing Fives to look up. “What are you playing at?”

Fives sighs, and allows himself to look as tired as he feels for a second. “I’m not. Echo being happy is all I’ve ever wanted. What I wished for every single day since…it happened. Echo is alive, and he’s happy, and-” he pauses, looking around the island unnecessarily. “He’s even safe, which is more than any trooper could ever have hoped for their...” he trails off, unsure of what to call Echo now.

Hunter stares, and Fives sees the appeal; he’s very pretty. Echo used to say that Fives was pretty; he would say Fives was too pretty for his own good, even. 

Now he wishes he had never seen Fives again. Now he wishes Fives was still dead. He’ll never look at Fives with those loving eyes again, never call Fives pretty. 

Echo will never say he loves Fives again. Fives will never hear those words spoken to him again. 

The thought makes Fives’ face crumbles, and he looks away so Hunter won’t see it; he’s pretty sure Hunter sees it anyway. He sucks in a breath that feels like it stings, feeling the breath shake as he exhales. 

“Omega is a clone,” Hunter says suddenly, and it startles Fives out of his head. “She doesn’t age the same as us, and she’s…a girl. But she’s a clone. We took her in, she’s family. She might as well be my kid.”

Fives nods once, fingers tapping on his thighs. “So you’re all…raising her? Together?”

“Kind of,” Hunter says. “We’re her brothers. We’re brothers.”

Fives nods, opening his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what he would want to say here. 

“Fives, listen,” Hunter says after a few beats, shifting his weight again. 

Fives doesn’t want to listen, not anymore. “I get it,” Fives says softly, cutting Hunter off. “You don’t have to say it out loud.”

“He misses you. All the time.” Hunter shifts his weight carefully. “He doesn’t talk about it very often, only when Omega begs for stories. But he misses you all the time.”

Fives looks back to Hunter, letting out a shaky breath. “Doesn’t change the end result though, does it?” Fives asks rhetorically. “I meant it, Hunter. The fact that he’s alive and happy is enough for me. I can live with that.”

Hunter opens his mouth, starts to say something. Changes his mind. Looks around, and tries again. “You would be easier to hate if you weren’t such a good person.”

Fives barks a laugh; out of everything Hunter could have said just then, that’s possibly the very last thing he would have expected. “Ditto.”

It’s quiet for a minute, and then Hunter sighs heavily. “You said you could be happy, but you’re very obviously devastated.”

Fives winces a bit at being called out. “I mean, he said he wished I was still dead. Or at least, that I never came back. That still stings. But that’s something else entirely. It’s nothing compared to how happy him being alive makes me.”

“So you’re not going to try and take him away with you? Win him back?” Hunter lifts his chin, and very obviously looks down his nose at Fives.

Fives doesn’t rise to the bait, just smiles sadly. “No. I don’t think I could take that type of rejection with a straight face.”

“You don’t know if he would reject you,” Hunter argues. 

“He’s moved on, Hunter,” Fives says, and how fucked up is it that he’s the one lecturing Echo’s new boyfriend about how this works? “He has you, he has a family, he has a home.” His voice breaks on the last word, and Fives has to look away again. 

He and Echo had talked about it, late at night or in between battles, when their words weighed a little less and the thought of a future at all seemed unlikely. They would talk about where they wanted to set up a home after the war, which planet and how big and if they’d get any pets. Farm or city apartment, mid or inner rim, with their brothers or somewhere just them. 

One time Fives had joked and said he would settle anywhere Echo existed, even if it was mustafar and there was nothing but lava and heat. Pabu is much nicer. 

“He told me once that you and him were soulmates, if they exist. That nothing could ever replace you in his heart, and that he’ll spend forever mourning you.” Hunter steps closer, and Fives looks up with tears in his eyes. “You’re talking like he’s forgotten you, like you don’t have a chance.”

“Why are you trying to convince me to get him back from you?” Fives asks, lashing out in response to the deep cuts. Because maybe all of that is true, maybe, but it still isn’t enough for Echo. Echo still ran, still spit out that he isn’t happy Fives is alive. Still told Rex to take Fives away.  

Hunter huffs. “Because you don’t want to. Because you’re willing to walk away and let us be happy.” Fives shakes his head in confusion, and Hunter sighs. “You’re making me feel like the bad guy, here. Like I love him less than you because I don’t want to give him up.”

Fives blinks and one tear escapes his eye. “This isn’t a game, Hunter. I’m not trying to be better than you-“

“I know,” Hunter cuts him off. “That’s why it’s infuriating. If you were manipulating the situation it would be easier to sink my claws in. But you’re a good person, and Echo does love you, and he should get to choose without feeling guilty. We can give him that, if I get on board.”

Fives shakes his head. “I said I can’t handle that rejection. He will choose you, even if he loves me more. Because you come with a family and a squad and a home, and I come with nothing. Literally nothing; I don’t own anything, I’m legally dead, I’m at Rex’s mercy. I’m probably just going to be a soldier again, jump right back into the fight; wherever the fight is now. This isn’t just about who he loves more, it’s about Omega and your Batch and Pabu.”

“It’s easy to love someone for what they can give you,” Hunter says softly. 

“Stop trying to make me think I have a chance, here,” Fives says finally, looking back at his feet. He kicks a rock, wipes at his face. “He chose you the second he turned away from me. He saw me, knew he could have me, and chose not to. He chose to turn around and keep you instead.”

“He’s just overwhelmed right now, Fives. He just needs time to think about-”

“You’re hurting me,” Fives whispers, but it’s apparently loud enough for Hunter to hear because his jaw clicks shut. “He wishes I was still dead, or at least that he thought I was still dead. He said that, he said he didn’t want to see me and he didn’t want to know I was alive. I was in the middle of telling him I love him, and he-” Fives cuts himself off, looking at his feet again in case can’t hold his tears back. “I do want him to be happy, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, what he said. What he did.”

“He wouldn’t have run if he didn’t love you anymore,” Hunter says softly, taking a small step closer. “He wouldn’t have felt the need to get away from you if he felt nothing for you, if he moved on. He would have stayed and talked to you.”

Fives swallows thickly. “Crosshair is probably going to find a way to shoot me if you take much longer,” Fives croaks, unwilling to repeat himself again. He can only talk about how obvious it is Echo won’t choose him for so long before he breaks. 

Hunter stares, and he waits, but he finally sighs and nods. “I better get down there. I…It was nice to meet you, Fives. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Fives doesn’t say anything back, and eventually Hunter’s footsteps start to recede as he walks away. Fives makes his way back onto the ship, going as deep into it as he can and finding a hiding spot that feels good enough to pretend he wouldn’t be found. 

“He’s alive,” Fives whispers, and despite the pain and the heartbreak, the words make him smile. “Echo is alive. He’s alive, and that’s all that matters.” Because it is all that matters; Fives doesn’t need Echo to love him anymore, if that’s the price he has to pay to know Echo is alive to not love him. 

The idea of Echo holding Hunter, of whispering that he loves him, of smiling at Hunter like he used to only smile at Fives; that hurts. It does. But it barely registers on a pain scale where the idea of Echo being dead exists. Fives can still breathe knowing Echo loves someone else, chose someone else. It hurts, sure; but Fives wanted to stop existing when Echo died. He couldn't breathe, he didn’t even want to, when Echo was dead. The pain he feels now is absolutely nothing in comparison. 

Fives will be okay, one day. He’ll still miss Echo, and he’ll long to hear him say I love you again; but he’ll be okay. Because Echo is alive, and he’s happy, and he has a family, and he has a home. He has everything Fives could never give him, and Fives will just learn to let that be enough. 

He hears the ship doors open, and sinks further into his hiding spot. He doesn’t want to talk to Rex again yet; he knows Rex didn’t know, but he can’t help but blame Rex. If Rex had given Echo a heads up, Fives wouldn’t have had to hear him say he didn’t want to see Fives alive again. 

“Fives?” Rex calls, and Fives ignores him. He needs time, alone, to accept the truth. To accept the pain, and learn how to love it. It’s selfish; he knows he’s being selfish. He wants Echo all to himself, and he needs to get over it. He knows that. He’ll be okay again.

He just wants a few minutes to be selfish. 

“Fives, I know you’re on here. There’s nowhere else for you to go.” Rex’s footsteps start to come closer, and Fives sighs in disappointment.  

He comes out of his hiding spot, meeting Rex halfway to the back of the ship. He knows he looks bad; knows he looks like he’s been crying. Rex’s startled gasp is enough proof of that. “Are we leaving now?” he asks instead of saying anything else, because he wants to say something mean and that wouldn’t be helpful. 

Rex swallows and frowns grimly. “Fives, I’m sorry about…what happened. I really did think Echo would have been ecstatic to see you. I didn’t know about Hunter.”

Fives allows himself to look away, to take a few seconds to breathe through the urge to start crying again. “I know you didn’t,” Fives finally gets out, his voice thick. “Is he okay?”

Rex is quiet for a minute, long enough to encourage Fives to look up again. “Not really. He feels guilty, and conflicted. He wants to talk to you.”

Fives sucks in a breath, shifting his weight. Is he selfish enough to deny Echo that? He wants to be. He wants to tell Rex to get them the hell off of this planet, and preferably into the closest and most dangerous fight he’ll let Fives into. “Rex,” he whispers, finally looking up and allowing Rex to see the pain in his eyes. 

Rex winces, but his mouth is set into a firm line. “I think you should talk.”

“He’s going to tell me he chooses them,” Fives says, and he feels a tear fall down his face. “I’m okay with him choosing that, but I don’t think I can-I can…I don’t know if I can hear him say it without breaking.”

Rex is quiet again, mulling the words over in his mind. “If it were Cody, I would want to hear him say it. Just to have the closure. Just to know it’s really over, and I could start healing from it.” He stares at Fives, arms crossed over his chest. 

He didn’t say that Echo would choose Fives. He didn’t dangle that false hope in front of him. Was that Rex being kind or being cruel? Fives can’t decide. 

Fives didn’t realize how badly he wanted Rex to tell him Echo would choose Fives until he didn’t. It hits harder than his conversation with Hunter did, and Fives feels like he’s already broken enough for a lifetime. 

Maybe Rex is right. Maybe it’ll be the closure he needs, and he’ll start to heal after. Maybe it’ll be like that time Kix did sutures on him without any numbing spray; maybe it’ll hurt like hell while it happens, but then he’ll start to get better and he’ll be grateful in the end. 

“Okay,” Fives says, clearing his throat and wiping his face. “Okay. Just…Okay.”

Rex claps a hand on Fives’ shoulder in encouragement, and then turns around. “I’ll send him in and give you guys some privacy.”

Fives nods despite Rex’s back being turned, and takes deep breaths to calm himself down. He hears new footsteps clamber onto the ship, and feels himself tense up instinctually. He forces himself to relax his shoulders, and takes one more deep breath before looking up. 

He looks right into Echo’s eyes, and he feels the breath leave him. Despite the guilt and anguish there, despite the fact that Fives knows exactly what’s about to happen, just seeing those eyes makes Fives feel so happy and at home. He can’t stop the smitten smile from forcing its way onto his lips, can’t stop the warm feeling from spreading through his chest. “Echo,” he whispers, reaching out to touch before snapping his hand back when he remembers. 

Echo isn’t his to touch anymore. His need to reassure himself Echo is real is irrelevant now. 

Echo winces, looking away with a guilty frown. “I wanted to apologize for earlier,” Echo says, and clears his throat. “I…panicked.”

Fives nods, even though Echo isn’t looking at him. “It’s okay,” he lies, his voice breathless. 

Echo looks back at Fives, and Fives feels like nothing bad could ever happen to him again. As long as Echo keeps looking at him, as long as he can see Echo’s eyes, so alive and impossibly warm despite the guilt and sorrow in them. “I didn’t mean it. I am glad that you’re alive. And I’m glad I got to see you again.”

Fives swallows, and the smile refuses to leave his face. His heart is so impossibly full, and he’s so desperately in love with Echo. 

Every second he gets to look at Echo is a gift; every second in his presence is a heaven Fives never deserved. He never wants this moment to end. He would let Echo say all the devastatingly hateful things he wanted, as long as it meant Echo was talking to him.

It doesn’t even hurt right now, the high he’s on is too powerful to let him feel any pain. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Echo says, and he sounds so guilty and hurt. Fives never wanted to hurt him; never wanted to be the reason Echo felt any sort of negative emotion. 

Fives looks away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears he didn’t know were building at bay. “I’m sorry,” Fives says, and the high is already wearing off again now that Echo isn’t in his field of vision. “I won’t.”

“Don’t-” Echo huffs, and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably. “Don’t apologize.” 

“Okay,” Fives whispers, because he doesn’t know what Echo wants to hear. He used to always know that, used to know instinctively exactly what Echo wanted him to say. As if he could read Echo’s mind. 

It’s quiet, and Fives can’t help himself. He looks back at Echo, and the other clone is staring at the ground anyway. His breath catches, and he greedily drinks his fill of Echo. So alive and undeniably himself. His Echo. 

No, not his. Not anymore. Fives doesn’t get to call Echo his anymore. The thought almost hurts, but looking at Echo dulls the pain into just a mildly unpleasant buzz under his skin. 

“I moved on,” Echo blurts out, and his eyes flick up to Fives to gauge his reaction. 

“I know,” Fives says, and feels like it was the wrong thing to say. “It’s okay. I was gone a long time, it’s okay.”

Echo’s hand clenches into a fist, and his jaw sets angrily. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say to that?”

Fives swallows thickly. He should know what Echo wants him to say, he always used to. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, even though it’s the only thing he could have said that he’s sure is wrong. 

Echo’s nostrils flare in anger, and Fives wants to kiss the wrinkle between his brows until it smoothes away. 

He wants to hold Echo, and whisper how much he loves him and how much he never stopped thinking about him for even a second, despite his best efforts. He wants to make Echo melt into him again, make Echo feel safe and happy like he used to be able to.

“I want you to say the truth. I want you to be mad and tell me how much you hate me.” Echo crosses his arms in challenge, and Fives is almost lost in his desperate need to pull Echo into him and kiss him until he’s giggling and loosening his arms again. 

“I don’t hate you,” Fives says truthfully, staring at Echo even though he requested Fives not to. “I couldn’t.”

“I’m with someone else!” Echo reminds him, voice raised in his anger. 

“I know,” Fives reminds Echo, hands twitching at his sides. “I said it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Echo yells, throwing his arms up in impatience. “I betrayed you!”

“I was dead,” Fives disagrees, and the idea of Echo betraying him is so incredulous it almost makes Fives laugh. “You didn’t betray me, I was dead.”

“I choose him,” Echo says, nose scrunched with anger. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Fives’s reaction must stun him into silence.

Fives knew it was coming. He knew. He told Hunter it would happen. Rex told him it would happen. He was fully aware Echo was going to stay here with Hunter and the bad batch.

Knowing it was coming didn’t make it hurt any less. 

His breath leaves him all at once, as if Echo punched him as hard as he could in the gut. The tears that build in his eyes are involuntary, as is the way his eyes shut and force them out and down his cheeks. 

Fives wishes he had died when Fox shot him. Better yet, he wishes he died at the citadel. He wishes he died at Rishi. He wishes he was never decanted at all. Anything but those words, anything but hearing Echo say it out loud. 

“Fives,” Echo chokes, and he sounds so guilty. 

“Sorry,” Fives chokes out, forcing himself to open his eyes and look at Echo. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He gasps in a sharp breath, feeling like he’s breathing in knives instead of air. “That’s okay, it’s okay. I understand.”

Echo takes an angry step towards Fives, his face morphing back into anger and losing the guilt. “You shouldn’t! You should be fighting for me!”

Fives chokes on a laugh, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Echo’s face. “I don’t want to make this any harder for you than it has to be, Echo. I know you’re choosing Hunter, I know you’ve moved on, I know there’s nothing I can say or do to convince you to walk away from this. I don’t want to. You’re happy here, you have a family here. You have everything I’ve ever wanted you to have.” He finally looks away, just to the right of Echo. “And if you left it for me, you wouldn’t be happy. All you would ever think about is how much you miss it here, how much you hate me for coming back to life and dragging you away from your happiness.”

“You are all I can think about!” Echo yells, and Fives finally looks back to Echo only to find him crying. “I don’t want to be happy if you aren’t.”

Fives gives up on holding himself back; he surges forward and connects their lips. It isn’t perfect; it’s full of tears and hurt and heartbreak. He pulls away from it too soon, kissing Echo’s nose and then his forehead, arms wrapping tightly around Echo. 

He doesn’t know if this embrace is a promise or a goodbye, and he knows he won’t until Echo decides. He’s never felt so helpless and desperate before. He didn’t want to ask for this exact reason; the false hope that swells inside of him, the irrational thought that Echo just might choose him after all. That Echo could leave all of this behind and join Fives in his new life on the run. 

It was easier when he believed there was no chance. When he thought Echo hated him and wanted him gone. This hope is threatening to swallow him whole, to leave nothing of Fives behind but a skeleton and a broken heart. 

“I’ll be happy again,” he says after a beat, and his voice only shakes a little bit. “Knowing that you’re alive and happy out there. That’ll make me happy. You don’t have to walk away from this just because you think I won’t be happy.”

Echo moves his head until his forehead rests on Fives’ shoulder, and his arms tighten around Fives’ torso. “I never don’t think about you,” he whispers into the skin under his lips. “I don’t know if I could go back to this life knowing you’re alive.”

“I love you,” Fives whispers, and silently begs for time to freeze them in this moment. Begs for this moment to last forever, dragged on for infinity. Just as long as Echo doesn’t pull away and tell Fives he still chooses Hunter. Just as long as he can stay here, and not know what Echo will do.

[moondragon618]

@stemms Hi I thought you might like this :)

I had a dream abt that two c!Tommys idea you had lol. It was a little different in my dream though- I remember I was a post-prison break Tommy and there was another slightly younger Tommy. I think he was either disc war era or maybe like mid-exile based on how he was around c!Dream? I'm inclined to go with disc war though bc he didn't really seem scared at all. Also c!Dream was definitely kidnapping us btw lmao but the other Tommy didn't seem to realize that's what was happening. Then at one point c!Dream started talking to the other Tommy in that soft, sickeningly sweet tone he uses and I just went off on him, I think I said something like "Fuck you, I'm not gonna let you fucking exile us again, Dream!!!", and then I started fighting him and yelling at the other Tommy to fucking run. And then I woke up after that L.

Anyway now I'm thinking about Tommy from the end of the server meeting himself from the beginning of the server, seeing this version of himself that hasn't gone through literal hell and back several times over yet, and deciding that he needs to protect him from Dream at all costs. There is one problem though- Dream is the one who figured out how to drag himself and Tommy back to the past in the first place and he is determined to have both Tommys all to himself. Because imagine just how fun it would be to use his Tommy's own past self against him :)

I imagine Dream would not let his Tommy out of his sight, so there wouldn't be a whole lot he could do to protect his past self. Dream would easily be able to gain past Tommy's trust since Tommy already looked up to him at that point and considered him a friend. As for present Tommy? Well, past Tommy is already clearly unsettled by seeing his future self looking like that- covered in scars, looking like he hasn't slept in forever, constantly angry and snapping at Dream, going on about how terrible Dream is with a desperation that borders on hysteria and generally seeming less than stable- so it's not hard for Dream to feed him a twisted and exaggerated version of every mistake his Tommy ever made and convince past Tommy that he's just trying to protect him from becoming that :) When past Tommy asks why he still keeps him around? Well, Dream wants to help him too, it's just going to be a lot harder and will take some time :)

So now you have Tommy helplessly watching in horror as his past self falls into Dream's trap, desperate to protect past Tommy from ending up like him, while Dream uses that exact same reasoning to manipulate him. When he acts up too much, Dream takes him aside and reminds him that he hasn't even hurt past Tommy yet, and makes it clear that it won't stay that way if he doesn't behave :) Meanwhile, past Tommy isn't completely oblivious- he gets the sense that there's something very off about his future self and Dream, but he's kind of scared to say anything. And Dream hasn't even done anything bad yet, he's just been really fucking clingy.

That is, until he eventually stumbles upon Dream standing over his future self with an axe, the slightly older Tommy cowering in fear and pleading for mercy :)

Dream is okay with this though- now he can switch things up, try and convince past Tommy that this is necessary to help his future self, and see how far that can go :) He would already have them pretty isolated at this point (aka he takes them to what would have been Logstedshire) and he knows neither of them would leave the other behind, so the possibilities are endless :) :) :)

[bulgariansumo]

Back at it again, editing Episode 1 of Galactiquest. Version 3.0 patch notes:

-Removed all unnecessary epithets (Hopefully. I found one instance of brunet that I thought I deleted the last time around)

-Toned down the amount of exclamation points

-I think I slightly pared down a scene in Chapter 4? But I added a new one over it, so that probably cancels out

-Gave other characters a little more dialogue, especially Leon

-Changed descriptions around to be more concise, less repetitive, and less verbose (For these being Leon's chapters, I got weirdly fancy with some of the prose)

-New scene 1: In Chapter 1, a girl talks to Leon while he's waiting in the spaceport, eventually leading to him realizing he's late. This finally gave me a chance to explain why the Interstellar Forces is called that and set up that it is struggling somewhat. I think this also the first time I've gotten to mention that the IF was banned from having weapons.

-New scene 2: In Chapter 4, Jun questions why the IF would let such an inexperienced group go to Neptune (in nicer wording, but still). It sets the tone for the trip in a way that was lacking before.

As much as it stung to realize those chapters were a little rougher than I thought, I'm glad I did this. It's not a complete overhaul, but it brought the quality a little closer to my current stuff. I'm grateful some people were still able enjoy them despite rough edges.

In the times that I've asked for feedback, a few people mentioned Chapters 3 and 4 being a bit of a slog. I... did not trim them down as much as I intended. Every time I tried, it went something like this:

Hopefully, adding that section to Chapter 4 will help it feel a little more worthwhile. That being said, if I'm compelled to edit again, I know there's a few scenes in Chapter 4 that probably should go.

For people who want to see the new scenes without reading the whole episode again, I'll post them down below. If you do want to read the full thing, here's a link.

---

New Scene 1 [Bon Voyage, Celestion-5] Ch 1. Boarding for Takeoff

A monitor nearby played an informational video about Earth’s one and only moon colony: Lunaria, the city of his dreams. Though so far away, he felt like it lay within his grasp for the first time. What choice did he have but to be captivated by it?

“Are you heading to your first deployment?” The girl a few seats over might as well have appeared from thin air.

“Hm? How’d you know?” He shook his head out of a daze. Only now did he realize his mouth had been hanging open for who knew how long.

“You seemed pretty enthralled by that video for a star ranger.”

“Oh yeah. Some nights, I spent so long looking at the dome through my telescope, I’d dream about it.” He sighed. “Even now, I can almost breathe that artificial air.”

“I’ve heard it’s cool. My aunt’s paying my way. I bet you’re glad you don’t have to pay those ticket prices either, huh?” She had a pretty laugh.

“Gosh, I thought I’d have to spend my life savings just for a visit. Thank goodness for the IF.”

“You know,” she tilted her head, “I’ve always wondered, why’s it called the Interstellar Forces when we haven’t gone past Mars yet?”

“We’re supposed to dream big now and grow into it later. It worked for me, so…!” he ended with a shrug. “And who knows,” he knew, “we might be going past Mars soon.”

“That’s cute. Sorry about the budget cuts, though. No more weapons, I get, but you guys don’t even have your own ships anymore? They’re just deploying you with us civilians?”

“My ship’s kind of a special case.” Out of curiosity he decided to check his phone. “But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to che–”

His eyes widened in horror at what time it displayed. It was 25 minutes past when he should have boarded.

“Is something wrong?” asked the girl.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He gathered his bags and hurried over to the receptionist. “Excuse me. This is the boarding area for the Celestion ships, right?” Maybe everyone else was just late. “I was supposed to be boarding a ship 25 minutes ago.”

“Oh, no sir. Are you with the Interstellar Forces? All military spacecraft are located on the opposite end.” The receptionist motioned directly behind him.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” He shook the receptionist’s hand vigorously. “Seriously, my career is in your hands. And yours too,” he sped past the girl, “have a nice trip, bye!”

New Scene 2 [Bon Voyage, Celestion-5] Ch 4. Tour's End

“Quick question.” The oddly familiar one smoothed dark, wavy bangs out of her face… or his face? Leon couldn’t tell at this angle. The androgynous voice didn’t help. “The Celestion crews were chosen by chance, yeah?”

“There’s a coupla exceptions as you’re no doubt aware,” Emil winked, “not to mention the captains, but yeah, most of us are random picks.”

“Right, cool. So, like, not to harsh the vibes, but I noticed that none of us except you and the captain are ranked higher than rangers.”

“I almost ascended to corporal~” Allen spoke up.

“I know, Rox.” The familiar one addressed Emil again. “I dunno, I kinda assumed we’d get stationed on each ship based on our experience and ability level.”

That did surprise Leon when he first heard about the opportunity. Described by his old warrant officer as ‘remarkably average in all abilities,’ he never dreamed he’d be offered the chance to go to Neptune. No one from his base deployed to space in years. He hadn’t even earned the star on his uniform yet. No way would he let such good luck pass him by.

“Huh,” Emil pinched one of his curls, “that does make sense.”

A click from the ceiling brought with it Captain Galhardo’s voice. “Randomized crews are a key element of the Celestion Project. Though each captain, including myself, went through a series of tests to ensure our capability.”

“Well, there you have it. Besides, as long as my brother’s piloting, we’ll make it back a-ok. Nothin’ to worry about.” In only a few strides, Emil made his way to the cooking area. “Over here we have a microwave, an oven, dishes, other kitchen-y stuff–Oooh, guys, I gotta show you something!”

He stuck his arm over the stove, to the confusion of Leon and most of the others, and to their horror, turned it on.

[mojaves]

tagged by @nuclearstorms @aartyom @faarkas and @cultistbase to do this tag game for some ocs!

not doing the picrew bc i can't make them all in it and it will make me insane but here it is for anyone else who wants to give it a try!!

FAVOURITE OC

SEBASTIAN VIDAL | 2077

it was a tie between him and alex. but i decided not to give alex special treatment bc otherwise he would be on here twice. anyway this isnt about him. this is about seb. the saddest wettest beast of an oc i think ive ever created. he can fit so much lore in him. he has the worst life. his now boyfriend once tried to kill him no less than 20ish times. his ex wife also tried to kill him. everyone is trying to kill him and he's just out here big silly and gay about it. AND he has great boobs. whats not to love. theyre so big bc theyre so full of the love he has for his friends and family. and im obsessed with him

NEWEST OC

VEGA | 2077

they are a bartender at a club. they have black and green hair. they love short guys and fast cars. theyre a menace. they were a merc once. they can down a whole can of beer in under 10 seconds. you want to he their friend so bad.

OLDEST OC

ALEX SHEPHERD | N/A

literally THE guy of all time who is SOSOSOSOSO important to me. he's gone through so many changes, appearance wise, story wise, even names. he is an amalgamation of so many old dead ocs i didnt know what to do with. he is THE babygirl of the moment and the moment is forever. he has existed in some form for 10??? years now. he CANNOT stay dead and it really shows in both his story and how many iterations he went through to get to this point. tall bastard man who im in love with actually.

MEANEST OC

RUTHIE O'CONNELL | N/A

she's a girlboss but also a horrible person. she tried to kill her husband [after she died. ghost revenge] and eventually succeeded. and then tormented his great[?] nephew, alex. for so many years. until HE also died. bc of her. and now his [not] life is in complete and utter shambles. 0 remorse she just saw this baby and was like ok now how can i torment him psychologically for the next 22 years of his life. and then did it. and for what. girl thats a wholeass fresh baked infant why are you haunting him. go somewhere else.

SOFTEST OC

NOAH TALAVERA | 2077

he is just a little guy who is SO full of love despite the horrors. so gentle with literally everything he touches. the city could have completely changed and ruined him. he could have become angry. he could have become a merc to get money. and fall into that pit like so many others did. but he didnt!!! he didnt let that happen!!!! yes the city may have hurt him and left him with cyberware he never wanted but it will NEVER stop him from being kind. ever. and i love him so much for it.

MOST ALOOF/STANDOFFISH OC

XAVIER MASON | 2077

he is an arasaka plaything whose whole personality has been completely altered bc of it. he used to be welcoming and friendly and Kind. but bc of literally everything arasaka did to him, he's extremely cold and distant, and a bit of an asshole. he is well aware of this, and there is a little voice in him somewhere. begging for him to be kind again. just once. because while he won't ever admit it, he doesnt want to die believing everyone thought he was nothing more than an arasaka bootlicker and an all around shitty guy. he's a loving father, deep down in there somewhere, he just cant show it. and he doesnt know how </3 he'll figure it out again. one day

DUMBEST OC

LUCIANO VIDAL | 2077

it's funny bc he is actually really smart, his brain is a sponge when it comes to learning new things, he is a great listener, and will remember basically everything you ever tell him. however!!! when he started his job as a security guard at a club, he somehow didnt notice his own brother was also there working occasionally. for a whole entire month. [theyre both idiots there sorry seb] but then after that. he also failed to mention to his two sisters that he finally got in contact with his brother again after almost 20 years. it took. ???? a good handful of months for anyone to find out. and it was entirely by accident.

he's very stupid and his idea of what is and isnt important is Very skewed. but i still love him.

SMARTEST OC

LEON DELLO RUSSO | 2077

he designed his own cyberarm. the fingers are full of different sized screwdrivers for different emergencies. he once plotted out the floorplan of an entire spaceship by memory and sheer luck. he is very good at repairing things. he is a cybersecurity expert. he almost got killed for hacking into the wrong systems at work once. he contains multitudes.

OC I'D BE FRIENDS WITH IRL

MARCUS/RYAN/VAL | N/A

yes theres three of them theyre a package deal. marcus sees ghosts. ryan is a wandering soul trying to find her body back. val can read your fortune with eerie accuracy. if the three of them were my friends my life would never be boring ever again

[luxmaeastra]

Rigelus had gone to Lemuria, past the Haldren Sea in the mountains of Pangera. It was a beautiful place with a city carved into the mountain. Rivers snaked through it, many joked it was the sister city to Lunathion.

Rigelus had told Bryce he'd write and bring her back one of their famous salt scrubs.

Then the news had come of scrimmages and war. The demons that lived there, that had defected from Hel - that had mated with the locals...they'd plunged the entire region into war.

The death tolls were high, every week more and fae or mortals dying.

--------

Rigelus stared at the piece of paper, the quill in his hand. The dirt and blood under his nails pronounced with how hard he gripped the quill.

He'd been here for months unable to leave, and if he could he was too invested now. He knew somehow that this would be his Ordeal even if he wasn't fae. Hadn't the Fae got that word from the Asteri? When Asteri came into their powers and they had to earn that Seed of Magic in them.

He would die here he was sure. It had been months and he had gone past horror to numbness. The atrocities didn't make him flinch now - not when it took all his energy to not give in.

That Dark Asteri power demanding he subjugate and dominate others. He would die here and he never told her. Somehow it didn't terrify him now or maybe he just knew she wouldn't feel the same.

Connor was nice, he was good for her. Even if he was a little possesive of her but then wouldn't he have been too if -

Rigelus shut the thoughts down, the ones that lead to those dreams. Of her in his bed, of the way her lips would feel. The things she'd say as they spent a lazy in bed. The things they'd do when they whe weeks and years to go.

He set his quill to paper and began to write. He didn't know if it would even reach her. Or if he'd get any response deliverer if she decided to reply.

The note was short:

Bryce,

I don't think I'll be able to get that salt scrub for you. It's been...chaotic here to say the least. I probably won't make it. I just wanted to say I love you, that I've been in love with you since we were 6 and you gave me my first soda.

Or when we were 9 and you showed me Jelly Jubilee for the first time. Do you remember you let me hold it when I had a nightmare? Our parents had been at some swanky party and I missed mine. I can remember how she smelled - floral and citrus...like you.

Or maybe I fell in love with you when we went to our first Ball and I danced with you. You looked beautiful, still takes my breath away whenever I think about it.

I've been thinking of those moments, of you since I got here. I - don't wait for me (not sure if you even were). If you were waiting, don't. I don't know the type of person that's going to come out of this war. I won't bullshit you and say I'd be too damaged for you. But I - I don't know when I'd ready to face you if I get out of this. I don't know if the person who leaves this nightmare will be the same one you know.

I hope I still love you in the end of this...I'm not sure if I will. If it's easier to just send this in the universe and pray to Urd our paths cross again.

Love,

Rigelus

--------

It had been years since Lemuria. He survived, he made that drop thinking of his mother. He survived so why did he feel he came less than whole?

He spent all his time in the archives, working on understanding the way magic moved through the world. His hands still shook sometimes, the Lotus Tears helped to calm those tremors. The drug helped him to sleep, keep those nightmares at bay.

He stood in the ballroom, staring out on the fancy people. His eyes falling on the male with, the Malakhim that had newly been freed. What had his father called him?

"Orion. It's nice to finally meet you. My father talked of you -"

"Yes. Well. He did bind me."

Rigelus blinked, not sure how to respond to that. Orion turned as he saw her in the crowd. He didn't bother saying goodbye as he moved toward her kissing her with a smile.

Rigelus wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing he just felt numb. No anger, no pain, no rage - just nothing.

He exhaled and looked to his father who rose an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes and moved down the dias striding toward Bryce. Might as well get this over with.

//7 years since they last met? He left for a summer trip to Lemuria at 18?//

He hadn't come home. Bryce had waited each and every day for him to come home like he said he would, he had made that stupid promise to write to her and bring something back for her. There had been a hope and a desire that he would come back, that he would be back in her arms.

That hope died when he didn't, even the letters didn't come and she was left hollow and raw. had he lied, had he lied to her so she would look stupid as she pined after some stupid male. She had been an idiot to hope, to dream. An idiot to think of the possibilities.

It was why she ended up with idiot after idiot, what she had with Connor never grew into anything but a one-sided pining. She released him from that when she felt bad for leading him along, when she knew she could not give him what he wanted.

Hunt though, meeting Hunt had been different. She did not live in the delusion that there would be anything like her parents, she accepted that relationships would be nothing but maybe carnal. Maybe that was why her father didn't like him, but she honestly didn't care.

Bryce smiled when he approached, allowing him to kiss her when they met within the crowd. Her hand touched his arm as she moved to stand by his side. "Where have you been hiding?"

Her attention turned towards the direction he came from, her body frozen when she saw him striding towards her. A lump formed in her throat, her grip tightened on Hunt's arm. "Rigelus..."

[the-haunted-office]

It came this way, didn't it? Stanley was sure he saw the Retcon come this way, past the broom closet. At least, he was pretty sure he did, but now everything seems to have gone quiet and still - well, save for Dorian's ongoing cries of agony. Stanley can't pay any mind to that right now, though.

His running strides come to an abrupt halt when he realizes that the broom closet door is... missing. Backtracking, puzzled, he peers inside, only to fumble backwards in absolute horror...

...when Thursday steps out and greets him, looking utterly, perfectly normal. Exactly as he saw her last - fat, happy, and like she's about say or do something stupid and drag him into it.

Something is off about her, though. He can sense it.

On instinct, Stanley takes a step back, just as Thursday begins to cry.

"Oh, Stanley," she says, sniffing as the tears run tracks down her rosy cheeks. "I know where it all went wrong now. I forgot to stay silly!" Lifting her glasses, she swipes a sleeved forearm across her eyes to clear them of her tears, then replaces her glasses. "I should have buried your body with the piano! That would have been so much funnier AND it would have been abiding by your wishes! I mean- I honestly didn't realize at the time that I was disrespecting you, I hope you can come to see that some day, in your own time, when you're ready, but still, I should have put you in that hole with the piano at the very least for comedic value, because THAT would have been staying silly! Instead, I took your body and put you in that freezer not only because I thought it's what you would have wanted, but because I hit the reset button on my whole character development thing in regards to my own Stanley and couldn't let go of you. I was afraid of losing another Stanley, another friend, because of everything that's happened that wasn't even your fault, and Stanley, I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me some day."

Stanley blinks at her. Once. Twice. Three times.

And... just like that... he's forgiven her.

He can't explain it. Can't elaborate even if he were to try. But it feels right to forgive her - at least here. He realizes that there is an adjacent, more in-depth, less fourth-wall-breaky storyline going where he hasn't forgiven her, but he realizes that there, too, just how sorry she is and that there, too, he knows he is capable of forgiving her. He feels confident that everything will be okay.

Stanley steps forward and does something he never would have even dared to do before. He enfolds the Narrator in a full-on embrace, warm and full and soft and firm and accepting. And that's all it takes. The two friends fold into each other and silently speak a whole Story's worth of language that neither would have ever been able to express had this whole mess not gone down.

Even with Dorian still wailing in the background.

After a few moments of this, though, Stanley breaks the moment. He has to. He's the Protagonist, and he still has a job to do. Tapping Thursday on the shoulder to get her attention, he speaks through his neural link:

"We have to find Doomsday and get her to submit. She needs to accept this too. Will you help me, Thursday?"

Thursday doesn't even think about it. She accepts right away with a nod.

And off they go.

[devastatinglygreen]

Oh don’t get me started on the S2 visit. I know you’ve spoken about your dislike about the show change of the “never marry/never court” scene and let me tell you I have the same level of anger towards the entire “You have Penelope..” scene. The way he responds to that line, the way he apologized to her for….being so baby trappable?? She really said she had nothing to apologize for and did what she had to and the show really had Colin still say in both seasons 2 & 3 that LW ruined her life. Sir she admitted to wanting to ruin yours. Now I’m thinking of an alternate universe where someone with SENSE would’ve realized Colin probably shouldn’t have gone there alone and Eloise went along with him and that’s how Phillip and Eloise meet.

And I was so worried about the brothel scenes prior to the season and ended up not being bothered by them at all (minus the end of the second one. Like if he was that uninterested why not just leave? Or have it be clear the women are doing it moreso for their own pleasure rather than he could watch since he paid?) However I did enjoy everything about Colin’s S3 portrayal because he had an actual arc that followed through.

i feel like i know what they were trying to do there but it fell flat.

colin is so weirdly honor bound in s1 that you're like, my guy, are you trying to be like your brothers or the exact opposite of them? i don't even know if he knows.

also like, let's be real, i think he feels guilty over not just leaving her to her fate but that he doesn't regret it actually thanks. he could have chosen to marry her if he loved her, he didn't so he said bye and good luck with all that

he talks about not being lonely because he discovered himself or whatever randomly pretentious man thing he said (ilysm, colin, i do, never change) and that probably played into his guilt. that man was relieved in the end. a bruised heart? a bruised ego more so methinks.

and tbh i think he really wanted her to have remorse for how she treated him, he wanted to maybe feel that there was guilt that wasn't only his burden. colin is just a really solid dude (when he's not eating his whole feet) and to see her content made him feel even less content, he can't absolve her guilt because she has none. and he can't absolve his own because it depended on his idea of hers. he really likes to think that solving other people's issues will fix his own.

bro. it won't.

if colin was a girl, she'd be that one girl we all know who's like "i can fix him" while we all watch on in horror because he would literally try.

baby girl. colin. no. you cannot.

i want eloise and phillip to meet, ha.

but i also sort of think it was good he went alone as it was tbh. he needed to be made uncomfortable there i'm guessing. he's been stewing in guilt for someone who probably never gave him a second thought. that's humbling. using her to bring up penelope was not subtle at all. when a blunt object meets an oblivious wall i suppose.

you know, the second brothel scene didn't bother me, i was like, that man is being haunted by the horrors. sitting there totally uninterested in the girls while staring at a wall thinking about penelope is what he gets for going out with his douchey friends. what if he had to sit there the whole time because they were all there? pretending to be fine but like, dying inside wishing you were with the girl of your dreams?

they should torture all male romantic leads in some capacity like that. for every fridged woman, i demand a man so pathetic he can't even function due to being down that bad for a woman.😌