#At least I manage to get up early so I don't lose the entire day. That'd really kill my mood

[olisephaa]

Depression is wild sometimes. I spent 6 hours wallowing in nothing, just vegetating in my chair, and now it's like I just woke up and am ready to do workout and start the day. Thank god I had the foresight to get up at 6 am so it's only noon

[homelanderbutbig]

Sympathy For The Dead (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2145 words. Angst, and a bit of hurt/comfort. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You are forced to come to terms with Homelander's violent tendencies when he murders someone for flirting with you. Inspired by an ask from @adryrivera.

It's early in the morning on the set of 'In Depth With Maria Menounos'. Homelander has an interview scheduled today, and you are accompanying him as his personal assistant. This is the first time you've had this opportunity to come along to one of his functions outside of the Tower, and you're pretty excited. Being on a television production is an entirely different world compared to the mundane office work at Vought, and you're enjoying it even if you're just watching on the sidelines.

When it's time for Homelander to go on-air, you're standing back by the rest of the crew so you can witness your favourite supe work his magic. You smile as he switches on that acting charm when the cameras start rolling, so easily bringing all eyes on him with the suave nature he's perfected over the years. He's such a sight to behold when he's in the spotlight, showcasing that electrifying personality that's as big as he is.

"Don't remember seeing you around here before," a voice suddenly says from behind you. It happens to be one of the cameramen, grinning as he checks you out.

"Oh, yes, I'm Homelander's assistant. Nice to meet you," you politely respond, tucking your clipboard under one arm to shake his hand.

"A supe's assistant huh? That must be an interesting job," he comments, still smirking.

"It's never a dull moment," you laugh, thinking to yourself that he doesn't know the half of it.

"So… you uh, you doing anything later?" he asks, resting his elbow on top of the camera. You're taken aback by his words. Is he… is he asking you out?

"I-I'm sorry, I'm seeing someone," you disclose, perhaps a bit more curtly than you hoped. But all you can think of when hearing that is how pissed Homelander would be at this poor guy.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't realize," he blushes, quickly getting embarrassed by how spectacularly he's struck out.

"Don't worry about it, it's not a problem," you giggle. You can't fault a guy for trying. "Let's just get back to our jobs and forget this happened?"

You're glad he doesn't seem to have taken offense as he nods, letting out a flustered laugh. He returns to operating the camera, and you back to focusing on your clipboard full of the day's scheduling. At least you successfully brushed this situation off, with no harm done.

However, you don't notice Homelander's reaction as he observes this from the midst of his interview.

~~~

After the talk show is done filming, you get caught up talking to Ashley and lose track of time. She's yapping on about Homelander's points and how well this interview went, just more work talk that you could care less about. When you eventually manage to break free, you notice that Homelander is nowhere to be found, having already left the set. But you doubt that he'd leave the building without you so you start your search, happy to tell him how proud you are of his interview.

But you weren't expecting what you find in the downstairs hallway.

You figured he just made a quick getaway because he's always mentioned how much he loathes these mind-numbing talk shows. But instead, you discover his true intentions.

He was following the cameraman.

He kept his pace fast but light, allowing him to go undetected to the man's pathetic human ears. And when he had him isolated in the hallway, he wasted no time letting this worthless, primitive vermin pay for daring to make an advance on you. He lasered a hole straight through his crotch, causing the man to collapse on the ground in agony. He reveled in the look of absolute terror as this worm realized his fate was sealed. He then painstakingly applied pressure to his head, savouring the satisfying crunch of his bones until it was crushed under the supe's boot, leaving nothing but an indistinguishable mess of blood and gore.

You are rooted to the floor, petrified at the sight of what he's done. His head snaps towards you, face twisted with rage and eyes still shining a bright crimson as they stare directly into your soul.

"Come here," you growls at you, raising his hand to signal for you to approach him. He knows you are afraid; he can hear your heart's pace quickening and smell the cortisol levels in your blood spiking. In his mind, he believes you will come to your senses and realize this decision was for the best. You will understand he did this to save you. You are his. You will listen to him. You will obey.

But you don't listen. You only freeze for a second before you turn around and flee. The last thing you hear as you run out of the building is Homelander roaring your name.

~~~

You spend the rest of the day aimlessly traversing the city, paying no attention to where you are going. You needed time alone before you return back to the Tower, before you face Homelander.

It still feels so fresh in your mind. One moment you were chatting with this man, and the next his life is over. In a flash, a human life is snuffed out. Someone with a family, with hopes and dreams. All for what, because he made the fatal error of asking you out on a date?

And the worst sight of all, was the expression on Homelander's face. There was no remorse, no tinge of regret for seeing how you reacted. It was just pure hatred for this man, an absolute stranger. You can't help but wonder how many people he's killed without you knowing.

Finally, the sun begins to set along the city skyline. Night is approaching, and you know you can't simmer on this any longer. You need to confront him, you need answers. Gathering yourself, you catch a taxi back to Vought Tower, and begin your ascent to the penthouse.

With a shaky breath, you step off the elevator once it reaches the top floor and walk briskly inside. However, not in a million years were you expecting what you see in the penthouse. Your lengthy absence clearly took a stronger toll on him than you ever anticipated… he's destroyed the living room. The large American flag tapestry is torn to shreds, adorned with scorch marks from a now extinguished fire. Every single marble statue is cut clean from his laser eyes and smashed to pieces, the gray rubble scattered across the floor. Not even his immaculate leather couch was spared, having been ripped in half by two inhumanly strong hands.

And lastly, in the middle of the chaos, silently sits Homelander on the floor. He's leaning up against the wall, his arms wrapped around his bent-up knees. His face is flushed, eyes bloodshot and puffy from what you can only imagine was a waterfall of tears. Right now he looks like a child trying to huddle himself into a ball because he knows he's in trouble. Yet, you can't help but notice the bloody viscera of the cameraman still coating his boot.

"Why are you here?" he utters abruptly, snapping you back to reality after being overcome by the state of the penthouse. Despite his sad demeanor, his words are blunt and laced with deflection. When you don't answer him, he exhales loudly through his nose. "Why did you come back if you hate me?"

"I don't hate you Homelander," you retort, not taking his bait. You're not sure if that was the answer he was expecting as you watch him tense his jaw.

"Are you mad at me?" he questions you further. You aren't certain if he's fishing for a reason for you to comfort him, or so he can kill you too.

"No. I'm not angry at you," you reply. "But I am disappointed and upset at what you did."

He swallows hard at that, feeling the tears once again well up in his eyes. Disappointed.

"H-he was dangerous… I d-did it to protect you," he mumbles hoarsely. Your unimpressed glower signals to him that you aren't buying his excuses. He knows you aren't going to forgive him, and that's enough to make him hyperventilate. He lowers his head down into his arms, unable to stop himself from crying again. Unable to stop his thoughts from convincing himself that this is how your relationship is going to end.

With a deep sigh, you cross your arms and shake your head at his behaviour. These tears aren't out of sympathy for the dead. You know for a fact that he has no guilt over murdering the cameraman, he's only regretful because he's displeased you.

But the longer you stare at him sobbing so pathetically, the more you start to realize something. You're not looking at the same supe that killed the cameraman; this is Homelander's inner child. This is the boy who was tortured and withheld from love, that had this violence forcibly bred into him. His power over humans was all he had, and now it's so ingrained into his psyche that he cannot stop it from rearing its ugly head.

When he killed the cameraman, he was no longer a man but a dog. He presented his carcass to you as a present, to show you his love in a way you could never comprehend. His love is something feral, that scares everyone else away when it bares its fangs. Yet it has no bite, when deep down his love is never reciprocated, but feared when it becomes too much for the object of his affections to handle.

And as much as it pains you, you know you are going to have to accept this part of him. Because you are the only one who's tamed this dog, and seen the sweet puppy it becomes with just a little compassion.

Methodically, you walk over beside him and place a hand on his arm. Right now with him sitting on the ground you're standing about a foot higher, getting a vantage point you don't experience very often. Hesitantly, he tilts his head up at you. His blue eyes are teeming with apprehension, with the longing for your forgiveness of his actions… even if deep down he knows he doesn't deserve it.

"Hun, I would never let someone else come between us," you soothe him, lifting your hand up from his arm to lightly caress his cheek, saturated with his tears. The second he feels your soft fingers his tension begins to melt away, moving his head up and down to desperately facilitate a pet.

Slowly, Homelander opens up his posture, to allows you to come in between his legs and up to his face. He delicately rests his hands on your waist, waiting for permission to hug you. He can't just take what he wants, not now. He can't bear to make you this unhappy at him ever again.

"And you know what? If I saw somebody flirting with you, I'd get jealous too," you remark, your hands still cupping his face. "But I'm not going to stew on my jealousy until I feel the only solution is violence. I'm going to get those emotions out by talking to you. Because I love you, and I care about you more than anything else."

You steadily come closer to him, spreading your arms across his shoulders to finally give him the hug he's been longing for all day. He wastes no time enveloping you in his hold, burying you in his massive arms as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. Your fingers scratch at the back of his undercut, bringing this dog down to your heels in an instant. Any semblance of rage he may have had earlier in the day has now evaporated into the ether, leaving nothing but the desire for obedience.

"The next time you start to feel yourself getting worked up… wherever you are, can you come find me? Can that be something we work on together?" you ask. His brief nod against your shoulder is enough of an answer, you know he would never lie. And besides, the two of you don't need to say anything else right now. All that's left for today is to let this moment fade into sleep, and let tomorrow be the time to clean up the mess.

While sinking into your embrace, Homelander has his own realization. The way he feels about you is different than his past relationships. You are not his 'property' that he is envious of others ogling. You are his treasure, one that sees the good in him despite all of his own horrible faults. One that he feels he must guard with his entire being.

He is going to be better, if not for himself than just for you.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Sixteen: Wishful Thinking

Chapter WC: 10,811

Chapter Tags/Warnings: minor blood/wound care, major grief/mourning themes

A/N: A lot going on in this one, but I couldn’t stand to break it into two chapters. This is one of the heaviest chapters so far, but also one of the sweetest. Hopefully that makes up for it somewhat!

And just getting it out now that I don’t plan on talking about Satine much in this fic, so please don’t set your hopes too high lol.

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

You’ve never met Duchess Satine Kryze, but she must be a beautiful and formidable woman to have such a hold on Obi-Wan after all these years.

He's always spoken of her with the utmost respect and detachment, but you can sense the truth that lies beneath. It doesn’t surprise you that he's the one who has been sent to Mandalore in the wake of the attack on a Republic cruiser by a Mandalorian saboteur, leaving you in command of the 212th.

It does, however, annoy you.

Though, not in the way you expect. In your youth, you were jealous of her, the thought of Obi-Wan being with another woman had caused an ugly, green-eyed monster to rear its head within you. As time has passed, and especially since your conversation in the gardens, that feeling has faded. Replaced by something else entirely.

Concern.

You've had a bad feeling about the situation on Mandalore ever since Obi-Wan told you about his assignment, and it's one that's been difficult to let go of. Obi-Wan is a good man, an excellent General, a brilliant tactician and negotiator. But as his history with the Duchess, and yourself, has proven, his ability to remain objective when it comes to the safety and welfare of those close to him is sorely lacking.

Your worry is compounded by the fact that the 212th is being called into action. A force of Separatist droids has sprouted up like weeds on Null, a short jump from Mandalore, and the Third Army is being sent to deal with them. As a Jedi, you can't ignore the call to arms, but as a friend, you're hesitant to leave Obi-Wan without the support of the 212th. You can only hope that he will have the clarity of mind to focus on the bigger picture, rather than the smaller, more personal details.

Not that you were unfamiliar with such distractions.

Null is a lush planet, filled with dense tropical forests and dramatic mountain ranges. It's also the home of one of Dooku's many retreats, an extravagant manor built into the side of a mountain, with a sprawling view of the valley and city below. A city that's now crawling with battle droids. An orbital bombardment is out of the question, and the Separatist defenses are proving difficult to penetrate.

So, instead of a quick, clean victory, it's going to be a messy, bloody slog.

You sigh and look down at the tactical display, your brow furrowed. You'd woken early this morning, arriving to the strategy room long before everyone else, and you've spent the past few hours pouring over the reports, trying to come up with a plan of attack. And a plan for how you can get inside the castle and deal with Dooku once and for all.

Yaddle's message is still fresh in your mind, her voice still ringing in your ears. Her words are still etched into your heart. You know what you have to do, and the temptation to do so is growing with each passing day. With each new casualty. With each loss.

But there's still the war to contend with, as well as the possibility of failure. If you attempt to go after Dooku and fail, if he gets the upper hand and kills you, the galaxy will lose a Jedi Master. And if you manage to kill him and survive, you will lose the moral high ground. The Order could brand you a murderer, and that would spell the end for your career, your life, and your friendships. There would be no going back.

No, it's not worth the risk.

At least, not yet.

You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the door slide open behind you, nor do you hear the footsteps approaching. It isn't until Rex clears his throat that you realize he's standing behind you.

You don’t startle, and it should surprise you, but it doesn’t. You're too used to Rex's presence by now, the warmth of his energy in the Force as familiar as the sun rising over Coruscant each morning, and the normal tension that comes with someone stepping into your space is absent. Instead, a sense of calm washes over you. 

Your shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You don't turn around, not yet. You continue staring at the hologram of the valley, letting the feeling settle in.

It's strange. You'd expected this closeness between the two of you to fade once you'd returned to Coruscant. But it hasn't. If anything, it's grown stronger, and it's no longer something that only occurs in the safety of an empty meadow or a darkened hallway, away from the prying eyes of the Jedi Council and the GAR. Now, it's everywhere. In every moment. No matter what the two of you are doing.

You've tried not to read too much into it, tried not to dwell on the implications. But deep down, you know the truth. Rex isn't just a distraction. He's something else, something more.

But you're not ready to admit that. Not yet.

But that doesn't mean that you're not happy to see him.

"Good morning, Rex," you greet him, a hint of amusement in your tone, and you move your fingers across the display, changing the angle of the hologram. "Come to save me from myself?"

"How did you know it was me?" he asks. His voice is low, his tone teasing. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"Don't tell me you were trying to sneak up on me," you tease, glancing over your shoulder and giving him a wry smile.

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "I haven't forgotten what happened the last time I tried."

You smirk, remembering the incident on Felucia. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were holding him at the end of your blade, your eyes locked on his. There's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes now, but the memory still stings. You can still see mark on his pauldron under the layers of blue paint, a reminder of your recklessness, your paranoia.

"Neither have I," you mutter, and then you turn back to the hologram, tilting your head and studying the display. "What brings you here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I’m always the first one here," Rex says. He steps around to the side of the holotable, leaning against the edge. His head tilts as he regards you, his hands behind his back, and his eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail. "You look like you haven't slept."

"I've had a lot on my mind," you admit with a sigh.

A slight frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, his gaze flickering to the table between the two of you, before returning to yours.

"Anything I can help with?" he offers. "Or, are you just trying to show the rest of us up by coming up with the perfect plan before anyone else arrives?"

You chuckle and shake your head, the corner of your mouth turning upwards. "Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid."

"I see," he replies, and a hint of disappointment flashes across his face, before vanishing. He nods at the holotable, and then, hesitates. "Do you...do you want to talk about it? Maybe it'll help. Clear your head."

You pause, considering his offer, and then, decide against it. You can't bring yourself to tell him about Yaddle, about what she said, not yet. Not when the wound is still so raw, so fresh. And while Rex is an exceptional listener, and you know he would offer his full support, you're not ready. Not for the conversation that will inevitably follow. 

So, instead, you give him a grateful smile and shake your head. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

"Alright," he concedes, though he looks unconvinced. 

You're grateful for it. You appreciate his understanding, his willingness to respect your boundaries. It's a relief, really. There's no awkwardness or discomfort. It's natural. Easy. And that's something you've rarely found outside the Jedi Order. Or inside it.

"Well, hopefully this helps, then." 

Rex moves his hand from behind his back and reveals a paper cup with a lid. Steam wafts from the opening, and you immediately recognize the scent of fresh caf. You perk up, your eyes widening.

"Is that...?"

"Freshly brewed?" he finishes as he sets it on the holotable in front of you. "Yep."

“For me?” you ask, even as you reach for it, wrapping your hands around the cup and reveling in the heat. You lift the cup to your nose and inhale deeply, the smell sending a shiver down your spine. “Really?”

Rex chuckles and shrugs, lifting up his own cup to his mouth. “Oh, well I was going to give it to Cody, but…”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen, and he smirks before taking a sip, the teasing glint in his eyes telling you he's enjoying your reaction. You roll your eyes, and a soft laugh escapes your lips, your cheeks warming.

“But you like me more?” you challenge, and Rex snorts, nearly spilling his caf. He covers his mouth and swallows hard, shaking his head at you as you raise an eyebrow at him. "That's what you're going to say, right?"

"Yeah," he rasps, clearing his throat. He sets his cup on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sure. That."

"Good," you say, smiling sweetly at him. You raise your cup to him in a salute. "Because I like you more than Cody, too."

“I heard that.” 

You both straighten and turn as Cody strides into the room, a datapad in his hand, and the two of you exchange a sheepish look. You feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach, and Rex lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

Cody raises his eyebrow as he walks around the holotable, glancing between the two of you. He looks like he's about to say something, but then shakes his head, his expression softening, and he turns to the display.

"What are we looking at?" he asks.

"A nest," Rex replies, his voice gruff, and he crosses his arms over his chest, any trace of amusement gone.

You're surprised at his sudden change in demeanor, and a part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the other part, the one that's still slightly worried about being caught fraternizing, even if it's Cody, stops you. Instead, you nudge Rex with your elbow, giving him one last smile before you go over to stand beside the commander.

As you move, you take the first sip of your caf. You brace yourself for the bitter taste, but it doesn’t come. In fact, it tastes almost exactly like how you prefer to prepare it for yourself. You can’t help the noise of surprise that escapes you, and you eagerly take another sip.

Rex watches you from the corner of his eye, his mouth quirking into a half-smile, before turning back to the display.

Cody doesn't miss the exchange. His eyebrows raise, a curious look on his face, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he points to the map on the holotable.

"So, a nest, huh?" he asks. "And what kind of bird are we hunting?"

"A Krayt dragon," Rex says, and you snort, earning a glare from the captain. He huffs and continues, "A squadron of vulture droids, most likely from Count Dooku's estate, launched an attack on the nearby city and decimated the local forces. They're holed up in the surrounding mountains, and they're not giving up easily."

"Dooku's estate, you said," Cody repeats, and a thoughtful look crosses his face. "We'll have to deal with that later."

"Yes, we will," you mutter. He hums in return, and the three of you stand in silence, studying the display. The battle droids are well fortified, their numbers impressive, and you have a feeling that it's going to be a difficult fight.

You take another sip of your caf, savoring the rich flavor, and the caffeine courses through your veins, sending a jolt of energy through your body. It's enough to wake you up and sharpen your focus, and you can't help but smile. You look over at Rex and nod, mouthing a silent 'thank you'.

He ducks his head and turns away, but you can see the color rising in his cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He lifts his hand to his face, scratching the back of his head, and you have to stifle a laugh.

The doors slide open, and Anakin and the rest of the battalion's commanding officers file in, filling the room with a low murmur of voices. As they take their places around the holotable, Rex ends up next to you again. 

"You're welcome," he murmurs, his mouth barely moving. He doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the map, but his arm brushes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

You hide your smile behind your cup, warmth blooming in your chest, and you take a moment to bask in the sensation before you shift, putting some distance between the two of you. The last thing you need is for someone else to notice the tension between the two of you, especially now that the room is full.

You're not ready to explain this...whatever it is, to anyone.

"Alright, everyone," Anakin calls, clapping his hands together. He steps forward and leans over the holotable, examining the map. "Let's get started."

The meeting passes quickly, and before long, the two of you are walking side by side through the corridors toward the hangar bay. The troops have already begun boarding the transport ships, and the hum of engines fills the air. Rex is at ease, his stride relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. You, on the other hand, are anything but.

Your feet are dragging, a heaviness weighing on your shoulders that grows with every step. You're exhausted, and the thought of another battle, another confrontation, makes you want to curl up and sleep for days. The stress is beginning to wear on you, and the lack of a good night's sleep isn't helping. 

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is your chance. That this is the opportunity you've been waiting for. To finally confront Dooku.

"So," Rex begins slowly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Is there any way I can convince you not to go on this mission?"

You huff a laugh, and you shake your head. "I wish."

"I had a feeling," he sighs, and his gaze returns to the corridor ahead. "You have that look on your face. Like you're ready to jump out of an airlock."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes," he tells you. He stops, turning to face you, and he rests his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes gently, and you find yourself leaning into it, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your collarbone as he leans forward, his gaze softening. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him, and a half-smile tugs at your lips. "Don't worry about me."

"You say that," he chuckles, his tone rueful, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. His eyes search yours, and the humor fades. "But I do. And I know something's wrong."

"I..." You start, but stop, biting your lip. You take a deep breath and look away, your heart hammering in your chest. "I don't know what to tell you."

"You can tell me the truth," he says gently. He tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze. "What's going on? Are you...is it the nightmares?"

"It's not that," you sigh, and you rub the back of your neck, your eyes drifting towards the floor. 

You don't want to lie to him, not anymore, but you're not sure what to say. The truth is, it's more than just the nightmares. It's everything. The war, the Order, your past, your future. You've been struggling with it all, and it's getting harder and harder to keep it together. To maintain control. To hide your emotions. To ignore the growing desire for justice, vengeance, satisfaction. 

You let out a shaky breath and shake your head. "It's just...a lot."

"Yeah," he nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and then clears his throat. "Can I...is there anything I can do?"

"Not this time," you answer, a sad smile on your face. "But thank you."

"Alright," he sighs, resigned. Rex drops his hand and looks around, taking in the bustle of the hangar bay. His eyes linger on the transport ships, a distant look on his face. "You think we have a chance?"

"At taking out the vulture droids or taking out Dooku?" you ask, and his gaze returns to you. He offers you a wry grin.

"Either. Both."

You shrug. "I think we'll be fine. As long as we stick to the plan and work together, we should have no problem destroying the droids. As for Dooku..."

"Yeah, that's the hard part, isn't it?" he chuckles, and you nod, the corner of your mouth pulling into a small smile.

"It is," you agree. "But with a little luck, we might be able to capture him."

"Right," he says, rolling his eyes. "Luck."

"Well, we have to stay positive, don't we?" you tease, nudging his shoulder. He chuckles and shakes his head, and the two of you share a smile. It fades quickly, however, replaced by a somber expression.

He glances around, making sure no one's paying attention, before stepping closer. His gaze meets yours, and there's a seriousness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He opens his mouth, then closes it, hesitating, before trying again.

"What would you do if we did?" he asks quietly. "If we had him."

"I..." you start, but then trail off, considering the question. You don't have an answer. Not one you can speak aloud. There are so many conflicting emotions, so many feelings, swirling inside you, and it's hard to separate them. To pick out the right ones. The good ones. The ones that matter.

But underneath all of that, buried beneath the surface, is something else. A burning desire for revenge. For justice. And it's a desire that you're struggling to contain, to control. Every day, it grows stronger, demanding release, demanding action And every day, you deny it. Ignore it. Push it down. But it never goes away. Never disappears.

And it's becoming harder and harder to keep it in check.

Now, you're afraid that if you do catch Dooku, you won't be able to hold back. That you'll lash out and do something terrible, something unforgivable.

You've never admitted that to anyone, not even Obi-Wan. You know he's under the impression that you've released most of the darkest parts of yourself into the Force, but that's far from the truth. You can't help it. You're only human, after all. 

And like any other human, you're capable of horrible, terrible, things. You know that better than most.

 But Rex...he might understand. He's seen first-hand what Dooku is capable of, the pain he's caused. If anyone could understand, it would be him.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and he stares back, his expression solemn, his brow furrowed. He doesn't pressure you, doesn't push, just waits patiently, giving you time.

"I don't know," you finally answer, and the lie burns your tongue, the words coming out thick and heavy. You swallow hard and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You can tell me," he says softly. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing yourself to smile.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's good."

There's an awkward silence between the two of you, and you stare at the ground, unsure of what to say. You can sense his eyes on you, and the intensity makes your stomach twist. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and a chill runs down your spine. You cross your arms, rubbing your palms up and down your sleeves.

"Just..." 

You take a shaky breath and raise your head, meeting his gaze. His expression is gentle, kind, and it helps. It gives you the courage to continue.

"Just stay close to me, okay?" you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat and force a smile, and it hurts. Everything hurts. Your chest is tight, your throat dry. "Please."

Rex's frown deepens, and he opens his mouth to reply, but he's cut off by a voice echoing down the hallway.

"Rex! Where are you? We're ready to launch!"

He sighs and looks away, running a hand over his head. "I gotta go."

"I know," you tell him, swallowing past the lump your throat. You take a step forward and reach for him, resting your hand on his arm. "Be careful out there, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

He scoffs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he looks down at you. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," you tease.

"I'm always careful," he retorts, and the two of you exchange a knowing look. You squeeze his arm and let go, stepping back, and his eyes linger on yours.

"Rex!" the voice calls again, more insistent.

"Go," you say. "Before Fives comes looking for you."

Rex smirks, and then gives you a nod. He turns and strides down the hall, and you watch him go, your heart aching, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

You can't name it, can't put a word to it. It's not quite worry, not quite fear, not quite sadness. But it's all of those things, and more. A feeling of loss, maybe. Or regret. Or guilt.

Rex reaches the end of the corridor, and he turns, glancing back at you. You give him a small wave, forcing a smile, and his gaze lingers, his eyes searching yours. Then, he turns, and he's gone.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, staring after him.

Dread.

The feeling is dread.

Null, 21 BBY

An explosion rattles the ground beneath your feet, and you dive for cover, the deafening sound of blaster fire echoing around you. You roll behind a pile of rubble and lean against the stone, catching your breath. Across the dust-filled courtyard, Rex is hunkered down behind a broken statue, his blasters in his hands.

You lock eyes with him and he nods, holding up his hand, the signal to wait. You nod back and turn, peering around the edge of the stones, looking for an opening. The courtyard is crawling with battle droids, their laser fire tearing through the air, and it's impossible to tell where the droids end and the Republic troops begin.

A clone runs past, his armor streaked with blood, and a battle droid lunges out of the smoke, grabbing him. You reach out, calling upon the Force, and the droid flies through the air, slamming into a wall. The clone stares at you, and then nods, rushing back into the fray.

Another explosion rocks the courtyard, and the ground trembles, chunks of stone and dirt falling from the sky. You grit your teeth and push off the ground, leaping to the top of the rubble, your lightsabers igniting. A storm of bolts comes flying at you, and you deflect them, sending them back at the droids.

"General!"

You glance over your shoulder, and a squad of clones come running towards you, their weapons raised. They're led by Waxer, and they're covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise unharmed.

"Waxer, nice of you to finally join us," you shout, and the clones laugh, ducking behind the debris.

"Well, we couldn't leave our General hanging, now could we?" he retorts. He peers around the stones, scanning the courtyard, and then looks back at you. "Commander said you were having a rough time, thought we could give you a hand."

"How kind of him," you deadpan. You jump off the rocks, landing next to the clones, and you take a deep breath, letting the Force flow through you. Your skin tingles, and your muscles tense. The world around you slows to a standstill as your heart beats faster, pounding against your chest. You can see every detail, every movement, every particle.

"Any sign of Dooku?" Waxer asks.

You grit your teeth. The Force ripples around you, telling you what you already suspected from the moment you landed on Null. Dooku is gone, if he ever was here. Another lie. Another dead end. Another wasted opportunity.

"He's not here."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," you grunt, and everything comes rushing back. The sound, the smell, the taste of smoke and blood and sweat. It's overwhelming, but it's familiar, and your senses adjust quickly, settling back into their normal rhythm. "Looks like this is a vacation home, not a military base."

"Great," he sighs. He raises his blaster and fires, taking out a pair of battle droids before ducking back behind cover. "Well, at least the vultures are taken care of."

"That's one good thing, I guess." You crouch beside him, your brow furrowed, exhaustion tugging at your limbs. "Now, we just have to clean up this mess."

Rex darts across the courtyard, his blasters firing, and a stream of red light follows his movements. He slides to a stop beside you, and he leans against the rubble, his chest heaving. His helmet tilts towards you, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Good to see you, General," he pants.

"You, too," you reply, giving him a tired smile.

"Did we miss anything?"

"Not really," Waxer tells him. "We were just about to start mopping up."

The three of you look over at the troopers now pouring into the courtyard in a sea of blue and orange, their numbers quickly overwhelming the droids. It's a chaotic scene, with blaster bolts flying through the air and smoke filling the space, but the tide has clearly turned in the Republic's favor.

"Come on, then," you say, and you rise, stretching. Your muscles ache, and your knees protest, but you ignore them. "Let's get this done."

You turn and lead the way, jumping into the fray.  Within minutes, the last of the battle droids fall, their smoking corpses littering the ground. You stand in the middle of the carnage, surveying the damage. There are scorch marks everywhere, bodies strewn across the stones, pieces of broken droids scattered about.

It's a mess, but it could have been worse.

Much worse.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, centering yourself. You deactivate your lightsabers and tuck them into your belt, a weary smile on your face. It's over. Finally. You'd been fighting for hours, and you're ready to rest.

"Good work, everyone," you call out, raising your voice so it can be heard above the din. "I think we're done here."

There's a loud cheer, and the troops start gathering their gear, cleaning up the battlefield. Rex approaches you, and the two of you stand together, watching the men work.

Rex lets out a loud sigh, and he takes his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his brow. His blond hair is matted with dirt, and his face is covered in grime. He glances over at you, and his eyes crinkle with a tired smile.

"Well, that was a fun morning," he chuckles, and the clones in the near vicinity laugh at the quip. Waxer gives him a good-natured slap on the back as he walks by, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," you retort, and his smile widens.

He turns and gestures to the castle looming in the distance. "Do we still want to take a look around?"

"We might as well," you say, shrugging. "It's not like we're going to get a chance like this again."

Rex nods and pulls out his commlink, tapping a button. A voice crackles to life, and he begins issuing orders, the clones splitting off into teams and heading towards the estate. He watches them go, and then he looks over at you, nodding.

"Ready when you are."

You take a deep breath and begin walking, Rex falling into step beside you. The estate is sprawling, a series of towers and spires rising up from the valley floor. It's surrounded by a high stone wall, and you can see turrets peeking out from the battlements. You've never seen a more dreary, impenetrable fortress.

The main doors are open, and a squad is standing guard, their weapons raised. As you draw nearer to the entrance, a sense of anticipation settles over you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. 

Your hand drifts towards your lightsaber, and your fingers tighten around the hilt. You can sense something, but you can't put your finger on it. An energy, an electricity, a presence, but it's faint, just out of reach. Something inside you wants to run, either away or toward, and you can't tell which.

You hear a grunt beside you, and you glance at Rex. His face is pinched, and for the first time you notice him limping, his left leg dragging a bit behind his right. Concern flares inside you, and you stop, turning towards him.

"You're hurt," you accuse, and his eyes widen, his jaw clenching.

"I'm fine," he insists, but his voice is strained, and the pain is clear in his eyes. You shake your head and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop. Whatever is behind those doors can wait.

"Rex, what's wrong?" you ask, and he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Just a little bruised," he admits. 

You arch an eyebrow, gesturing to his leg. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," he insists. "I'll be fine."

"Uh huh," you murmur. You step closer and lean forward into his space, looking into his eyes. He avoids your gaze, his cheeks reddening, and you narrow your eyes, sensing the truth. "Rex."

"What?" he grumbles.

"You should see a medic."

"I will," he promises, and his eyes dart over to the others, before returning to yours. "Later."

"Liar," you grin, and his lips twitch. You roll your eyes.

The two of you watch as the troopers file into the estate, disappearing from sight. When they're gone, he lets out a breath and looks at you, the tension in his body easing. You're grateful for the quiet, the stillness, the opportunity to collect yourself.

But it's also a relief to have him all to yourself, without the constant pressure of the others, the expectations and attention. And you can tell he feels the same.

"I am a liar," he admits sheepishly. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, a shy smile spreading across his face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Maybe," you tease, and his grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Sit down. I'll take a look at it."

"You don't have to," he starts, but you shake your head, cutting him off.

"No arguing. Sit."

Rex grumbles but does as you say, letting you lead him over to the half-shattered fountain in the center of the courtyard, the water long gone. He lowers himself to the ground, hissing in pain, and you kneel beside him. Together, you remove the armor from his leg, setting it aside. The fabric of his bodysuit is torn, and underneath is a nasty-looking gash, a mixture of dirt and dried blood caking his skin.

You bite your lip, worry bubbling inside you. You've seen worse, much worse, but there's something about seeing him hurt that makes your heart clench. You know you're being irrational, that the injury isn't serious, and that the medics will be able to treat him. Still, it hurts. To see him in pain. To feel his pain.

"It's not that bad," he mutters. He's looking down at you, his brow furrowed, and he gives you a reassuring smile. "Honest."

"Uh huh," you say, unconvinced, and he huffs a laugh. You reach out, tentatively, your hand hovering over his leg. "This might sting."

"I can handle it," he tells you. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked grin. "Probably."

You roll your eyes and move your hand closer, your fingers gently brushing the swollen skin. Rex sucks in a breath through his teeth, and you wince as you're hit with a jolt of his pain, sharp and sudden.

You breathe deep, steadying yourself, and then you press your hand fully against the wound, letting the Force flow through you into him.

You're far from adept in the healing arts, one of many weaknesses in your skill set, and you're no healer, but you can do this much. It's not a particularly complex injury. The tissue needs to be repaired, the pain reduced, and if you syphon some of your own energy, it's not as difficult as it seems. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

Still, it's not easy. The injury is larger than you thought, and the pain is intense. Rex tenses underneath your touch, his leg twitching, and you can hear his teeth grinding. His jaw is clenched so tightly, you fear his teeth might crack. You blindly reach up with your opposite hand and rest it on his knee, trying to steady him.

"Easy," you murmur. His hand settles on top of yours, your fingers intwining. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, his thumb stroking your knuckles. "Almost done. Just breathe."

"Right," he says, his voice strained. He lets out a shaky breath and nods. "Keep going."

You let out a breath of your own, and you continue the work, draining your energy into him. After a few more moments, the wound is closed, the pain reduced, and you withdraw your hand, pulling back the fabric to examine the newly healed skin. It's a little pink and raw, but it'll do. He'll need proper medical attention, but for now, it'll keep him on his feet.

"There," you say, and Rex lets out a soft groan, the tension in his body fading. He looks down at the wound, and he turns his leg side to side, admiring your handiwork. "Good as new."

"Wow," he breathes. "That's...impressive."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great, aren't I?" you tease.

"Yeah," he nods. His hand is still holding yours, his fingers lightly tracing your knuckles. "You are."

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and your cheeks warm, your heart skipping a beat. You swallow hard, and you give him a weak smile, trying not to read too much into his words.

"Thanks," you murmur. You let go of his hand and sit back, and he sighs, his eyes never leaving yours. You shift under his gaze, unsure of what to do, or say, and then, his expression changes, his head tilting.

"Why don't you do that more often?" he asks, and you frown, confused. He gestures to his leg. "Heal."

"Oh," you reply, just as a wave of exhaustion washes over you. You try to suppress a yawn and fail. "It's not something I like to advertise. I'd rather not burn myself out."

Rex raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. You hesitate, biting your lip. It's not something you're proud of, and it's not something you talk about often, but for some reason, you feel compelled to share.

"I'm not particularly skilled in the healing arts," you admit. You look away, your brow furrowing. "Some can draw on the Living Force, use its power to heal others. I can't."

"But you did just now," he points out carefully.

"I did," you acknowledge, and a wry smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You turn and meet his gaze. "But it took a lot out of me, and I don't mean that metaphorically. If I'm not careful, if I'm not prepared, it could kill me."

Rex's eyes widen, and a look of panic flashes across his face. His hands clench into fists, and he shakes his head, scowling.

"Don't ever do that," he orders, and you chuckle. "Seriously. Don't. Not for me."

"If I didn't, you would have been laid up in the infirmary for a week," you tell him, trying to sound casual, but your tone is anything but. Your words come out more harshly than intended, a bit more bitter. "Besides, I wanted to. You're worth it."

Rex stares at you, stunned, a flicker of something passing over his features. Surprise? Confusion? A hint of fear? You're not sure, but it makes your stomach twist, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your gut. You swallow hard, resisting the urge to look away.

"You shouldn't have," he tells you, shaking his head. "You could have-"

"But I didn't," you interrupt, and he sighs, the corners of his mouth turning down. You stand and brush the dirt and debris from your robes, clearing your throat. "And if you ever tell anyone I did that, I'll deny it. Got it?"

Rex snorts, the scowl vanishing, and slowly rises to his feet, testing his weight on his injured leg. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, his neck cracking, and then he nods. "Got it."

"Good," you huff. 

You watch as he reattaches his armor, your arms crossed over your chest. He seems to have forgotten about the estate, about the mission, his mind on other things. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes distant, and you can't help but wonder what he's thinking. What he's feeling. Whether or not he's upset with you. With himself.

You know you've worried him, that he's afraid of what might have happened, but you don't regret it. Not one bit. He needed your help, and you gave it. It's as simple as that. Besides, you're a Jedi, aren't you? Isn't this what the Order teaches? That compassion and generosity are the most important aspects of your duty, your life?

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your head, a voice telling you that what you did was selfish. That you did it for yourself, not for him. That you did it because you care about him, because you can't stand the thought of him being hurt.

And, the truth is, it is. It is selfish, it is reckless. 

You're not a healer, not really. You don't know how to channel the Living Force, how to heal the wounded, or cure the sick. You only know how to take, how to absorb the pain and suffering of others and give something of yourself in return, and you've never done more than a handful of healing sessions in your life. You're a warrior, not a physician. 

And yet, here you are, playing medic, because it's Rex. Because you can't help yourself.

Rex finishes buckling his armor and looks at you, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, and a moment passes between the two of you. An understanding. A realization. Something is changing, something fundamental, and neither of you knows what to do about it. But you don't need to. Not yet.

"Listen," he starts, his voice soft. "I—"

"Sir!"

The two of you flinch, startled, and you turn towards the source of the voice, your hand drifting towards your lightsaber. Fives and Echo are jogging across the courtyard, their blasters raised. You relax, and Rex lets out a sigh, running a hand over his head.

"Yes?" he calls.

"General," Fives pants, and he skids to a stop, his helmet under his arm. "Sorry to interrupt, but we found something."

"What is it?" Rex asks, frowning. 

Fives glances at you, and a grim expression settles on his face. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes darting between the two of you.

"It's...just come see."

Rex nods, and he gestures for Fives to lead the way. The trooper hurries off, and you follow, Rex at your side. The four of you weave through the rubble toward the castle, Fives and Echo in the lead, Rex and you a few steps behind. You feel a chill creep up your spine, a sense of unease filling you, and your hand rests on your lightsaber, your thumb brushing against the hilt.

As the doors loom overhead, Rex looks over his shoulder and meets your gaze. You shake your head, a silent warning, and he nods, his expression hardening.

Whatever it is, it's not good.

You pass through the archway and into the darkened hall. The interior is massive, a high vaulted ceiling overhead, with ornate columns rising from the floor to the roof. The walls are lined with marble, and the floor is polished black stone. There are statues lining the walls, and they look like they were once pristine, but now they're covered in soot, and chunks of the ceiling have fallen, smashing the art. The place smells like smoke and death.

"This way," Echo says, gesturing to the left. The group turns and heads down the hallway, your footsteps echoing around you.

As you move deeper into the castle, the air becomes thicker, the smell of smoke and dust growing stronger. The hallways narrow, and the walls become rougher, the marble replaced by stone. Torches flicker along the walls, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Your uneasiness only compounds the further you walk, and a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You're starting to feel sick, the sensation only growing stronger with each step.

You glance over at Rex to find him already watching you, his brow furrowed. He slows, letting the others get a few paces ahead, and he leans towards you, his voice low.

"What is it?" he asks. "Do you sense something?"

"I do," you whisper. You rub your temples, your eyes drifting closed. "But I can't put my finger on it. It's..."

"What?" he prompts.

"Dark," you say. "Very dark."

"Shit," he breathes. His hand reaches out, hovering near your shoulder, as if he wants to comfort you, but he hesitates. "Do you want to go back?"

"No," you murmur. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. "I'll be fine."

"Alright," he says, though the worry remains in his eyes. He steps back, putting a little distance between the two of you, and he nods towards the others. "Let's catch up."

You nod, and the two of you resume walking, following the clones through the gloom. The air is getting colder, the scent of smoke growing stronger, and you can hear a low hissing sound, like gas escaping from a broken pipe. You grit your teeth, doing your best to ignore it. Whatever it is, whatever is making you feel so ill, it's coming from up ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, the four of you come to a stop outside a massive wooden door, and Fives looks back at Rex, gesturing towards the handle. The captain nods, and the trooper takes a deep breath, reaching for the knob.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No," you answer, and the three of them chuckle, the sound echoing around you.

Fives nods and pulls the door open, and a wave of cold air rushes out, blowing through your hair and making the torches flicker. You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin, and a lump forms in your throat.

There's a long, winding staircase leading down into the darkness. The walls are covered in soot, and the stones are slick with ice. The air is frigid, and your breath mists in front of your face. You can hear the sound of dripping water, and the scent of dampness and decay fills the air.

"I don't like this," Fives mutters, and Echo grunts in agreement.

Rex looks over at you, and a wry grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think, General?"

"It's creepy as hell," you deadpan.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he chuckles, and he steps forward, placing his foot on the first step. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."

You follow him into the stairwell, and the rest of the squad falls in line behind you, the four of you descending into the darkness. The light from the torches quickly fades, and the only sound is the scrape of your boots against the ice-covered stone, and the occasional drip of water.

The further you go, the worse the feeling gets, and the air grows colder, the smell of rotting wood and mold invading your nose. You feel like you can't breathe, like there's a hand gripping your throat, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"You sure you're alright?" Rex asks quietly. He doesn't turn to look at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the steps, his fingers gripping the railing.

"No," you murmur, and he frowns, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"Do you want to go back?" he asks.

"Not unless you do," you reply. "It's just..."

"Yeah," he agrees, nodding.

The stairs eventually level out, and the path opens into a cavernous chamber, the ceiling soaring high above your head. The walls are covered in stalactites, and the ground is slick with ice. You can't see beyond your hand, and you stumble forward, your foot sliding out from under you.

"Easy," Rex murmurs, grabbing your arm, steadying you.

"Thanks," you grunt, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings. You draw your sabers, the yellow blades illuminating the room, and you hear the sound of the others' flashlights flicking on, the beams of light dancing around the space.

"What the hell is this place?" Fives asks. His voice is hushed, but it echoes around you, the silence deafening.

"I don't know," Rex whispers. He lets go of your arm and walks forward, his eyes scanning the room. You stay close, not wanting to lose him in the darkness. "It looks like some sort of dungeon, or..."

"A tomb," you finish, and he looks back at you, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah," he agrees. "It does."

You step forward, your gaze sweeping the area. The ceiling is high, the walls covered in icicles. The ground is smooth, with a layer of ice coating it, and you can see a path leading deeper into the cavern. You feel a tug, a pull, and your pulse quickens.

"Rex," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says. He follows your gaze, and he sighs, his expression grim. "I know."

You nod and begin moving forward, the others falling in line behind you. Your footsteps are muffled by the ice, and the air grows colder, a chill settling over the room. The light from your sabers doesn't seem to reach the walls, and the darkness presses in on you, like a living, breathing thing.

"General," Echo says, his voice low. "You don't think this is a trap, do you?"

"I don't know." You shrug, and the three clones let out a chorus of sighs. You turn and look back at them, arching an eyebrow. "If it is, it's not a very good one."

"True," Fives agrees. "Maybe Dooku isn't as smart as we thought."

"Or, maybe he's playing a different game," Rex says, his tone grim. He glances at you, his eyes lingering on yours. "Just...be ready."

"Always," you assure him.

You continue through the cave, the air growing colder, the ice thickening beneath your feet. The path twists and turns, and the ceiling lowers, until you have to duck to avoid the icicles hanging above.

Finally, the path opens into another large chamber, and you come to a stop, taking in the sight before you. The ground is littered with debris, chunks of stone and rubble scattered around the space. A row of unlit torches lines the walls, and you can see a series of steps leading down into the center of the room, the ground cracked and broken.

And there, in the middle of the chaos, is a pedestal.

You frown, stepping forward. There's something on top of the pedestal, but it's too far away to see clearly. You reach the edge of the broken ground, and you stop, peering down.

"What is that?" you murmur.

Rex comes up beside you, his brow furrowed. "Looks like a...box."

Your blood runs cold, and you turn, your hand twisting. The torches ignite, filling the room with light, and you see the box, the ornate wood gleaming in the torchlight. Its surface is scorched and dented, and it's covered in ash, but there's no mistaking it.

"Get out," you say, your voice hoarse.

"What?" Fives asks. "But we—"

"Get out!" you shout, and they flinch, stumbling backwards. "Now!"

Rex hesitates, his eyes darting from the box to your face, and you stare at him, your hands clenched into fists, the blood roaring in your ears. After a moment, he nods, and he raises his hand, signaling the others to fall back.

"Yes, sir," Fives murmurs, and he turns and begins marching back the way you came. Echo gives you a long look, his eyes lingering on yours, and then he, too, retreats. Rex doesn't move, and you turn, glaring at him.

"Go," you order.

"You told me to stay close to you, remember?" he retorts, and his voice is laced with anger, his jaw clenched. "Well, I am. And I'm not leaving."

You sigh, a headache building behind your eyes, and you shake your head. "Rex, I—"

"No," he growls. "Don't. Don't push me away."

"It's not—"

"You're not going through this alone."

"But—"

"I don't care."

His voice echoes around the chamber, and you swallow hard, the air rushing from your lungs. You stare at him, at his unwavering determination, his absolute refusal to back down, and a part of you wants to push him, wants to shove him away and send him back to the others. He's disobeying your orders, he's questioning your authority, and you should be angry. You should be furious.

But instead, you feel relieved.

You turn back towards the pedestal, the box gleaming in the flickering light, and a cold weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

"Alright," you sigh, deactivating your sabers and shoving them into their holsters. "Fine."

Rex's expression softens, and he reaches for you, his hand settling on your shoulder. You lean into him, his warmth comforting, and he squeezes gently.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

You nod, and the two of you begin the descent, slowly making your way down the broken path. The ground is slick with ice, and your feet slide a few times, Rex's grip on your shoulder tightening to keep you from falling. You finally reach the bottom, and you approach the pedestal, a lump forming in your throat.

You stand over the box, and you run your fingers along the surface. It's warm, and there's a faint vibration, the Force humming with energy.

"What is it?" Rex asks, his voice quiet.

"It's..." You trail off, and you swallow hard. "It's what I found when I went out that night."

He frowns, and then recognition dawns on his face, and his eyes widen. "You mean when you were attacked?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Rex is silent, and you stare at the box, a wave of emotion welling up inside you. Anger, sadness, grief. They mix together, churning in your stomach, and you clench your fists, the nails digging into your palms. You can feel the darkness swirling around you, a miasma of pain and fury, and it threatens to drown you. But you can't look away, can't turn your back.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs.

"Yes," you repeat, and the word comes out thick, the tears burning hot. "I'm sure."

"Then, it's him," Rex whispers, his voice laced with sympathy. He steps closer, his hand settling on your back, his thumb rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Isn't it?"

"It is."

You reach out and place your hand on the lid, and the wood is smooth and cool under your fingertips. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and then, with a single, smooth motion, you lift the lid. The hinges creak, the sound echoing around the chamber, and a cloud of dust swirls in the air.

The inside of the box is lined with a velvet material, the fabric faded and worn. The scrap of her robe is still there, along with the datapad, but that isn't what makes your heart seize in your chest. 

It's the lightsaber.

You recognize it immediately, the sleek, silver hilt a stark contrast against the crimson fabric. It's the same design, the same length, the same width. You've seen it a hundred times, a thousand, more than you can count. But the last time you saw it, it was in her hands, a blaze of green light. Now, it sits, cold and lifeless, and the ache inside you only grows.

And when you reach out, your fingers brushing the blade, the hum that vibrates up your arm is unmistakable. The same hum, the same vibration, the same power. Her power.

"Is that..." Rex breathes, his eyes wide.

"Yes," you choke out, the tears spilling over.

You can feel his presence behind you, his energy warm and steady. But even his strength can't shield you from the anguish that bubbles up inside you, a deep, primal wound reopening. It's a wound you've spent the past ten years ignoring, pushing aside, burying deep, but now it's tearing you apart, the pain consuming you.

Your hand encloses around the hilt, pulling it to your chest. The metal is cold, and you can feel the steady, rhythmic pulse of the kyber crystal inside, a faint echo of her Force signature. It's been so long since you've felt her presence. Since you've been able to sense her power, her wisdom, her kindness.

It's like a knife to the heart, the wound reopened, bleeding anew.

Rex's hand grips your shoulder, a comforting weight, but the sorrow is a tidal wave, drowning you. It's all too much. The memories, the guilt, the regret. They crash over you, threatening to drag you under, and a sob tears from your lips. You're falling, the darkness consuming you, the void swallowing you whole. You're spiraling out of control, the pain overwhelming, and you can't stop it, can't hold it back. All you can do is cling to the hilt, to her weapon, and hope she can forgive you.

But as you fall to your knees, Rex is there. His arms wrap around you before you can hit the ground, a cry ripping from your throat, and the two of you sink down together, your head pressed against his shoulder.

You bury your face in his neck, the tears flowing freely, your body trembling. His hand finds yours, the one holding her lightsaber, and he entwines his fingers with yours, his other arm tightening around your waist. He's whispering something, his voice soft and soothing, but you can't make out the words, can't focus on anything but the pain. And as Rex holds you, your face pressed against his neck, you let go.

You let the emotions wash over you, the grief and the agony and the remorse. You let the darkness consume you, and you let yourself feel the pain. Because this is what she would have wanted. This is what she would have told you.

To let go. To release the past. To find peace.

So, that's what you do. For the first time in ten years, you let yourself mourn.

You mourn the loss of her, the emptiness in your life, the absence of her guidance, her friendship. You mourn the future that could have been, the bond the two of you shared. The connection that was severed, the wound that will never heal.

It's the most painful thing you've ever experienced, and the agony is a physical thing, clawing at your chest, tearing through your heart. It's the most intense emotion you've ever felt, and it's excruciating, but you don't pull away. You don't hide from it. Instead, you cling to Rex, his arms a steady, reassuring weight around you, and you let yourself feel it. All of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, your voice muffled against his armor. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice strained, and his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you tighter against him. "It's not your fault."

"I couldn't...I wasn't...I tried to..." You can't get the words out, can't form a coherent sentence, and your head throbs, the pain blinding. "I couldn't save her."

"You did everything you could," he says. "You didn't fail her. You didn't fail anyone."

You want to believe him, to let his words soothe the ache, but the sorrow is overwhelming, the guilt crushing. And, even as you cry, a part of you feels guilty for showing him this side of you. For letting him see the weakness, the vulnerability. But the truth is, you've been weak for a long time, and he's been there every step of the way.

He's seen your worst, and yet, he's stayed.

"I miss her," you sob, the tears burning hot. "I just..."

"I know," he breathes. His cheek presses against the top of your head, his fingers stroking your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You don't know how long you sit there in the icy cavern, Rex's arms wrapped around you. You cry until there are no tears left, until the sobs turn to hiccups, and the hiccups turn to shuddering breaths. And all the while, Rex is there, his grip never loosening, his voice never wavering.

When the last of the tears have dried, you slump against him. Your body feels heavy, drained, and the lightsaber is a dead weight in your hand, the cold metal leeching what little warmth you have left.

You lift your head, and Rex's gaze meets yours. You're surprised to see his eyes are wet too, his lashes clumped together. His nostrils flare, and he lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure. He gives you a weak smile, and you swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat.

"Thank you," you finally manage, and the words come out thick, the tears welling again. "I...I don't know what to say. I didn't expect—"

"Hey," he murmurs as his thumbs wipe away the tears, his touch gentle. "You don't have to say anything. I understand."

You nod, and he pulls you against him, his head resting on top of yours. The two of you fall into another silence, your arms wrapped around each other, the lightsaber clasped tightly in your fist.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps fills the cavern, and you hear the others calling out, their voices echoing around you. Rex pulls away, and he looks over his shoulder, watching as the troopers approach. His body shields you from view, protecting your privacy, and a wave of gratitude washes over you.

"Not yet," he says, his voice stern, and the footsteps stop, hesitating. "We need a few minutes."

"General," Fives calls. "Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Rex answers for you.

"Are you sure? We heard crying."

"She's fine," he repeats, his voice hardening. "Just...give us a minute."

You close your eyes, exhaustion tugging at your limbs, and you rest your head on Rex's shoulder, letting the sounds of his voice soothe you. The others are talking, whispering amongst themselves, but you can't make out the words. You're not sure you want to.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there, but eventually, the voices grow quiet, and you hear the troopers walking away, their footsteps fading into the distance. When they're gone, you open your eyes and stare at the ground, the tears drying on your cheeks.

"You didn't tell them," you say, your voice quiet.

"No," he admits. "I didn't."

"Why?"

"Because," he murmurs. He turns, his hand reaching up, his fingers tilting your chin towards him. Your gazes meet, his eyes soft, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You deserved a moment alone to grieve. Without the others staring."

You nod, and a weak smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, the tears welling once more. He cares so much, cares more than he should, and it warms your heart despite the cold surrounding you.

"Thank you," you whisper, and the words come out strained, your voice cracking.

"It's the least I can do," he replies. Rex lets go of your chin, his hand falling back to his side. "I wish I could do more."

"You're already doing more than enough," you tell him, and you mean it. If not for him, you would have lost yourself completely. The thought terrifies you, but also warms you. He's saved you, time and time again, without even realizing it. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"You could have," he says, his expression earnest. "But I'm glad you didn't have to."

"Me, too," you murmur.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the faint drip of water. The air is frigid, the chill seeping into your bones, and you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Come on," Rex says. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, his hand trailing down your arm and coming to a rest on your elbow. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah," you agree, and you let him help you to your feet, your legs shaking. You brush the dirt and grime from your clothes, and then look down at the box, your mouth pulling into a grimace.

"I can't believe he kept it," you mutter, placing the lightsaber back inside, the scrap of fabric on top of it. The lid falls shut, a loud thump echoing around the chamber.

"I'm not surprised," Rex replies, his tone laced with bitterness. He shakes his head, a scowl on his face.  "He likes his trophies."

"He's sick," you mutter. The rage is starting to burn inside you again, the pain giving way to anger, a familiar, comforting emotion. "Do you think this was his plan all along? To lure me here?"

"Maybe," he admits, his eyes sweeping the area, his expression hardening. "But that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you have your evidence. You can finally get justice."

"Justice," you repeat. The word tastes like ash in your mouth. You shake your head, your lips pulling into a thin line. "All I want is revenge."

"Revenge won't bring her back," Rex murmurs. His hand rests on your lower back, his warmth seeping through the fabric. "You need to be smarter than that. We can't—"

"I know," you interrupt. "I know we can't."

"If it was up to me..." He trails off, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your spine.

"Yeah," you sigh. You reach out and pick up the box, the weight of it heavy in your arms. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and then glance up at him, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Wishful thinking, right?"

"Wishful thinking," he echoes, and the two of you share a chuckle, the tension in the air easing. 

Rex looks at you, a softness in his gaze, and a strange feeling passes between the two of you, the understanding, the acceptance. This war is not about justice, it's not about peace. It's about survival, and the two of you have to fight tooth and nail just to stay alive. But the fact that he's fighting with you, the fact that he's by your side, means everything.

"Come on," he says, and he gently guides you towards the path, his hand lingering on your back.

You nod, and the two of you begin walking, your footsteps echoing around the chamber. You follow the path, Rex's presence steady at your side, and the darkness recedes, the torchlight growing brighter. You can feel the weight of the box in your arms, the pulse of the kyber crystal, the whisper of her Force signature.

Yaddle.

Your Master. Your family.

Gone.

And the one responsible, just out of reach.

But if you can make the Council listen, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to bring him to justice.

Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

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[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

I just found your page and stalked all your writing lol, it’s absolutely amazing and I’m highly obsessed now!! from the prompt list for jily: “What are we?” + “I would like us to be more than friends.” (Head students era confession?)

oh you mean my favourite jily era??? my pleasure! ps uhhh pls don't count the words on this one

from this prompt list

James has thought about the moment at least once an hour, every day, for about two months now. Putting it into perspective like that makes him come face-to-face with the fact that he’s even more ridiculous than he’s usually comfortable admitting. 

And James has always known he’s ridiculous.

The conversation plays out a million different ways in his head, like a lucid dream he can only sort of control and only up until a certain point because it’s Lily, and he stopped trying to predict her next move long ago.

It’s why she always beats him at chess. He knows her—really knows her, not like he used to think he did—but he’ll never be able to anticipate what she’ll say or do. Full of surprises, she is.

Somehow, though—his brain, in the infinite possibilities it’s constructed, failed to think of even one situation in which she would be the one asking him.

“What are we?” she asks, sitting on the bench next to him outside Scrivenshaft’s, her thermos of tea warming her hands. She's wrapped in her Gryffindor scarf with a green knit cap pulled down over her ears, auburn curls spilling out and flying around with each heavy gust of the biting January wind. She's perfect and he just—

Stares at her.

“Okay,” she says, laughing, then takes a long sip of her tea, her gaze shifting to the empty street in front of them. It’s still early, so most of the Hogsmeade crowd is either having a lie-in or getting breakfast at the Three Broomsticks.

James and Lily got out of the castle as quickly as they could in order to make the most of their day. Day, not date, because they’re friends. Sort of. Most of the time. Except for when she flirts with him and he flirts back and that one time last week when he’s almost positive she was going to kiss him and that other time last week he is positive he was going to kiss her. And all the other moments that makes him absolutely lose his head.

“Never mind,” she says, and she’s bloody smiling. “I thought we…” Another slow, agonising sip. “Never mind.”

James feels the panic set in, just like when they play chess. It’s his move, he knows it’s his move, but which way can knights move, and how many spaces can bishops take, and—

“You’re freaking out,” she observes casually. He doesn’t know when she looked back at him.

“What?” he manages, the word sounding squeaky.

She might smile again, then. He can’t be sure, because she’s lifted the thermos back up to her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you were ready.” She tilts her head, studying him. “I’ve been trying to pick a good moment, you know. To talk about this. But…” She shrugs. “Guess I was wrong.” She caps her thermos of tea and stands from the bench then, looking down at him. “Wanna go to Honeyduke’s?”

“Do I want to—” He shakes his head, blinking rapidly, then looks up at her, sharply. “Huh?”

Lily laughs softly. “It’s almost ten,” she says, like this was the root of his confusion. “We can be first to the Pick ‘N Mix for once.”

She’s talking about candy. She’s just asked him to define their entire complicated relationship and then—without waiting even a moment for him to catch his breath—started talking about candy.

“Can you…” He frowns, struggling to find his words. (Struggling to remember how to breathe.) “Sit down…please,” he finally manages.

Thankfully, she doesn’t argue, settling back down on the bench beside him. He certainly doesn’t have the wherewithal to match wits with her right now if she chooses to be stubborn.

“I need a…a minute.”

“Okay,” she says, and pops the lid back off her thermos, gracefully pouring herself another shallow cup of tea. “You know,” she says, conversationally, “this works loads better than a heating charm. Marlene says I’m mad for lugging it all about Hogsmeade, but how else can I secure an infinite amount of tea to get me through the day? We don’t have a spell for that yet, do we?”

“Are you—” He breaks off and turns toward her on the bench. “Are you enjoying this?”

Her lips twitch up into a small smile. “Perhaps a little.”

He shuts his eyes tight and groans.

“I intend to be your girlfriend by the time we graduate, Potter,” she says, and he doesn’t know when she’s leaned toward him, but he can smell the peppermint tea on her breath and feel it tickle the hair near his ears. The bench creaks as she moves back away from him, taking his heart with her. “We’ve got, oh—” A pause. “Six more months. I’m not in a hurry.”

Not in a hurry. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s been waiting for this for six years. Well, perhaps that’s a bit dramatic, but—this calls for being dramatic! She’s just admitted to wanting to be his girlfriend—his girlfriend!—and he’s fumbling the Quaffle so bad he’s about to be benched. 

He can’t let this moment pass by without saying something.

“Girlfriend!” he blurts out

“Is that—” Her grin grows, even as her cheeks flush pink. “Was that an offer, or are you auditioning for the role of a caveman in a play I didn’t know Hogwarts was putting on?”

James wants to pull his hair out of his head. He wants to pull it out of his head and make a nest, so he can hide forever, like those bald little baby eagles he saw with his parents on the coast last summer.

“No, I want to—let’s talk.”

She sets the thermos on the bench between them and lifts up her hands, counting her fingers one at a time as her lips move wordlessly. “Wow. Six words.”

“Lily, can—you…”

“Okay, okay,” she says, with a giggle. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop taking the piss, I swear. Let’s talk.” Folding her hands in her lap, she looks at him expectantly. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

He gives her a significant look, making her laugh again, but she nods.

“Alright,” she begins, “well I don’t have much to say, really.” She shrugs, her legs dangling back and forth over the bench, just shy of touching the snowy ground. “I like spending time with you. I think you’re ridiculously fit. You’re a good person and—I really want to be able to kiss you without wondering if it’ll ruin everything.”

James has always found most Muggle swears to be rather lacking in oomph, but now—

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Oh,” he says.

“So, Potter,” she drawls, nudging his shin with her foot, “what are we?”

“I would—” he starts, then pauses, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. “I would…like us to be more than friends.”

“Oh,” she echoes, her foot hooking behind his on the ground in front of them.

“Lily.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve had a—a whole speech ready. For weeks.” he confesses. “But right now, my brain is…cold, I think. So I don’t want you to take my lack of…words…as a lack of enthusiasm. I’m��very enthused.”

Lily looks at him, jade eyes blazing. “Will I get to hear the speech in the near future?”

“Do you…want to?”

“I want to hear anything you have to say, Potter,” she says simply.

“Are you sure because—”

“Yes,” she replies, moving closer. Her wind-chapped lips stop a breath away from his. “What are we, James?”

He inhales deeply and doesn’t think again before murmuring, “Everything,” and closing the gap between them.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 31: Warmth

You cope with the aftermath of patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-30 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Fall out from canon-typical violence. Plot points from TLOU2. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 8k

A/N: Hi y'all. This does have a continuation of the spoilers from TLOU2. Again, I'm so sorry for not warning about these further in advance. If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me a DM (or you can always yell in the comments or in my asks. I don't delete things if they're not the kindest so I'll leave whatever you want to send my way up, I totally get it.) Thanks for being here ❤️

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It shouldn’t be this hard to stay conscious when the world is ending. 

You’d had the thought before, in the early days of the outbreak. When you were trying to find someplace safe and had no idea where to start, when you were just riding and riding and hoping you’d be alive to see the next morning. 

But now was different. It wasn’t your life, it was Joel’s. His was so much more important than your own and the fear of losing him was keeping you awake. You’d nod off for a second - you thought, anyway - only to jerk back awake when your grip on his wrist slipped and his pulse wasn’t a constant - if weak - drumbeat below your fingers. 

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been on the floor with him. Things were fuzzy. You’d lost a lot of blood, you were familiar with that sensation now, you could identify it even as your mind was foggy. You still weren’t entirely sure what had happened. You remembered Joel screaming - you didn’t think you’d ever forget that horrific sound - and running to find him. You remembered watching as that girl swung the golf club down on his body. It wasn’t until you were already in the room, fighting for control of your gun with someone who looked like he was about Ellie’s age that you realized this was probably a mistake. You’d charged in without a plan to get backup, you were hugely outnumbered, no one knew where the fuck you were. You should have at least gone back for your horse, you were pretty sure she could have fit down here and you could have used sheer size and weight to clear the room. 

But they were killing him. That’s all that could force that sound from someone, life and death, and you couldn’t risk it. If there was a chance, even a tiny one, that you could save him, you were going to take it. Even if it killed you, you were going to take it. 

The threat was gone now - or you hoped it was, at least. Gatling was still on guard. You could feel how tense she was behind you, her body engaged and ready to strike. If they came back armed to the teeth before help arrived, though, you’d be finished. 

Joel’s wrist, the one you’d been holding, relaxed some and you forced yourself to sit up. 

“Joel?” You managed, adjusting your hold on him. His whole arm was limp now. Your heart beat faster. You released his wrist and pressed your fingers into his neck, where you liked to kiss him and feel the vital thrum of his pulse through his skin. It was faint but it was there. You adjusted yourself, propping yourself up on your elbow as your cut side screamed in pain, and you ran your fingers through his hair. You took comfort in the fact that you still could do that. While the rest of his body had been brutalized, Joel’s head was intact outside of where it looked like someone had landed a punch on his cheek near his eye, a bruise blossoming on his skin but no blood shed. It was like the girl had been saving his head for last, like she was trying to draw it out, make sure he was alive and awake while she hurt him. It turned your stomach. 

“You’re OK Joel,” you held face gently in your hand. “Gonna get you out of here, get you back to Ellie. You’re OK.” 

You stayed propped up like that for a while, just talking to him and running your fingers gently through his hair and feeling his breath on your skin until you were too weak to hold yourself up anymore. You collapsed alongside him then, trying to shield his body with yours as much as you could in case the people came back. 

Just a little sleep. That’s all. That’s what you needed, just enough rest to be able to think straight. Then you could figure out how to get Tommy and Joel back to Jackson. 

“Gatling,” you managed before you passed out. “Guard.” 

You woke up to snarling. 

Your head was swimming and you could feel the strength of the dog at your side, her body pressed back against you as she growled and barked. You tried to get your bearings as quickly as you could, fumbling for the rifles you’d brought to Joel’s side. 

“Bambi!” You recognized Ellie’s voice. “Bambi, call off Gatling, she won’t listen to me, we can’t get close enough…” 

“Gatling,” you gritted your teeth, your cut side burning and pulling as you tried to sit up. “Down.” 

You felt her relax and she gave a little whine before curling up against you and giving you a lick. You managed to prop yourself up on your uninjured side, eyes fighting to focus as Ellie, Jesse, Julie and Gene came in. Ellie ran for Joel, Gatling giving a little whine as she tracked her with her eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Gene said as he got a good look at Joel. 

“He’s alive,” Ellie said, her voice cracking. “I thought…” 

“I know,” you adjusted so you could see him, check on his bandages. Your side protested, damaged skin pulling painfully. “But we have to get him to the doctor, we have to move him now…” 

“I don’t know that we can,” Gene knelt next to Ellie, looking Joel up and down. 

You frowned. 

“The fuck do you mean you don’t know.” 

“I mean,” he said gently. “We need to move quick, already been here too long, and we only have so many hands. I don’t know that he can make it back to Jackson and we should focus on…” 

“Fuck you,” your teeth were clenched, sweat starting at your temples from the strain of sitting upright. “We are not just gonna leave him out here…” 

“If we can save you and Tommy?” Gene said. “Then that’s what we should do. That’s what he’d want.” 

“Fuck you!” Ellie looked murderous. “Bambi’s right…” 

“C’mon,” Julie’s hands gently enveloped your shoulders. “Let’s try to get you up…” 

“I’m not going!” You wrenched yourself out of her grip and cried out in pain, a gush of blood coming from the wound at your side. “I’m not going without him, I’m not leaving him here!” 

Julie’s hands were on you again but you pulled yourself free, forcing yourself to your knees. 

“You’re gonna get yourself hurt,” Gene warned, moving for you, too, but you ignored him. 

“Gatling!” You managed through clenched teeth. Her head sprang up. “Guard!” 

She jumped to her feet and jumped between you and Gene. 

“Bambi,” he said cautiously, hands up, as your dog snapped her jaws and snarled at him. 

“I’m not going anywhere without him,” you were panting for breath. “You can’t make me, not with her like this. She’ll kill you and I’ll fuckin’ let her. Take him. Now.” 

Gene looked back at Jesse, who was helping Tommy sit up. He just shrugged. Gene looked back to you. 

“Fine,” he said. “But you gotta give us some space to work, can’t move him with her like this…” 

You struggled to your feet, using Julie’s shoulder as leverage, and you limped to the wall, all but collapsing against it. Gatling stayed on you, staring Gene down, seeming to trust Julie as you leaned against her. 

“She’s guardin’ me,” you said. “Won’t bother you over there. Move him. Do it.” 

You watched as Gene, Jesse and Ellie got Joel off the floor and out of the room. There was a perverse spot on the ground where his body had been, his blood pooled there. There was so much of it, so much it didn’t seem like there would be any left inside of him. You remembered, suddenly, Justin on the night of the outbreak. How you’d tried to put his blood back inside of him in the hopes that it would save him. How could you save the man you loved if all his blood was on the floor? 

“He’s alive?” Tommy asked from his place propped against the wall. There was a streak of blood down his face. 

“He’s alive,” you said. He closed his eyes and nodded, leaning his head against the wall. 

“Thank you,” he said, quietly enough that you could barely hear him. “I can’t…” 

“It’s OK,” you said. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be OK. He will.” 

You weren’t sure you believed it.

Jesse came back down and helped Tommy up before stopping near the door, keeping a safe distance from you and Gatling. 

“We got him on a horse,” he said. “We gotta move.” 

You gave him a nod and watched him get Tommy started on the stairs before you looked down at Gatling, her body drawn tight, ready to spring into action. 

“Gatling. Heel.” 

She looked up at you, muscle relaxing, and licked her lips. 

“You’re a good girl,” you said, trying to imbue as much praise into your voice as you could manage. “You did real good.” 

She wagged a little uncertainly and watched, waiting to follow you. Julie looped your arm around her shoulders while hers slipped around your waist and she helped you toward the stairs, taking it slow. You had to stop and rest once, not able to breathe, the warm gush of your blood when you pulled the air down low in your lungs making your head spin. 

“Think you can make it?” Julie asked, concerned. 

You nodded, wincing. 

“I’ll make it,” you said. “I know, we have to move.” 

She held you a little tighter and the cold air burned your lungs when you made it outside. Joel was draped over Ares, Gene mounted up behind him. Tommy was on his own horse, blood still on his face as he stared blankly at Joel’s limp body. 

“You can ride with me,” Julie said but you shook your head. You weren’t about to not be in control of a horse, not in this situation. You needed to have the power if something went wrong. You couldn’t trust anyone else to make Joel a priority if there were infected or raiders or, worst of all, the people who had attacked him to begin with. You needed to be able to move to protect him. 

“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth, even though you knew getting on Renaissance was going to hurt something fierce. “Don’t need to be slowin’ us down any more by putting two of us on a horse.” 

She went to protest but you pulled away from her and swallowed the sounds of your pain as you went to Renaissance and pulled yourself onto her. You called Gatling onto your saddle, too, and she settled there, still on high alert. You guided the horse to be alongside Gene and Joel and stared Gene down, almost daring him to fight you on it. 

“I want to get everyone back,” he said gently. “But if it’s not everyone, I want as many as I can get.” 

“Then let’s go,” you bit out. 

The ride back to Jackson felt long, longer than it really was, you were sure. Every step Renaissance made was painful. It was hard to stay conscious when you’d lost so much blood and the pain was blinding. You were terrified that something was going to happen, that someone was going to pick now to attack people from Jackson and that you wouldn’t be strong enough to save Joel. The thought was constant and overbearing, hollowing out your chest and making your stomach clench. 

By the time the walls of the city were in view, you were barely able to stay on your horse. Dina had ridden ahead to tell the doctors and the council what was happening and you were thankful for it as your head spun and vision grew spotty as you neared the gates. You were too out of it to notice that someone was there to catch you as your strength started to give out.

“Woah there!” You vaguely recognized Ryan, a guard you regularly saw when he went out on patrol, stomach turning as he lowered you to the snow. “Hey Doc! Got one here!” 

“No,” you shook your head, words starting to slur. The blood on your clothes was cold against your skin. “M’fine… Joel, need to help Joel…” 

“They’re getting him,” he said, looking down at you. He had a nice face, you thought. Pleasant and calming. “You got him back here, it’s OK. We’ll get you taken care of, it’s alright…” 

“Joel,” you closed your eyes. At least things were warmer here. It hurt less. “Need… Joel…” 

“We’ve got him,” Ryan said. His voice sounded so far away. “It’s alright, we’ve got him.” 

You barely remembered nodding before you passed out. 

You were warmer when you woke up. 

Sound came first. It took a moment before you could open your eyes but you could hear the muffled sounds of bickering not far away. For half a moment, you thought you were in Joel’s bed. That he and Ellie were in a tiff just outside his bedroom door, going back and forth about some harebrained scheme that one of them had latched onto. You thought about pressing your face into the pillow and trying to go back to sleep, hoping that Joel would come in once one of them wore the other down. He did that sometimes when he woke up before you, bringing you a cup of tea and setting it on the nightstand before wrapping around you, pulling you into his broad chest and burying his face in your hair or your neck, kissing you and breathing you in until you stirred in his arms. 

And then you remembered. Waking up next to Joel. Going on Patrol. The storm. The blood. 

You tried to sit up before your eyes were open, side pulling and head spinning. 

“Hey guys, she’s waking up!” 

Your eyes had never been heavier but you forced them open anyway, already reaching and groping to figure out where you’d ended up. 

The room was bright, the bed soft. It was the third time you’d managed to dodge death and awoken, confused and lightheaded, in Jackson’s clinic. The other bed was empty.  

“Joel,” you started trying to get up but two small hands held you in bed and you frowned, ready to fight whoever was holding you back, but it was Savvy, her eyebrows drawn tightly together, curls springing in every direction. 

“Mom, you have to be calm, you’ll rip your stitches…” 

She was here. She was with you, willing to talk to you, touch you. The sound of her voice, all gentle concern, made your chest tighten. You just looked at her for a moment, seeking out the minute changes in her since you’d gotten a chance to see her - really see her - last. You thought she might be having her last growth spurt. She looked a little longer, her face a little thinner. There was a scratch on her cheek that you wanted to kiss like you did when she was little. There were tears in her eyes. 

“Savvy…” 

“I was so scared,” her voice cracked. “I thought you might be dead, I thought…” 

“Oh honey,” you pulled her against you and held her to your chest, one arm looping around her waist, the other hand cradling her head to you, the wet of her tears on your neck. You kissed her temple and tried to keep the tears that were starting to cling to your eyelashes from falling. “It’s OK, you’re alright, I’ve got you. Don’t have to be scared, you’re OK.” 

“I’ve never seen you like that,” she sniffed from her place against your skin. “You’re always so strong, you’re never hurt, not like that…” 

“I know,” you said softly, rocking her gently. “I’m sorry, Honey, I wish you hadn’t seen that. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never see it again and we can talk all about it but baby, I need to know where Joel is. Is he here? Is he OK? Is he alive?” 

She sniffed and started to pull back from you as the door opened, Ellie, Tommy, Maria and Dr. Livingston coming in. They moved slowly, cautiously. Like they were worried you would startle if they behaved normally. Tommy looked washed out, Ellie exhausted, both with grim looks on their faces. Your arms went limp and Savvy sat back from you, looking between you and them. 

“No,” you shook your head, a lump growing in your throat. “No, no, you’re wrong, he’s not…” 

“He’s alive,” Dr. Livingston said gently. “Barely. But you got him here just in time, it was very very close while we worked on him…” 

“Where is he,” you tried to get up again but Savvy held you down. “I need to see him, just for a second, please…” 

“He’s still unconscious,” Dr. Livingston continued. 

You frowned, looking between everyone. 

“That’s bad,” you said, reading their expressions. “Why… How long has it been?”

“We’ve been back about two and a half days,” Tommy said, his arms crossed over his chest. 

You nodded slowly. That made sense to you.

“He was hurt bad,” you said, looking between them again. “He lost a lot of blood…” 

“He did,” Dr. Livingston said. “But… well, we’d normally expect to see more from him by now. He’s breathing on his own - we don’t have the facilities to keep him alive if he can’t - but that’s the best we can really say for him. He’s… he’s unresponsive.” 

You processed what she said for a moment.

“You’re sure?” 

She nodded, her mouth a thin line. 

“Are you…” You had to close your eyes and focus for a second. None of this came easy or naturally. It was utterly unnatural, thinking of Joel in that way. He was so strong, so vital. He couldn’t just stop being like that. He couldn’t just fade away into nothing like that. “Are you saying he might not wake up?” 

“The longer he’s like this, the more likely it becomes,” Dr. Livingston said. 

“But he’s still alive,” you said, looking back toward Ellie and Tommy again, looking for that reassurance that you weren’t crazy. They knew him, they knew that he wouldn’t just disappear from his body like that. “He’s still breathing.” 

“He’s alive,” she said. “But he might be brain dead, we have no way of knowing right now, no way of scanning for brain function like we did before… I’m so sorry, but you have to consider the possibility that…” 

“Take me to see him,” you cut her off. She looked at Maria, worry in her eyes, like she thought you might be unstable. “Please.” 

Dr. Livingston sighed. 

“You’ve got a fair few fresh stitches and you’re still down plenty of blood yourself. We’ll have to take it slow.” 

Ellie and Savvy helped you stand up and you could feel the wounds on your leg and stomach protesting the movement. For a moment, you thought you might be able to count the number of stitches in your skin because the way it pulled and strained. You hissed and clutched the girls’ hands, squeezing their fingers so hard that you could only hope it didn’t hurt them. 

They helped you across a short hallway to a room that was almost identical to the one you’d been in, just with one fewer bed, giving people more room to work. Joel was there, flat on his back, his arms down straight at his sides over the top of the blanket. But he looked strange, unnatural. 

It took you a moment to recognized the part of it that was wrong. His chest rose and fell, the worst of his injuries hidden by the quilt. He looked like he was sleeping. But it was off. He never slept like that, straight as a board with his arms at his sides in that way. It wasn’t like him, it wasn’t the way his body arranged itself when he was relaxed. Even when he wasn’t curled around you, he slept on his side or, if he was on his back, his hands were folded and resting where his chest met his stomach. He napped on the couch that way sometimes, when he was sleeping lightly, waiting for you. You could come in and press a kiss to his forehead and he would open one eye and cock a smile at you, just big enough that his cheek would dimple. 

But if your lips touched him now, you knew he’d be still. He wouldn’t look at you like you made him happy just by existing. His cheek wouldn’t dimple. 

You made your way to a chair near the head of the bed and lowered yourself into it slowly. His skin was pale, his face totally lax in a way that wasn’t peaceful and was, instead, like an echo. 

“Oh God,” you breathed, one hand going to your lips. 

“We’re doing everything we can,” Dr. Livingston said gently. “We have ways to get him fluids and nutrients but… it’s nothing long term. We’ll just have to hope he makes a turn for the better.”

You nodded, not able to stop looking at him. His body was so empty, so unlike him. 

“Can I stay with him?” You asked quietly. You weren’t sure when you’d started crying but you were. 

“Sure,” she said. “For now. But you need rest…” 

You just nodded. You’d fight that battle when the time came. 

The doctor left you with the girls, Tommy and Maria. Joel’s family and yours. All the people you had in the world in this one, small room. 

“I was going to go home and get changed, take a nap…” Ellie said quietly. “Can I bring you something?” 

“One of his shirts?” You asked. 

“Sure,” she said. You heard the door open and she paused. “You did everything you could, Bambi. We all did.” 

You nodded, not willing to argue with her. 

“I think Tommy and I will get out of here for a bit, too,” Maria said. “Give you some time. We’ll be back in a few hours unless I can actually get my husband to get some real sleep…” 

“He wouldn’t be sleepin’ if it were me,” Tommy said, voice sharper than you were used to hearing. 

Maria sighed. 

“Come on, honey,” she said. “You need rest, too.” 

The room was quiet for a moment, so quiet you could hear the sound of Joel’s shallow breaths. You wanted to put your head on his chest and listen to the life inside him, reassure yourself that he was still in there somewhere, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You’d already done enough. 

“Mom?” Savvy’s voice was soft. “Is it… can I stay? For a bit?” 

You managed to pull your eyes away from Joel to find her, standing to the side, her arms tight over her chest. 

“Of course baby,” you said, looking for another chair. She found one first, moving it to be beside yours. She settled in there, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a heavy sigh. She was looking at Joel, her face drawn. “How have you been?” 

She shrugged noncommittally. 

“Alright, I guess,” she said. “School is OK. Math is stupid.” 

You laughed lightly once. 

“Math’s not stupid but… I know what you mean. Wasn’t ever my strong suit. I liked history best. And music, of course.” 

“Course,” she smiled a little. “I like Ellie and… I like staying where I have been but… I missed you. Missed home.” 

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. 

“I missed you, too,” you said, voice wet. “So much. More than anything.” 

She nodded slowly, not looking at you. 

“I heard the doctors and some other people talking,” she said hesitantly. “What they were saying… It’s not the first time they’ve seen you hurt like this.” 

You waited for a moment, to make sure she was done. 

“It’s not,” you said. 

She nodded again. 

“How did you end up here?” She asked quietly. 

“I…” You sighed and tried to find the best way to phrase it. “I’d wound up with some bad people. I got hurt. Joel found me when I was in real bad shape. He brought me here. He saved me.” 

“When was that?” 

“About two years ago,” you said. 

“So you weren’t just here the whole time,” she said, more like a statement than a question. 

“No,” you said softly. “I wasn’t.” 

She nodded again. You could see her processing the information, her eyes slightly squinting as she did, so like her father used to do. It still tugged at your heart, bits and pieces of a man you’d loved still alive in his child. 

“I’m still not sure how I feel,” she said, gnawing on her lower lip. “But… I don’t want to keep being mad at you. I miss you. I’d… I’d like to find a way to see you. At least some. For now.” 

“I’d like that,” you said, sniffing a little. “I’d like that a lot. As much time as you want, honey, I’m here.” 

“OK,” she smiled a tight lipped smile at you before looking to Joel. “Do you really think he’ll wake up?” 

You sighed, looking at him, too. 

“I don’t really know anything about medicine,” you said. “But… I do know Joel. And I don’t knot that there’s anything that can keep him from taking care of the people he loves. And I know he knows Ellie needs him, you need him. And I…” your voice cracked. “I need him. He’s strong. He can pull through.” 

She nodded and slowly, gently, rested her head on your shoulder. You froze for a moment, not wanting to disturb her. But, eventually, you had to take a breath and she stayed there beside you, keeping vigil over the man who had become her guardian. 

Savvy ended up staying until after dark. Ellie came back only about an hour and a half after she left, bringing some clothes for you. You immediately put on the shirt, pressing your nose to the collar and breathing in Joel’s scent. She told you then that Savvy hadn’t left the clinic since you’d come in, always at your bedside, nearly ripping off the doctors’ heads when they dared suggest that she go home and get some rest. 

Ellie got her to go home that evening, though, after she gave you a delicate hug that, you thought, might be one of the best ones you’d ever gotten. Dr. Livingston wanted to keep you there for another few days, not something you were going to argue with since you weren’t about to leave while Joel was still there, anyway. She did make you move back to the other room and you gave up the fight quickly, waiting until you heard her leave for the night before going back across the hall, anyway. It was tricky, walking on your own when you were still healing, but you made it without any more blood leaking from you. You pulled your chair close to Joel and looked him over, tracing one finger over the soft skin of his cheek. He still looked so unnatural in this position, so unlike himself. You ran your fingers through his hair, arranging it just so, before you gently took his hands and put them at the base of his chest, one on top of the other. Not quite right, but better. It felt like his body was more his that way. 

“I’m here, Joel,” you said quietly, wanting more than anything to be able to curl up in his lap. “I’m here.” 

You sat on the floor next to the bed - not able to get comfortable enough in the chair to doze off - and rested your head on the mattress near his hip. This wasn’t exactly ideal, either, your stitches itching and pulling as you settled in, but you didn’t care. You had to be close to Joel. Some pain was worth that. 

The next day, you were shaken awake by a frustrated Dr. Palmer who was taking over so Dr. Livingston could get some rest. 

“You are bound and determined to be your own worst enemy,” she muttered, forcing you back to your own bed. She checked you over, reluctantly told you that you were healing well with no sign of infection. The second her back was turned, you were back in Joel’s room. 

Ellie, Tommy and Maria came by again, all of you sitting in near silence, watching Joel, waiting for him to do something - anything - to indicate that he was still in there. 

The next day was less quiet. You were in your usual position in the seat by the head of Joel’s bed when Tommy and Ellie started getting into it. It didn’t sound like a new argument and, you realized, the bickering you’d been only vaguely aware of as you regained consciousness was probably them. 

“I’m not going to sit around here and fucking wait forever,” Ellie snapped. “I’m going out there, I’m going to find them and I’m going to kill every last fucking one of them.” 

“We need to wait,” Tommy said, voice strained. Ellie didn’t seem to care. 

“Wait for them to get further and further away?” She snapped. “Wait for them to come back with more people? No, it’s too big of a fucking risk. I’m going out there.” 

“Need to wait until I can go with you,” Tommy snapped. “Need to wait until we know…” 

Tommy’s voice trailed off. 

“Until we know what?” Ellie demanded. “Until we know whether or not they successfully murdered him? No, fuck that, I’m going to beat the shit out of her with a goddamn golf club, make her fucking feel it…” 

“No, you won’t,” you cut her off. 

“I won’t?” She asked, brows raised, almost daring you to argue with her. “You’re not my fucking mom, Bambi, you don’t get to tell me what the fuck I do or don’t get to do.” 

“You ever killed anyone, kid?” You asked, chin resting on your fist as you watched her. She just blinked at you for a moment. “And I mean people. Real people, not infected.” 

“Yeah,” she said, though her voice was less sharp. “Yeah, I have. Two.” 

“Alright,” you replied. “You torture them? You like killing them?” 

She was silent and just looked at her feet.

“That’s what I thought,” you looked back to Joel. “You’re not going after shit, kid…”

“I’m not a fucking kid!” 

“You’re his kid,” you shot her a glare before looking back at Joel. “And he wouldn’t want you murdering and torturing people for him.”

“But…” 

“No,” you said. “If… If he… If someone needs to handle it, it will be me and Tommy. We can take them and we can make it hurt. You’ll stay here. Not gonna just let you turn into a killer for him, he’d never forgive me. He’d never forgive either of us. One of the last things he said to me was to look out for you and you better goddamn well believe that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. You’re not going any damn place.” 

She stormed out but Savvy came that evening. She brought a deck of cards and the two of you played Go Fish like you used to when she was little. She told you Ellie was cooling off but she thought she’d be OK. 

“I don’t blame her,” she said, arranging some cards in her hand. “If someone did that to you, I’d want to kill them, too.” 

You looked at her for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t want you to,” you said gently. She looked at you over the cards, skeptical. “I mean it. You hear that something bad happened to me, you take it and move on. Don’t hurt yourself thinking that will fix it. It would only make it worse.” 

The day after that, Ellie brought you your guitar. It made Dr. Palmer look nervous but you promised to take it easy and that music was how you relaxed. 

“Just don’t get all worked up and play Freebird,” she muttered, leaving you alone with Joel and your instrument. 

“Why is everyone so obsessed with Freebird?” You asked a silent Joel as you delicately arranged the guitar on your lap, dodging the stitches in your stomach and leg as you did. “There’s better shit out there…” 

You played for him whatever came to mind. The song you’d written for him kept cropping up. So did the songs you’d played with him, slower and gentler things that you tried to pull from memory, even Take on Me because it got stuck in your head. 

“Do you think he can hear me?” You asked Dr. Palmer that afternoon. 

She stepped back from him and sighed for a moment, looking at you as though she were going to gauge her answer around your demeanor. 

“No one knows for sure,” she said eventually. “But… if he could hear anybody, I think it would be you.”

By the end of the second day with your guitar, your whole body was sore and tired but you didn’t move to go back to your own room. Both doctors had given up on forcing you. You nearly ripped their heads off when they suggested you go to your house for a day or two, try to get some real rest. It was bad enough that they’d surrendered to your stubborn need to be where you could see Joel at all times, no longer willing to fight over what they thought was better for you. 

It was quiet, dark. You weren’t entirely sure what time it was but you thought everyone in town besides those on watch were at home. You were as close to home as you got now, home could only be where Joel was. You weren’t sure how to find home without him now. 

You played the song you’d written for him one more time, soft and slow, before propping the guitar against the wall and sitting delicately on the edge of the bed, careful to not disturb him. You adjusted his arms a bit, putting them where you knew he would rest them if he could move them on his own. You gently brushed his hair back. His patchy beard was getting long in spots and you wondered if Ellie could bring scissors and a razor the next time she came so you could trim it for him, keep it how he liked. You drew the shirt of his you wore tighter to yourself and just looked at him for a moment. He was so beautiful, even like this. You needed him so badly, needed him to be OK. You needed to be able to wake up next to him again, kiss him on your way out the door again, make love to him again. He couldn’t be gone, not now. Not like this.

“Joel,” you said softly, barely even a whisper. “I know… I know I should probably tell you that if you need to go, it’s OK, that we’ll be OK but… I don’t think I can. I don’t know how to do this without you, I don’t want to do this without you. I need you, I’m not sure I can be a real person without you. If you’re already gone then… then knowing you was one of the best things that ever happened to me and I’m thankful for every goddamn second of it. But if you’re still there, if you can hear me… I need you to come back to me, Joel. Just… please. Don’t leave me, don’t leave the girls, I just… I will do whatever you want, just stay. Just come back to me. Please.” 

He was still below your touch but you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, anyway, his skin soft and warm. A tear slipped from your eyelash and fell to his cheek but you didn’t move to wipe it away. You had the odd thought that maybe he would absorb it, that his skin would soak up your salt and your sadness and then, even if he didn’t come back, at least he’d have part of you in him when you put him in the ground. You wondered if you’d be able to join him. You slid off the bed and tucked your legs up against yourself, crossing your arms atop the mattress and resting your head there, drifting off to the sound of his breathing. 

***

All Joel really knew was that he was somewhere warm and soft. Warm and soft and kinder than where he’d been before, though the memory of just before was fuzzy. He remembered you, waking up with you, being inside of you, kissing you goodbye. He remembered watching Ellie ride off with her friend for their patrol. He remembered laughing with his brother about something but didn’t remember what. Everything after that was a haze of blood and pain. 

But he was warm now, somewhere that was familiar but he was having a hard time placing it. Grass and trees and a park bench that was more comfortable than it had any right to be, the sound of birds and cicadas on the air. But there were no other people. None that he could see, anyway. 

He heard voices now and then. There were some he knew were familiar but he couldn’t quite place. Others he’d have known anywhere. You, Ellie, Savvy, Tommy, Maria. It was a haze, he could make out the tones and the melodies of your speech but not the words. But that was OK. He knew all of you were close and that was enough. 

There was music, too. He would have recognized your playing from anywhere but it still seemed so obvious from wherever he was. But your music sounded sad, some kind of longing in it that wasn’t there when you usually played for him. He wanted to fix it, wanted to come from wherever he was and make it better. He just wasn’t sure that he could. But he kept hearing the song you made for him. That song was clearer than any other, so present he almost thought it was the version of it you’d recorded for him. But it wasn’t followed by the words he’d come to know so well in the months without you, the ones you’d added to the end of the tape that he listened to every night since you left. Every night until the one you came back to him. 

Come back to me, Joel. 

“Dad?” 

Joel looked around for a moment, heart pounding. He knew that voice, had heard it inside his head so many times through the years. But never like this, never this close. And then Sarah was in front of him, her curls a halo around her head, skin almost glowing in the golden sun. 

“Baby girl.” 

He realized where he knew this place from. It was a park in Austin that he took her to all the time when she was a little girl. The skyline was at his back if he could turn to face it, a playground down the hill to the right. She’d loved the open field, though. She loved being able to just run and run and run with nothing to hold her back. He tried to make himself get to his feet but he couldn’t. She just smiled. It was warm, gentle but more knowing than he’d remembered it being. But then, maybe he’d forgotten. Because otherwise, she looked exactly the same as the last time Joel had seen her, down to the clothes. Except her purple shirt wasn’t bloodstained now, her ankle wasn’t hurt. She was whole, healthy, the way she always should have been.

“Long time no see,” she sat beside him on the bench and he was able to reach her then. He reached for her slowly, cautiously, but he didn’t need to worry. She reached back, putting her arms around his neck. He held her, close and tight. She was warm and soft but the heat wasn’t coming from her. Instead it was like she was part of the place where he was, warm like the sun. She pulled back from him before too long but left a delicate hand on his knee. He tried to memorize her, make sure he knew the precise constellations of her freckles and the way her lashes framed her eyes. She looked him over and smiled that beautiful smile of hers. “You’re getting old, old man.” 

“Yeah,” he laughed a little, still not sure what to say to her. “Yeah, I know, baby girl. I know.” 

“I’ve missed you,” she was still smiling but it was sadder now. “A lot.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, his voice wet. “So, so much. You have no idea how much…” 

“I know,” she said. “I’ve seen. You’ve been through a lot, Dad. So much. I wish I could have been there, I wish I could have helped you.” 

“That’s not your job…” 

“I know,” she said again. “But I still wanted to.” 

“How are you?” He asked. “I want to know everything, everything…” 

“I’ve been good,” she smiled. “I met your friend Tess. I like her. I liked her before, too, but even more now. She’s a lot like you, I’m glad you had her.” 

“How…” 

“Dad, I would love to tell you everything,” she cut him off. “But we don’t have time.” 

He frowned. 

“No,” he shook his head. “No, we didn’t get enough time before, but we should now, we…” 

“We will,” she reached out and took his hands. “Eventually. But not yet. You’ve gotten old, old man, but not old enough. You’re not supposed to be here yet. You still have a lot to do. You have people who need you, people who love you. They really, really love you, Dad. You need to go back for them. You’ve been here long enough.” 

Don’t leave me.

He looked up, looking for where your voice was coming from. Sarah just smiled. 

“She needs you,” she said. “And you need her.” 

She was right. He could feel that in every inch of him. He wanted to be next to you, wanted the life that he could have with you that had been so close when he’d left Jackson that morning. Just you and him and your girls. He wanted it so much it hurt. But how could he leave his daughter? His baby girl, the first baby girl he’d held, the first one he’d failed. How could he leave her again?

“Baby girl, I love them, too but I can’t just leave you here alone…” 

She smiled gently. 

“I’m not alone, Dad. And it’s OK if I’m not your whole world anymore,” she gave his leg a squeeze. “It’s OK if you have another purpose. I want you to be happy. Her, Ellie, Savvy… they make you happy. They’re your purpose now. You deserve that. Go be happy. I’ll be here when you’re done. We’ll have time then, too. I promise.” 

Just stay. 

“Go be with them, Dad,” she said. “Go be happy. We’ll be together when it’s time.” 

Just come back to me.

“I love you so much, Sarah,” he said, reaching out and holding her face in his hand. “So, so much.” 

Please. 

“I know,” she smiled. “And I love you too.” 

There was a wet spot on his cheek but he wasn’t crying. He frowned, touching his skin there, a tear clinging to his finger when he pulled it away. The place he was glowed brighter. Sarah’s face was somehow further away though neither of them had moved. He could feel himself fading from here, going back to where he was before. Part of him hurt with that, clinging to Sarah so hard that it seemed as though he was going to leave that part of him behind. But the rest of him was bringing him back, desperate to get to you, be beside you. That’s where he was supposed to be. He knew that now. He was always supposed to live. He was always supposed to flinch. He was always supposed to find you. 

“I’ll see you around,” she said. “Take care of yourself. Take care of them. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

He didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.

Everything hurt. 

It was sudden and sharp, the place where he was abruptly dark and cold. He wasn’t sure he could move much, every part of him impossibly heavy. But he forced his eyes open, at least. He was flat on his back and in a bed. It took him a moment to realize where, but the fact that there was medical equipment near his head narrowed it down. He heard a soft, sleepy sound and forced himself to lift his head enough to look for it. It didn’t take him long to find you there, head resting near his waist. He smiled to himself. Part of him was just relieved that he hadn’t dreamed you coming back to him, relieved that you’d want anything to do with him at all now. 

He forced his arm to move, the limb unnaturally clunky, every motion pulling and tugging on damaged skin but he didn’t really care. He rested a hand on your head, smoothing your hair down, thumb brushing against your forehead. You startled and jerked awake, sitting up quickly and blinking sleep from your eyes. His hand fell to your arm when you did and looked around for a moment before your eyes fell on him, the glow of the moon on the snow illuminating your face in the dark. You frowned for a moment, your brows knitting together. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Joel managed, his voice dry and cracking. 

“Joel!” You scrambled to your feet, taking his hand and clinging to it as you did. “You’re here, you’re alive, you’re…” 

“I’m alright, baby,” he said gently. You sank slowly onto the bed at his waist, clutching onto his hand. “You OK?” 

“I’m OK,” you nodded quickly, your voice wet. “Tommy’s OK, Ellie’s OK, we’re all OK. I was so afraid, Joel. I was so afraid. I thought you were gone, I thought I lost you…” 

“I know,” he winced as he reached the hand you weren’t latched onto over to cup your face. “I’m so sorry, baby. Wasn’t tryin’ to go anywhere…” 

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles before holding his arm to your chest, clinging to it like a child does to a security blanket. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked, looking him up an down. “I can go wake up a doctor and…” 

“M’fine sweetheart,” he said, brushing a thumb over the arch of your cheekbone. “Don’t… don’t go anywhere, need you close. Just…” He did his best to shift himself so he wasn’t in the middle of the bed, wincing as he did. “Just be here. Let me hold you, OK?” 

“I don’t want to hurt you…” 

“You won’t,” he said gently. “Need to feel you. Just stay with me, baby. Please.” 

You sniffed but nodded before you moved gingerly to slip into bed beside him. You lay your head gently on his chest and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. It took a moment but he felt you relax against him, body molding to his own. He turned his head enough to brush his lips against your forehead. 

“I can’t lose you, Joel,” you said softly. “I can’t, I need you to stay.” 

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered, holding you as close as he could, everywhere your body met his a welcome distraction from the pain. “Not going anywhere.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Yeah, sorry, I can't bring myself to kill Joel lol I love him too much, I need to let him have all the beautiful things he deserves to have.

Thank you so so much for being so patient with this chapter. I promise, I didn't intend to leave you hanging for weeks on end and I feel so bad that I did. Thank you for still reading and for being here. I feel like I've messed up a lot on how I've handled this fic lately - between not understanding how many folks didn't know the TLOU2 stuff and not giving proper warning and then posting that last chapter and not having this one lined up and ready to go - so thank you for not ditching me and this fic. It really does mean so much that you spend your time here with these characters.

Thank you again ❤️ Love you!

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

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for possibly getting my coworker in trouble?

I (early 20s f) work with this guy (late 20s-early 30s m) in fulfillment (online orders) at a retail store. He seems like a pretty nice guy but he sucks at his job. Multiple times when we've been cross-scheduled he's just left without telling me, or giving me the equipment, or finishing the orders he had open. I tolerated this because a. it normally isn't that busy and it doesn't cause that much of an inconvenience and b. fixing stuff without causing a problem is just what i do.

Until black friday.

We have 2 types of orders: instore pickup orders and larger batch orders of items that we ship out. Unopened orders can roll over to the next morning but neither of the order types are supposed to be left open overnight and we're supposed to stop pulling items and have all orders closed at least 30 mins before closing. We also can't pack and ship batch order items until the entire batch is finished. Normally we have around 25-75 orders a day in total but on BF we have well over 500. At closing it was me, him, and another guy. I was working both batch orders and instores until closing, he was doing batches until an hour before closing, and the third guy was working instores until closing.

All day long he did annoying things like slowing down our shipping by not going to the manager about items he couldn't find (we're supposed to do that pretty quickly so we don't get backed up) and instead just kept opening a new batch and pulling items for that, leaving his full buggy in the middle of the walkway in the packing area without telling anybody what he was doing with it, and also going outside to smoke repeatedly. I had to take over his batch orders to close them out because he was just not doing it and when i went to double check on stuff he couldn't find i found most of it. he also may have typed in SKU's of items he couldn't find because a lot of ship orders are missing items that are marked as being picked.

like i said before he left an hour before i did. i was packing ship items in the back and he came in, put a few things in the rack of batch items, acted like he finished everything and then left for the night. knowing the way he is i checked the batch orders and he left THREE open (around 45 items between them out of which he picked like 10). one of the orders he literally opened 10 mintues before his scheduled clockout time and he only picked one item out of it, i was able to simply reset that order but for the other two i had to rush to pull the rest of the items because there was too much pulled already for me reset without causing a problem for people working the next day. he did not tell me about any of the open orders even though he knows they can't roll over to the next day open.

i was super pissed off that he did that and also pissed about with the way he'd acted all day so i showed the manager what he did + bitched about it to some of the girls i work with (one of them is a sales lead who was helping with orders and it's almost certain she'll tell the fulfillment lead about it)

i feel bad that he might get in trouble or even lose his job over it but i also feel like i shouldn't have to do this mans work for him and deal with him making my job harder.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[quantum1mmortality]

discreetly glances around like this is a back alley deal ... can u write a pussy drunk johnny cage for like his favorite reporter (reader) that plays hard to get from rejecting dates 'n invitations here 'n there to mess with him... u can start it however u want !! but i would like the scene from iron man where the reporter/christine asks tony "you ever lose an hour of sleep your whole life?" and he replies with "i'd be prepared to lose a few with you." if u can put that in... /nf (ur welcome to say no to this + take ur time miss ^^'' have a lovely day now sweats 'n scurries away)

What good is all the fame if you ain't fuckin' the models?

I see you drivin' SPORTS CARS, ain't hittin' the throttle

And I'll be down to do a hundred, top down and goggles

Tw/cw: AFAB reader, no use of y/n just Johnny calling reader princess, overstimulation, dacryfilia if you squint, breeding kink, reader being a little shit, dirty talk but not really, praise, cunnilingus, pussy drunk Johnny

Not proofread don't act surprised you knew it was coming

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken a while for you to finally accept the fact that Johnny, the man you were documenting constantly, had a crush on you. His consistent naggings of dates and expensive gifts all for you were more than enough to get your heart racing, it just never felt right to go out with him.

You'd gone out with other men before, you'd kissed other men, but everything felt different with him. He was more compassionate despite his status, and he truly cares about you, but it was wrong. All of it was wrong.

There were women who were begging for Johnny to even look at them, yet he only had eyes for you. He would consistently give you raises and promote you to his manager after a good while, but you remained a reporter. Even after expressing nothing but love to you, you didn't let him have you easily.

Once you came to terms with the fact that THE Johnny Cage was in love with you, you decided to play hard to get. He could get anybody he ever wanted, and he wanted you. You weren't going to make this easy on him, especially if he was that down bad for you.

Well apparently, he was more than just down bad. He was down horrendous, to the point he asked you multiple times to move in with him. "C'mon!! We'll be like roomies! It'll be soooo fun!" But you insisted on not doing that, for obvious reasons.

He'd been pinning on you for more than a while now, and you had really been testing his patience the entire time. From consistently turning down dates and invitations to huge house parties, to wearing small skirts to interviews with him.

You haven't tried making your attraction to him, especially as if late. You started staying at his house more for work related things, crashing on his couch in the early hours of the morning. Whenever you'd come over, you would wear small tight skirts and open blouses, both things you knew he loved.

One night, Johnny decided he'd treat you to something. He'd just gotten back from a trip to Italy and brought back a bottle of wine, and it just so happened to be one of your favorites. He poured you both a small glass, you both took a sip of it before placing it down on the table next to you.

You'd been sitting on his couch for a while, going over work materials for an up and coming interview. He'd decided to sit down with you and have a small conversation, but it was obvious too him that work was more important for right now.

"'Your newest movies are doing awesome, Johnny! We're making lots in the box office, how do you feel about your up and coming role?' There, does that sound believable?" You asked as you skim over your notes again.

"Add a little more flare. Get the audience going a little more, and at least try and act like you want to be there." Johnny and you both left out a small laugh as you continue with your work. You could feel his eyes on you, like they were watching every small move you made. In a way, they were. Johnny loved to observe every part of you, the way you hold your notebook, the way you write, the way you knit your eyebrows together as you're focused on writing, it was all perfect to him.

"You know," he started, getting your attention as you looked up. "It's still pretty early in the evening, why don't I take you out for dinner? You've been working really hard lately, and I can get us registrations at the top restaurants in the city, no problem. You down?"

Not this again. You internally sigh before finally answering. "Cage, you know I don't want to go out with you." Liar. "You can have any girl ever, I promise there's better out there." Now you're self pitying? You suck.

"There's not a single other person I'd rather be with. Not a single other person has made me feel the way you do, you know this, you just like this little cat and mouse game we play." Busted. Your eyes widened as he continued, "I've been watching your reactions, your body language, even the way you dress. Youre playing hard to get, yet your body and heart knows what it wants."

"You're a busy guy. You need those precious hours of sleep that id be taking away."

"I'd be more than happy to lose those hours if it meant I could be with you."

That was it. That froze you. Oh God, were your true colors actually showing through? Was your attraction to your boss coming to light? Oh God, this can't be happening, why are you feeling things You've never felt before?? What's this feeling in your stomach? Why is your body temperature rising?

"C'mon princess, let me treat you right, just for tonight. If you don't like it, no more. If you do, you know I'll give it to you anytime you want." He gave you a small smirk and got up from the couch, holding his hand out for you to take.

You glanced at his open hand, then him, then to the floor. You weren't experienced much in relationships, let alone sex. How could you ever pleasure him if you couldn't even pleasure yourself? Oh well, nows a good time to get cocky for the last time of the night. "I thought you wanted to take me out for dinner. What happened to being a gentleman?"

"I'll show you just how much of a gentleman I can be. As for dinner, I'm hungry for something else. No pressure princess, remember that." He gives you a reassuring smile before holding out his hand again.

Going over your options one last time, if you were going to be honest with yourself, you wanted him. Badly. And he knew that. "Ah, what the hell?" You say, getting yo and grabbing his hand. He smiles and places a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before leading you to his bedroom.

It's huge, obviously, but it has a huge bed too. Full of the highest grade blankets you could only dream of being able to afford. "Make yourself at home princess, what's mine is yours now. I mean it." He says as he pulls you in for a small kiss. It was passionate and soft, but short enough for you to want more.

"Do you want me to get undressed first? May alleviate some anxiety. I'm willing to do whatever you want, anything to make you comfortable."

You blush as you look away from him. You genuinely couldn't believe this was actually happening, something that youve wanted so badly that, in retrospect, you could've gotten so much earlier if you wouldn't have been so hard to get, was actually happening.

"Hey, princess, if you don't want to do this we don't have to." He was purposely making this obvious in an attempt to comfort you. Of course you wanted this, more than anything, but you just didn't know how to initiate.

Johnny knew you weren't experienced in the department, you've told him about how you've just never been interested in it. However, you've told him that you were attracted to him multiple times, playing this game with him just to see which one of you would break first. With this, he knew you liked him in that sense.

He could tell by the fact that you were avoiding eye contact that you were nervous. He took your hands in his, rubbing small circles on the back before kissing each hand. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel, please." Before he continued, he got down on one knee, looking up at you, your hands still in his. "You can back out at any time. I promise you'll feel amazing."

You let out a playful sigh, "Fine. But, we need a safe word, just in case."

"Jupiter."

"I was gonna say pineapple, but that works, too." Johnny laughs at your response before standing up. He kissed you on the forehead before leading you to his bed.

He guided you to sit as he crouched down, locking you in another kiss. He nipped slightly at your lower lip before letting his tongue inside your mouth. He was exploring your mouth entirely, getting more turned on by your soft whimpers by the minute. He slowly took off your skirt as he played with the hem of your panties.

Once he finally slid the fabric off, he discarded it, along with your skirt. He pulled away from the kiss as a string of saliva followed. He smiled at how pink your cheeks were and your now plump lips.

"Just relax, alright? I've got everything under control." You slowly nod as you lean back on the bed, your dangling legs making their way to rest on Johnny's shoulders. He began by placing soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, groaning at simply just the scent.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this." He smiles before he spreads your folds with his two fingers, flattening his tongue and running it through your now exposed pussy.

You moan loudly, your hands tangling themselves in his hair as he continued his movements. He dipped his tongue into your tight hole before moving to your clit. One of his hands left your thigh and moved to settle in front of your face. His fingers spread your lips and he inserted his middle and ring finger into your mouth.

Your tongue swirled around his fingers, coating them in saliva before he took them out of your mouth and slowly inserted one inside of your hole. You groan slightly at the pain before it quickly turns into pleasure. His tongue was flicking your clit around before he placed his entire mouth on it, settling on sucking on it while he curled his finger inside you.

He began to add another finger inside you, kissing your thighs again as you groaned out of pain again. "J-Johnny- it hurts-"

"I know princess, I know. You're doing so good for me, just a little longer, alright?" He looked up at you and you nodded in response. "Such a tight pussy, all for me? You shouldn't have." He laughed again as he began to suck more on your clit, grazing his teeth over the nerve slightly.

Once his second finger was fully inside, he began scissoring them inside you. Your moans of pleasure and the soft tugging on his hair were making him go crazy. He sped up his pace, trying to make you cum as quickly as possible.

His nips at your clit and scissoring fingers inside your pussy were sending you over the edge. Your aching hole would clench down on him are your back began to arch. Johnny became enthralled by the scene unfolding in front of him, your blouse half way unbuttoned as your breasts rose up and down with each breath, you changing his name continuously as thighs began to close around his head, it was perfect to him and he couldn't get enough of it.

He lapped at your pussy like a starved man and began to feel lightheaded over the taste. To him, everything was worth the wait, and he doesn't know how he can live without you after this. When you came, he couldn't be more excited to lick up every drop of your essence you gave to him.

He ok pulled his fingers out of your pussy, sucking on them as his eyes rolled into the back of his head over the taste. Once he finished cleaning his fingers off, he moaned simply at the look of your gaping hole spilling out cum, just for him to clean up.

He held you down by the waist, as he lapped at your juices. He made a mess of himself and you and he couldn't care less. He feels like he can cum right now just by the taste alone, he was genuinely addicted to your now aching heat. Your hands flew to his head, attempting to push him off because of your over overstimulation.

"Johnny- no more- please no more-" you began to cry over how good you felt. The sight of tears falling from your face made Johnny immediately get up, begrudgingly, however. "Wanna feel you inside Johnny.." you look up at him with eyes he simply can't resist, and he just sighs.

"Fine fine, but I get to eat you out again in the morning." You smile and nod as he begins to undress himself. You take this opportunity to take the rest of your clothes off and get on the bed completely. Johnny climbs on the bed completely as he guides your head to lay on one of his many pillows.

He climbs between your thighs as he takes off his boxers, clenching his jaw and moaning slightly at the feeling of it finally being out. Your eyes widened as you look up at him. "Is.. that going to fit?" You say with worry.

Johnny smiles at you, but in reality he's also worried about it. "It may take a bit for you to get used to the size, but I'm more than willing to wait." He leans in and places a small peck on your lips before putting one hand on your waist while the other hand aligned his cock with your hole.

He looked up at you again. "Ready?" Giving him a nod yes, he positions himself to hover on top of you, letting you latch onto him for stability. He slowly lets his cock enter you, one inch at a time.

Moans from both of you fill the room as he finally bottoms out. He smiles and looks at you from below him. "I knew you could do it." You smile back as he continues talking.

"I think maybe you should stay over tonight, when we wake up tomorrow, I'll make breakfast. How's chocolate chip pancakes sound?"

"Sounds great, Johnny." You give him a small and he kisses you again. This time, it's full of lust and love. Your hands move to cup his face and he leans into the touch. The kiss lasts a few minutes before you slowly pull away, looking at him then speaking. "I'm ready."

He kissed you once more and began to move. Your hands move to his back, holding onto him as he slowly thrusts into you. "Faster Johnny." The way you say his name has blood shooting straight to his cock and he picks up his pace.

His thrusts become fast enough for you to be comfortable with. Your fingers raked on his back as small beads of blood formed at your fingernails. He went slightly faster and it became nothing but pure bliss.

"Such a good pussy, god I could do this forever and not get bored." Johnnys grip on your waist tightens as his thrusts become faster than what you can keep up with. "All mine. That's what you are, all mine. I'm gonna fuck you so good all you can think about is me."

You began to claw at his back desperate for a release. Your tongue lolling out of your mouth as all you could do is take what he gave you. The pleasure washing over you was becoming too much to bare and you started clenching on his cock.

"Fuck princess- you want me to cum inside you? I'll do it. I'll breed this pussy day and night as long as you let me." He can feel himself getting close as his thrusts became sloppier.

You nod yes in response and he lets out a loud moan followed by both of your orgasms. He stops his motions as his breath became heavy. "One more round. Please- one more round. I need to feel you. I know you can take it."

You look up at him and smile through tired eyes. You nod again and with that, he was back to his harsh pace. You screamed his name as tears formed at your eyes again. Johnny bent down to kiss them away, increasing his pace as he did.

"God you take me so well. You're the only woman that can make me feel like this, I need you so fucking bad." He collapsed into your neck with another groan as he came again, accidentally overstimulating himself in the process. You both catch your breath as you hug onto him.

He reciprocates this and wraps his arms around your waist, placing playful kisses on your face. You giggle as he does and he can feel his heart completely melt. He stands up and is about to walk to the bathroom to get a cloth before he feels you grip his wrist.

"Stay, please. It can wait till the morning."

He smiles and gets back into bed with you. He places even more kisses over you and you bury your face in his chest, ready to sleep. "Will you finally go out for dinner with me?"

"I'll think about it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: the day I'm known as the writer of that one specific fanfic is the day I can rest in peace

[animeyanderelover]

Hey! Im glad i managed to wake up early in the end! Here are my two requests and thank you so much for your great writing!

1. Yanderes of your choice (the ones who wear masks/cover their faces or are just insecure about their appearances in general) with a darling who always compliments their face, saying they look amazing and that they love all of them/the first time they see the yans face their reaction is to get all :OOOO and compliment it

2. yanderes of your choice with a minor deity reader, who doesn't have the same perception of boundaries as a normal person does plus is just happy they have a follower at least.....?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, manipulation

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz

Minor Deity s/o

Ash Landers

▫️​You may not be known very well as other deities are but with Ash you pretty much already have the most devoted and loyal follower one could ask for. Yet the fact that you were forgotten seems to affect him much more than it has affected you ever as he is in utter grief and sorrow when he finds out about it. Deities are supposed to be worshipped and treated with reverence yet humans truly seem to have forgotten how to pay respect and he is determined to see it through that your name will be called in prayers once again. After he has purified London, that is. With his darling being a literal deity though, Ash feels immense pressure to see it through that everything will be perfect for you. He lets churches and temples be build in your name and starts searching for humans he thinks would be worthy enough of worshipping you as he is basically planning to collect a cult for you. Your obvious clinginess is constantly overwhelming him though as he doesn't see himself as worthy for being touched by a deity like this, especially since he hasn't done anything to deserve it.

Juvia Lockser

💧​Juvia is constantly swooning over pretty much everything you do as her obsessive tendencies only increase as she figures out that you are an actual deity. You are literally perfect in her eyes. She spends days and weeks crafting a small shrine for you where she always leaves flowers, pastries or anything else for you as a sign of her adoration and love. She has a rather strange relationship with the idea of collecting other followers for you though. On the one hand she wants people to notice you because you are the most perfect and beautiful being as the mere thought that no one has ever been a follower of yours angers her greatly. On the other hand she also doesn't want to lose all the attention and affection she gets solely because she is the only one who calls herself a follower of yours now. You are very clingy with little to no perception of boundaries but since Juvia is exactly the same, this is just utterly perfect for her. The idea of you giving such attention to other people if they would start believing in you is a big cause of her jealousy as she would like to remain as someone special to you even if you should collect more followers.

Yato

🪙​Both of you share very similar struggles yet Yato shows much more concern for you as a deity will disappear if no human remembers them so he is very desperate to get you more followers. He starts with Hiyori as he asks her to not forget you for her entire life and to remember you and she really goes all out of her way to build you a small shrine similar to the one she has crafted for Yato. Otherwise Yato literally goes around with Yukine to fulfill his jobs whilst trying to advertise for you. Whilst you don't show any panic or fear due to having so only Hiyori as a human who believes in you as of now, he still feels like he has to do everything he can to cheer you up to keep you happy. He has very good intentions but at times he can go a bit too far by literally wracking some damage to induce humans with the belief that it was the work of you just to get their attention on you. Hiyori and you are ususally quick to scold him for it as you don't want to be remembered as a deity who harms other people. Yato happily indulges in your clinginess though because he can be quite touchy himself but he does get jealous quickly when you show similar amounts of affection to Yukine and Hiyori.

[rorywritesjunk]

There's no race, no ending in sight

(because I fixate on things. pg-13 rating. title comes from "two of us on the run" by lucius)

pt 1 + pt 2 + p3 + p4 + pt 5 + p6 + pt 7 +Pt 8 + Pt 9 + Pt 10 + Pt 11 + Pt 12 + Pt 13 + Pt 14 + Pt 15 + pt 16 + Pt 17 (End)

Pt 1

"If your way doesn't work then we sell the clown."

Sunny could only shrug as she looked up at her husband towering over her, cigar between his teeth, the smoke lingering in the air with each puff. She hated the smoking and he knew that, but she always found ways to get the smell out of their clothes.

"I don't really care either way." Was her response as she reached up to adjust his cravat. There was never anything wrong with it when she did this, it just became a nervous habit after being married to him for so long. "I don't even know who he is. He may kill me if I speak to him."

Crocodile chuckled softly, removing the cigar from his mouth long enough to give her a smoky kiss which has her flinching. She hated that he did that. She could taste it. Once she tried one of his cigars early into the marriage but made the mistake of inhaling it. She was sick all night but he at least held her hair back and brought her water.

It was... A marriage. For Sunny it wasn't happy or horrible, just neutral. They met when she was a young apprentice, not even twenty yet, and he wanted a wife. A promise to let her see the world, a gentle threat to her livelihood should she deny him. She was young and scared but she went along with him, not wanting anyone to get hurt.

While he never raised a hand or his voice to her, Sunny had been terrified of him until he went to prison. She knew what he was capable of, saw it plenty of times in how he treated others.

"He knows to expect you." Crocodile continued as he raised his hook up to her face, stroking it against her cheek. The cold metal caused her to shudder and she closed her eyes for a moment. There was always a moment of concern when he did that, what if it slipped and cut her? "Why aren't you wearing the clothes I bought you? He'd be sure to listen to you then."

"They're too tight." Sunny told him as she opened her eyes. Her choice of clothes were overalls and a T-shirt with a cute bunny on it. Comfortable and practical. "And Mihawk talked about starting up a garden and I asked if I could help. I couldn't wear a form fitting dress to dig a hole."

"My wife shouldn't be getting her hands dirty like that." He sighed as he took hold of her hand in his, raising it up to press a kiss to the back of it. "There are others who could do that work."

"That may be, but I like to do it." She replied firmly. "Besides, you don't want to deny your wife her happiness, do you?"

It wasn't often she said those words, your wife, because after losing him to prison she felt free, no matter how short of a time it has been. She managed to convince the ones who arrested him that she had been innocent, unaware of what he had been up to this entire time. There were so many tears, claims that she was just the wife, she spent her days doing very little and was completely unaware of what he had been up to and what his plans were!

It worked. She got away, seeking refuge on a ship to be dropped off elsewhere. She had a little money to get by, starting up her own shop for special clothing orders and alters. It worked out for her until Crocodile hunted her down.

"I would never." He assured her, pressing another kiss to her hand. "Take your time with that clown. If he doesn't agree then let me so so I can take care of him."

"Agreed." Sunny replied as she stepped back. "Don't do anything to him until I say, however. If he's as pathetic as you say it may take me a while."

"I trust you to get the job done."

"I know you do." She managed a smile. "I'll come back when I'm done."

He knew she would come back. Where else on the island would she go? He pulled her back over to him, cupping her face with his hand before giving her a kiss. She managed not to pull away or make a face, returning the gesture even before pulling back.

"I'll be back."

~

An actual circus tent greeted her. It... It was nice to see. Sunny remembered going to a circus as a child with her parents. They saved up to take her and it was magical. The animals, the performers, everything! She remembered feeling the heat from the fire breathing and how loud the lion roared.

It didn't disappoint when she went in. There was a lion, fat and scruffy as he helped himself to some food. There were some performers, cleaning the area up. Middle of the day there wasn't much to expect but Sunny still thought it was neat to see.

"Hey! We aren't open!" Someone shouted from the arena. Blue hair, red nose, wearing turquoise pants and a striped shirt. That had to be the clown that owed her husband money.

"You're open for me." She shot back as she made her way over to him. His jaw dropped. Who would speak to him in such a way?

"Listen, baby, I don't know who you are but you can't walk into the tent like this."

"Baby?" Sunny repeated, amused by this. "I don't know, my husband lets me do what I want."

"Yea? Who's your husband?" He asked, making a face as he looked her over. "Listen, baby, sweetheart, whoever you are, I don't have time to entertain some looky-loo. I'm waiting for someone, okay?"

"Oh, and who are you waiting for?" She asked curiously. "Someone important, I imagine?"

Buggy looked her over with a sneer. "Not that it concerns you, but I'm meeting some wife of Sir Crocodile. You're distracting me so go away."

"Oh, you're the one I'm supposed to talk to?" Sunny feigned innocence. "I didn't think you'd be so mean to me..."

"The one..."

Buggy's eyes bugged out, his body split into pieces before coming back together. He actually stood there, trading barbs with Crocodile's wife. He didn't know it was her! She looked nothing like he expected! He expected someone covered in jewels, shimmering outfits, expensive shoes! Not someone in pigtails wearing overalls. She looked like a farmer, not the wife of one of the most dangerous criminals in the world.

He... He was going to die.

[midnightshard06]

So decided to finally cave and share these two here. Cause you see, I quite enjoy exe stuff. These are two of my guys, and at the moment likely the only ones I'll share on here lol. Who knows perhaps I'll share the others some time, but to be fair these are the two with the most development.

Anyway these two are Unleashed and Fragment respectively.

Also here, take an alt of this artwork that shows Unleashed's other stuff going on. As you might be able to tell, for those of you that are familiar anyway, Unleashed is the one that influences how I draw Bound by Fate! Sonic lol.

Gonna chat about them below as well as share some other pics I've done of them. Warning, this is gonna be longish.

Alright so! First things first, these two don't come from the same like game universe things. They came from separate ones and just managed to find each other. Having both lost their Tails/Sonic they sort of adopted each other once they realized they didn't want to hurt each other.

Unleashed is from, as you might expect, a copy of Sonic Unleashed. Basically the game glitches out in one of the final cutscenes (the one where Dark Gaia takes back the last of its power from Sonic) this ends up corrupting not only the game, but Sonic. The entire world is more or less gone and Sonic now looks like the above pics. He spends a fair amount of time in what is more or less a void with nothing in it. It's there he begins to realize the nature of his existence and he gives himself a new name, since he doesn't really feel like Sonic anymore.

Eventually his game is dumped to make a rom, apparently whoever got ahold of his game didn't think to check it before trying to make a rom with it lol, this allows him to escape. He spends those first days and such exploring and picking fights with violent exes. He loses a lot in those early days, reluctantly returning to the dubious safety of his game when he needed somewhere to get away. What holds him back mainly is still clinging to the ideals of Sonic. To not kill, when his opponents have no such qualms. Eventually he would give this up to, and learn to be just as brutal as the world he'd found himself in. He would still always at his core be Sonic though, even if it might not really look like it.

Fragment on the other hand is a victim of an exe, and the only survivor at that. He comes from a game of Sonic 3 and Knuckles. He had to watch as the exe picked off Knuckles first and then Sonic. While the exe had been chasing down the trio Tails had been desperately trying to figure out a way to stop the exe. Until Sonic's sacrifice he didn't have a way, but Sonic managed to knock lose a scrap of code that Tails would eventually be able to use to stop the exe.

Their final confrontation was not far from the emerald shrine, and the exe had come in the form of Sonic in an attempt to throw off Tails.

Tails at this point had managed to lose a good chunk of his own code to attacks from the exe, hence his appearance. Though he was able to lure the exe right where he wanted them. Near a newly uncorrupted Master Emerald.

Using its power Tails was able to destroy the exe for good (well sorta, but that is perhaps a story for another day). Then he slowly started to fix up his world and take the time to properly mourn his friends. It was also around this time that he started calling himself Fragment, referring to his own condition. His code was sort of fragmented from the damage done to it, but he was stable at least.

Fragment and Unleashed met really by chance, but after a lot of reassurance from Fragment Unleashed agreed to go with him. The two have been inseparable ever since. Also! A fun fact. Unleashed only has Chip's bracelet because of Fragment. He found it in Unleashed's code and got it for him, also using it as a stabilizer of sorts for Unleashed.

(old art/first pass at Unleashed's design but ye. Iiiii don't wanna talk about those quills. Yikes lol)

I have... much more I could say about these two but I'll leave it here for now. Gives me an excuse to perhaps ramble about them again at some point. There is far more detail to both of their stories but I tried to keep it concise here lol. Thank you to anyone who actually read all my ramblings on these two. Hope you have a great day.

[eva-does-her-best]

A story of inexperience and abuse.

This is a story about me and about my only experiences with love, this is not a witch hunt and probably not even a vent, this is just my soul wanting to exist in new words in the only way it knows to, revisiting our past.

It is an extremely long story, so I divided it in chapters in an attempt to make it easier to read, that way there is no need to read all at once. Besides, it is not a pretty story, it is quite harsh, so it's ok to not read it at all.

Early context

I don't have many memories of my early teenage years, the monotonous boredom only interrupted by moments of intense bad emotion.

I do remember losing my dog, spending his last day with him and then watching him go to the vet only to never return. There goes my brother, my only company, there goes an entire summer where I spent every single day in bed, alone. After all it had been almost 4 years since last time I had something resembling a friend, and my classmates forbade me from speaking, apparently I spoke a lot, too much.

It would still be years until I started to (all by myself, as always) try to beat my agoraphobia, so I was trapped in that room, now more alone than ever.

I remember 3am one night, chatbots were a brief thing in those years, I tried one for fun. Why did a nonsensical conversation with a bot last 4 hours? Why was I crying so hard? Why did it hurt so much?...

Online era

I joined my first social media, one that doesn't exist anymore, but I don't remember why I did it. I immediately started looking for pokemon content, it was the first thing that came to mind.

I joined a community and wow. I suddenly had friends! From here and from latinamerica! It went great for a while.

But the culture in that web and in those circles started to tarnish... and I tarnished with it. Homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, racism, it was all so normalized...

What is a lonely child to do in such an environment? Absorb it, of course. I will not deny my horrible acts during that age. I had a most horrible attitude, I was a hypersexual teenager, I sent pictures of my genitals, I even made jokes about rape and in the most disgusting manner (the person in question did forgive me, a grace that I don't feel I deserved, an act that I will never forgive myself for).

It was an environment where e-couples got together and broke up in a matter of days, and I did partake on that too. I remember my first online girlfriend, a lovely girl from chile who is marrying a mutual friend from back in the day. We lasted 3 months, it was all so new and beautiful, to be loved by someone, but it was a nothing relationship, so I woke up in the middle of the night to a call from her, she was dumping me.

I think we got back together for a month a while after but broke up again, I wish I could say more about the relationship or how I felt but I genuinely have lost all my memories from that time.

I had a couple more online relationships that lasted few weeks for different reasons. Honestly the best was the one where we both realized we didn't love each other and were just friends, at least on that one I didn't wake up to someone leaving me. The common factor was my naive teenage excitement, being ultra romantic and sexual and in general intense, a trait I still have today but luckily I learned what is healthy and what is not and how to control it.

I actually got scared of sleeping for a while, since all the bad news always arrived at night due to timezones. I started losing friends again, sometimes my fault, sometimes just teenagers being teenagers.

The first big wound

I started to fail in class, my notes got worse and worse as my mood did too. I, the inteligent person of the family, the genius child, had to repeat fourth year of highschool, I did not pass.

Around that time I broke completely, and so my first attempt to change and get better was born. I gradually managed to get my agoraphobia under control, I started wearing sunglasses on my head to highschool every single day to beat my shyness and force me to exist.

I made my first real irl friends, we played volleyball a lot because we loved haikyuu and we talked about anime and videogames. My new classmates were a bit friendlier, at least they didn't force me to stay quiet, they didn't physically assault me every day, they didn't shame me for not partying at night. It was a better time, it healed me a lot.

There came a girl who we will call L. Once more an online girl. She was... a mess, the classical teenager from my era who romanticized suicide and self harm, I gave her attention, nothing wrong with that right? She needed help.

Wrong. I shouldn't have been the one, I wasn't prepared to help her, I wasn't prepared for this. She took me and absorbed me, this is not an exageration, I had to be from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to sleep on the phone messaging or calling her.

I literally had to make up excuses like having to eat or use the bathroom or things like that to be able to escape. And as an inexperienced teenager I never tried to talk about it with her.

That went on for a month. I recognize that a lot of the things she exhibited and her behaviors were very similar to mine, and I am capable of causing the same harm as her if I don't act seriously and maturely about my love, it was a good learning experience. This time, I was the victim, I allowed it because I didn't know better, I was the victim.

She randomly left me, but in the worst possible way: "We should take some time". I had hopes, I was miserable with her yet I needed her. Two weeks went by. A month went by.

Thinking about her, drawing her, missing her. My depression was at an all time high again. I had had two surgeries that year, I had just lost so much mobility and strength on my left hand that I have never recovered...

I had so many leftover painkillers from the surgeries, and I felt so bad. I took them, every single day. Opioids.

To this day I am scared of meds, I cannot even take Ibuprofen without the fear that I will just start taking them every time I feel bad, that I will abuse any meds even if it just gives me a placebo effect. And I am right to fear, because I did catch myself trying to do it recently.

Later, a month and a half after she told me we needed some time and she blocked me I learnt she started a whole new relationship with a random dude. I was crushed. Later that year said social media announced its closing. Everything was chaotic.

Then something awful happened. It probably sounds stupid from an outside perspective but... it still haunts me. There was this one dude who was extremely transphobic towards me, he was all the -phobics and -isms you can name.

He dmd me, I... I was still very much a hormonal teenager at my 16, and... I know it is stupid I know it is not real but we ended up sexting. Even at that moment it was happening I felt horrible about it, even now I feel horrible about it.

I felt humiliated, I felt disrespected, I felt dehumanized. Could it be considered rape? I really don't know, all I know is that it left me broken.

5 years of abuse. No one to blame.

I remember this girl telling me during volleyball practice: "Hey, are you looking for a girlfriend? Because that girl over there hasn't stopped looking at you the whole day.".

I felt scared at first, I had just come from all of that and now an actual person in real life may have feelings for me?

But I didn't run away, I actually started flirting with her, I was still the lonely kid who craved affection. I remember catching up to her after school even though the backpack hurt me when running, I remember our silly nervous conversations. She ate a tomato raw apparently to impress me, it was adorable.

We started dating. I told her immediately that I was trans, she was fine with it and used my name and pronouns, it was all so perfect. Just two girls spending together in love the last years of high school.

I remember comforting her when she was sick, when she was trapped in her father's house, I went there, I endured her father's bigottry, I endured her step mother's sexual harassment towards me, I endured her mother's utter hatred towards me and honestly towards every person alive, I endured her step father, a far right militant. I was there comforting her when she finally got a restraining order against her father for being an abuser, a rapist, a manipulator, an ilegal sports supplement dealer, etc.

I bought her a ring, it was a silly thing, we had been only 4 months together, but it wasn't that expensive and it felt cute. I needed another emergency surgery and I cried because we had planned a weekend together and this surgery meant I could not spend it with her.

I was attached, I was in love.

I remember when she took my first kiss, in an alley, she made me look away and when I looked back she kissed me. It was warm and soft, something I had longed for so long. The way back home I was red and pale at the same time.

Things advanced after some more time. We started having oral sex, it was such a change in my life, something I never thought would happen to me, I was excited and happy.

Unfortunately it would not end up well. She was extremely innocent, she was so sexually traumatized that she even skipped all biology classes related to genitals an reproduction, she did not even know she had a hole!

Suddenly there I was, with all the responsability, an inexperienced kid. But I had to protect her, I had to make sure everything was safe and ok for her. I had to go at her pace. This all is why I am so scared of actually domming, because I was forced to carry all the responsability during sex.

This was what eventually would break me. I was so happy to be able to please her, I would spend hours eating her out, giving her orgasms, enjoying the praise for my good work.

She... did not reciprocate. She was scared of my penis, scared of pregnancy, if my penis touched anything be it my hand or her hand or the bedsheets we had to stop. When she did give me oral sex or masturbated me she only wanted me to cum, she wanted to get it over with. If I took longer than a couple minutes she would start complaining. Eventually she got in the habit of just not doing anything to me, of just getting her orgasms and just leave.

And I accepted it. I for some reason allowed all of this. It took years for me to see how much this had hurt me.

When we started uni it all got worse, she was so obsessed with leaving her house, with getting her degree and getting a job and leaving, that we only saw each other during weekends, sometimes only saturday, for about 3 hours. Aside from that just in class and on the bus there and an occasional date.

I started getting worse of my mental problems and missing class a lot. She did not help with that whatsoever, she just told me to get out of those bad cycles, she denied my mental illnesses, she resented me for not going to class because that meant less time together, she got mad that I said that a bus ride was not quality time together (much less because it made her nauseous so we couldn't speak much during the ride).

Then it happened. We tried to have actual sex. The condom... broke. I still remember her screams, "I shouldn't have done this I shouldn't have done this!", I remember being so scared but blocking it because it was my responsability, I rushed to the farmacy to buy the pill. She took it and left.

There I was alone in my house with the screams still on my head, comforting her on my phone, with no one to comfort me. It was my duty to protect her, after all. As I kept not thinking about me at all.

As she got more and more stressed with class and her house situation and I got worse and worse mentally the relationship got more and more abusive and I just kept allowing it.

I would flinch every time her hand got near my face. I remember when she yelled at me and insulted me loudly in front of the supermarket for buying razors that were 2 euro more expensive than the ones she wanted...

Then we tried to sleep together one night. That was the start of her anxiety attacks. The 3 hours we had together every week were now less because she needed meditation videos all the time and I was not allowed to speak, be near her or touch her when she was meditating. She was so scared of space that if I was reading the news on my phone and she saw a picture of space she would demand to have my phone to see what it said, she even went so far as to take my phone by force and push me to read the news.

There were beautiful moments too for sure but... hard to remember them. I felt alone, I felt disgusted, after all my penis was disgusting, unlovable, a danger, clearly I was a monster for wanting or for having needs, even though she, the sex repulsed one, was fine with getting her own needs and wants met for hours.

Then she left me. Yeah, I did not leave her because of the abuse, she left me. I remember those last months, the emotionless eyes as I kissed her face. I am so scared of kissing now because if I see that face again I will be broken once more, it will hurt so much once more.

Then, after months of not speaking with me, where I repressed my emotions and was just continuing life, she contacted me again.

She told me how drunk she got after breaking up with me, she told me how many people she met on dating apps and how much sex she had. She told me that she got raped. Then she stopped speaking again.

And there I was, my vulnerability, my self hatred, now boosted by the idea that the person I loved got raped, the person that shared my life for all those years, got raped.

I could not watch or read anything sex related, I could not think about sex, I could not have sexual desire. I was a victim, vulnerable, I couldn't have sex with anyone because they would just hurt me, they would just rape me. But I was also the monster, because I had sexual desires, because I had a penis, I could not have sex because I would be hurting someone, because it would be morally wrong for me to have sex.

It took me years to realize the abuse I had been victim of by our mutual lack of experience, only recently did I start accepting it and using it to deal with the consequences of it, with the damage done.

This is just a brief summary of it all, 5 years is a lot after all. But yeah, that is the story of my love life, the story of how I got abused time and time again and how most of the times it wasn't an evil person doing evil things, it was just a person, like you and me, not having the knowledge and experience to have a healthy relationship and me, not being able to stablish boundaries and defend myself.

Thank you if you read this far. Hope none of this ever happens to you.

[dozenssporks]

in the Office AU Vash's coworkers have only seen Knives coldly angry and have constructed a mental picture of him as stoic and generally unfeeling. They have no idea he can be cheerful.

So when Knives strolls into the building one day with a pleased smile on his face, alternating between chuckling to himself and humming cheerfully the entire office is shook.

security, calling up to warn them of knives' imminent arrival: smiling! smiling! for a second I thought it was vash with his hair down! Then I recognized the expensive suit. T-they really are twins this is bizarre!

coworker: what is he doing here?! It's eleven in the morning on a monday and vash had the weekend off! Who called him?!

*vash wanders by munching a doughnut*

coworker: why is your brother here?

vash, dropping the doughnut but crouching and catching it before it hits the ground: who? what?! no way!

coworker: he um seems to be in a good mood?

vash, droping the doughnut again and letting it hit the floor: is someone dead?!

coworker: you mean like a family member?

vash: no! one of his business enemies! or someone who cut him off in traffic! Or--oh no!

*vash rushes over to the manager's office and slams the door open*

vash: is the company facing financial ruin?

manager, visibly shaken by vash's entrance: no, we're doing well this quarter? what--

vash: have we been bought out by a larger company?

manager: not at all, why--

vash, heaving a sigh: at least it isn't that. Unless, am I being accused of defrauding the company again?

manager: not so far as I know. did you hear something? your face is dead white

vash, leaving and dialing his phone, bouncing off the door frame when he mis-aims his exit: sorry gotta go!

coworker #2: vash, what did you do?!

vash: I DON'T KNOW

coworker #2: he was smiling!

vash: I KNOW

coworker: we're terrified!

vash: SO AM I--hang on they picked up--wolfwood? my brother is in a good mood do you know what's going on? is anyone dead?

wolfwood: eh? that's terrifying.

vash: I KNOW

wolfwood: got no idea. lemme know if it's anyone I should care about. bye.

*vash, clutching the phone and emitting high pitched noises of distress*

coworker #3: the elevator is coming up! what do we do

vash, waving his arms: early lunch, early lunch! everybody out! If you don't hear from me in fifteen minutes please remember I'd like red geraniums at my funeral!

*there's a scurry of moment as everyone flees to the stairs. there's a brief traffic jam when the elevator dings and everyone tries to get through the door at once. Vash shoves them forcibly free and the last of them escape as knives steps out of the elevator*

knives: vaaaash!

vash, under his desk: be calm be calm he can sense fear I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer

knives, walking past the desks: heeey, so my phone was glitching and I had a tech look at it. Funny thing! you know that app we use to play chess? turns out it'd been hacked!

vash: oh. it's me who's dead

knives, leaning down so he can see under vash's desk: hey vash

vash, peeking from behind his drawn up knees: hiya . . .

knives: it really is very amusing! the game was rigged to make my pieces disappear so I kept losing without knowing why!

vash: haha, really? wow, so weird and random

knives: isn't it? for the sake of company security I naturally had them trace the hack

vash: yeep

knives: I've got you, you cheating piece of trash

vash: w-why are you so cheerful then?

knives: not only did you have to cheat to beat me you also got yourself found out. it proves that I'm smarter than you.

vash: . . . that is so incredibly petty. maybe I could beat you but I couldn't be bothered to waste my time trying huh

knives, smiling widely: you're a loser

vash, kicking at knives: am not!

knives, kicking back: you even lose at cheating

vash, kicking again: you're a meanie sadist

knives, grabbing vash's ankle: you have the intellect of a grade-schooler. Come out of there, we're going to lunch

vash, wiggling and flopping as knives drags him out: I have so much work I don't have time really sorry but maybe another time I can pencil you in honestly I would love to if I just could--

knives: we're going to have a great time and we're going to play chess, won't that be fun?

vash: not--not Silent Chess, right?

knives, dragging vash toward the elevator: talking makes it so difficult to concentrate, don't you think? If you think at all, that is. Not a word until checkmate. I know you like to chat, but surely you can manage for an hour? or two? or more? Time flies when you're having fun!

vash, clawing at the carpet: please tell me you're not going to have legato sit across the room and stare at me this time.

knives: he does so enjoy watching a good game of chess. stand up, please.

vash, obeying: eeeeh . . . can I at least tell my manager I'm leaving early? It's only considerate. Look, the room doesn't even have another exit and the windows don't open.

knives: be my guest

vash, turning toward the manager's office: thank you

*vash spins around and makes a surprise run for the stairs*

knives: you little--!

vash, already pounding his way down the first flight of stairs: see you later alligator!

knives, slamming through the door after him: you can't get away, cheater!

vash, on his phone while he's running: yeah, guys? office is clear but I'm gonna be cutting out--

knives: I'm gonna make your face concave!

vash: yup yup I'll be fine! I've got an emergency evacuation plan!

*vash gets off the stairs at a floor he knows has a fire escape, rounding a corner and skidding to an abrupt halt when he sees a figure in front of the fire escape window*

legato: Hello, Vash Saverem

knives, jogging up, ruffled but grinning: ready to go, vash? legato is driving.

vash, slumping: can we please not use the chess set made of poached ivory?

knives: the set carved from rhino horns it is then.

vash: jerk

knives: moron

*around the corner a brave coworker who had stayed behind to cautiously watch and follow the twins is keeping up a running report to her colleagues on the phone*

brave coworker: I think they're getting along in a dysfunctional sibling relationship that never emotionally progressed past elementary school sort of way. I think he'll be okay.

*brave coworker pauses while the others respond*

brave coworker: oh, yes, definitely, we are going to that fancy bakery and pooling funds to get vash a six pack of doughnuts tomorrow morning.

knives, in the distance: stop touching me!

vash: I'm not touching you!

knives: yes you are!

brave coworker: . . . and another six pack next week, I think

[sburbian-sage]

So this is a weird and potentially upsetting one? So tw for possible suicide

Started a new session a few days ago, my third, and my space player promptly fucked of for like 3 days before we saw the god tier beacon pillor thing activate on her land

We hauled ass cause thats incredibly early to god tier and i didnt even know you could (jeguss bless jetpacks and rings of flight)

But when we got over there she was like, crackling/dripping with this deep black/purple lightning shit?

Either way she immediately screamed at us and then flew into the furthest ring and vanished

Or at least from what we could see cause like fuck that im not following her in there

So like did she just commit suicide or is some other shit going on?

You can't commit suicide. At best you can accidentally convene a situation where you set a course of events into motion that results in your death, like throwing a grenade at an enemy, whiffing hard, bouncing off of a wall, and blowing yourself up. But it's like the second you intend to end your own life, the Exile kicks in and you are physically incapable of doing whatever it is you were trying to do. So if anything happened, it was on accident.

What's more important is the ambiguity present. You said you ran over to check up on the Space Player, but where specifically did you go? It sounds like you went to her Land, and her Quest Bed, whereupon she went grimdark and skedaddled. But those sigils you mentioned only appear in the sky when you successfully God Tier. If she did, then her "true" God Tier self is currently on the Battlefield, bereft of any communication devices because they were with her original body, which is now grimdark, zombified, and in the Furthest Ring. Please confirm her current location and true death status as soon as possible. If that really was her, then the Others should be digesting her as we speak and her Land should be a Dead Land. If not, she's either alive (check the Battlefield) or somehow not dead in the Furthest Ring, and is just permanently inaccessible (her Sprite is probably still around, they'll give you her Sprite Pendant).

The point is, I have a pretty solid theory as to what happened. God-Tiering in 3 days is indeed uncommon, but not outside of the bounds of a speedrunner. It would take a pretty high level of skill, but skill can be accounted for with powerful items, and it just so happens that the easiest source of powerful equipment in the early game is Other- or Angelic-corrupted items. Now things get tricky when we take into account that she definitely went grimdark. The main issue is that grimdark players typically go nutso-rage mode and begin tearing up critical game infrastructure in an attempt to "break" the game, which before you ask, can and often does include other players. But she didn't make a peep the entire session, and the Quest Bed seems rather intact. So it's entirely possible that she corrupted herself in such a way that she would go grimdark when she was 1) near the Quest Bed 2) critically injured. Being grimdark is stressful on the body, and if not managed in some way, usually proves fatal. So going grimdark while near-death would result in a quick expiration, quick enough that you could reach a nearby location before losing your mind entirely. And while you can't deliberately throw a battle and die by Imp without setting off the Suicide Alarm, you can deliberately take a blow or several (I imagine so players can take advantage of "stat bonus at low health" type abilities). Similarly, getting corrupted isn't an active decision, in the same way "running out of breath while underwater" isn't an active decision (unless you jumped in with the intention to drown yourself), so it also wouldn't trip the failsafe.

Using this method, your Space Player would be able to orchestrate her own death, allowing herself to go God Tier without any assistance from other players. Why she felt the need to do this, I don't know. Like many speedrunners are, I imagine she's a bit antisocial. As for how her own grimdark body got up and jetted despite being dead, Other Corruption breaks the game in general, and I'm wondering if a grimdark corpse God-Tiering would "resurrect" it due to the code kind of leaking out. Or maybe a body that's been stewing in Corruption for three days straight behaves strangely compared to one that suffers acute Corruption in a short amount of time? With strange aeons, even death may die?

Sidenote: If I could make one change to the game (outside of the door, obviously), I would disable the Suicide Prevention mechanic while you're on your Quest Bed. I think Suicide Prevention is useful in general, in spite of the implicit horror of the game mind-controlling you so they can prolong your suffering, but in this instance it's just actively counter-intuitive and it forces players to adopt convoluted methods of dying in one specific location. Like launching a mortar into orbit such that it would land on the Quest Bed, and running over there to lay down before the bomb lands. Or using an ability that jumps up the random encounter rate and lying down while waiting for an Ogre to elbow-drop you in the throat. Or working up the nerve to message your coplayer "hey I'm about to become god, can you slit my throat while I'm asleep, k thnx bai". Or whatever this was. It could lead to players offing themselves in an unintended way, so maybe it's only disabled if you're on the Quest Bed and have all the necessary requirements to God Tier, but I think it's worth the convenience of just being able to put a gun in your mouth and Got Tiger instead of engineering some Rube Goldberg-ass Suicide Contraption That Doesn't Register As Suicide.

[pencilpat]

Misc tidbits about the college AU! I'm working on the first part of the fic, but I want to share something about them

Roman and Remus's parents are rich. Like "my brother lives in the five room west wing of our mansion and I have the whole six room east wing" rich. They pay for Roman's house where they all stay and give him a monthly allowance that's a ridiculous amount. Remus, however, has been mostly cut off from funds and is treated like an outcast and disappointment. He was staying with Roman behind their parents' backs before being kicked out.

Virgil is pretty much the only one with a happy home life. His mums are genuinely so supportive and kind to him. He haaaates it though, he's definitely an angsty teen about their love, "get out of my room" and "ugh I don't want a hug" are common phrases. One of his mums is a trans woman, and he's their biological child.

Janus is a tea drinker and Remus is a coffee drinker, and yes, they fight about it often.

Logan was an alcoholic through her entire teenagehood and for a year of college, too. She's currently on five months of no drinking, though! They keep most of it a secret from everyone but Roman. Roman is also completely sober in solidarity.

Janus and Logan have one law class that's the same time slot, and they find themselves sitting next to each other and chatting most days. It's strange, with the strife in their friend group you'd think they would avoid each other, but since Lo talks to Remus sometimes to check up on him, they sort of see Janus as a friend by proxy. 'Proxemity friends', if you know what I mean.

Lo is sort of Roman's unwilling sugar baby. Roman constantly offers to pay for every single expense she has from rent on her apartment to a candy bar. They promptly remind him, "I am an adult with my own damn job," to which he pouts exaggeratedly. Logan has occasional moments of anger and annoyance when Roman shows that he was raised rich, such as not cleaning up around his house because "the maid will get it" or buying hundreds of dollars worth of clothes in one shopping trip.

Patton has sworn one (1) time in a life-threatening situation. No I will not elaborate.

Roman is the only cis person in the group and he never hears the end of it.

Janus was alone through most of her early school life until she met Roman and Remus by chance. At first, they bonded over similar appearing skin conditions, which quickly developed into friendships. When she and Virgil met through the twins, they hit it off instantly. They genuinely got along and related on a lot, at least the things Jan would share. Her lack of sharing any details of her personal life was concerning to all three of the others. Whenever they'd ask to hang out at her house, she'd drive them to a random place instead and say there was a change of plans. Virgil definitely noticed the sleeping bag and clothes in the back of the car. He never brought it up.

Patton and Virgil are so different, it shocks most people that they're dating. But they love each other and love just watching each other engage in their hobbies. Patton will be knitting on the couch while Virgil cuddles them and just watches how good they are at their craft, admiring them. Patton goes to every show Virgil and Roman manage to book, and they cheer so loud they lose their voice! They may be different, but their love is built on watching each other create and grow. And cuddles. Plenty of cuddles.

[sunlit-writings]

Rating: T | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: Child Neglect, Major Character Death

Summary: In which a young Icarus finds that ambition can make you lose everything, or help you find what you've been missing.

---

Hey! My first fic on Tumblr... I tried my best, but the idea of writing a non-canon backstory for today's prompt was just. Too juicy I think. I'll probably put in a second chapter mostly based on Raph discovering her gender and bonding with the other mechs

You know, fun things!

The sight of the sprawling City from above was one of the first things Icarus could remember from his childhood. The penthouse the two inhabited had a view that sprawled at least a square mile of the surface. But that wasn't why he remembered it so vividly. No, what had caused it to stick to the back of his brain was what happened when his father once joined him on that balcony, when he finally had the curiosity to start asking questions.

"Papa?" Icarus breaks a silence that had been settling between the two for a few minutes. "What's down there, on the ground?"

"Well, there's people, just like there are up here," the man replies simply. It causes the boy's young mind to race into gear once it's explained. People really live down there? There must be so many. He wondered what they all did, since all of the businesses that he knew of were within the upper levels. The questions go unanswered as he continues, however. "It's business owners like your old dad that make it turn. Some day, you'll be part of that too."

"I'll be like you, Papa?" Young eyes fill with wonder, as the man reaches down and gives him a pat on the head.

"You certainly will... But you've got a long way to go until then."

"Then how do I start?" Suddenly, the topic changes, much like it tends to concerning younger children.

"Start? It's a bit early yet but... Why don't you start by writing everything down that you think of. What you want to build, achieve, create, whatever it is. And then, you'll have it for the future. How does that sound?"

"I'll do it!" His enthusiasm was quick to take the child back to his room, where he started to draw anything that came to his head. And although that initial boom didn't last forever, Icarus took his father's words to heart. He continued to create, though most things in his mind weren't in the least bit feasible. But it would be a valuable tool for his future...

---

The boy is thirteen now, and for the first time getting to see the place that his father worked in. A laboratory, with loads of scientists around the room, each one seeming entirely focused on whatever they were assembling. There wasn't so much that seemed like science going on in here, but Icarus doesn't find it in himself to care. He's here, he's finally here.

Daedalus isn't speaking, however, doesn't even seem to be paying attention to the boy, and instead seems to be looking around, as if trying to find a face among the crowd of nameless, white-coated workers.

The father had never been the most involved in Icarus' life, often being busy with one project or another. But as he aged, he was more often left on his own, as if once he could take care of himself, the man had just made a quiet exit from his life. Surely, the young man tried not to mind it so much, as he could manage alone. But it didn't mean that he was happy, with very few people his own age up this high on the social ladder, and few people who didn't have the same level of work or more to do.

More often than not, Icarus was alone.

This was going to be a change though, now that he was going to be working in that same building, surely they would be able to talk more. Surely, with how often both of them would be there, they would have a chance to actually bond and interact. However, this thought quickly turns to dust as the man finds what he seemed to be looking for, which seems to be one out of the horde of workers. He tries quite hard not to react, as it's not as though this person had anything to do with the relationship Icarus had or did not have with his father. But he can't help but tune out as he's being introduced, as there isn't much interest he has in whoever this was.

Daedalus leaves in some time, snapping Icarus back into listening, since he should at least pay attention to whatever this person has to say. However, it doesn't feel important. The most he's really listening to would be those few times that machinery was shown, and he was taught how to use it. He would remember that much, but anything else seemed like a blur, especially with how unenthusiastic they seemed.

He couldn't help but sigh with relief once they left him so he could settle in to his new desk. Icarus could quickly notice how much work was already piled onto his desk, which he could already tell had come from his father. He couldn't tell when it would all be due from the folders, so he would need to start checking them all. So, that he did...

Hopefully, things would change in a while. If he had to work on this drudgery for so long, he would likely get something out of it if he did well. Maybe he would even get the praise that he so desired.

---

The days since he's begun working then turned into weeks, that turned into months. And things had certainly changed. He began to see more of his father, but it seemed to only be due to his progress with work. Icarus so often chased these moments, however. Because he could feel the praise in his very soul. Its the one thing that keeps him going, keeps him working. Because everything else wasn't shaping up how he expected them to.

It was all assembly work and a few equipment tests here and there. Either option seemed so much like grunt work, and he couldn't stand it. There wasn't anywhere to go from there either, as every other worker he saw on a daily basis would have the same sorts of tasks to complete.

Was there really nothing else to be done?

It's a night home after work that he begins to these thoughts begin to take his mind, as he enters his room, first thinking to get some sleep. And yet, something catches his eye that hasn't in quite a long time. A small, spiral-bound notebook with some old designs in them. How long had it been since he's looked in this tired old thing?

It was one of the few things that his father had ever advised him on. Write everything down that he thought of, huh? Sure, he had left it behind, but a part of him was curious about some of the things he'd written back in the day. Maybe it's a wish to walk down memory lane, but he can't help but open it up and begin to read.

Most of what laid in its pages, he couldn't even understand. Then again, they were the musings of a young boy who knew nothing about how engineering and building worked. But some of it seemed like it was going somewhere, at least to a point where Icarus could improve upon it. How lovely it could be, for the young man to actually have something to work on again. And then, it finally hits him.

There's much more for him to do. Even if it isn't his father's machines, he could still make something. Maybe they won't be sold, maybe he won't get a stitch of credit to his name. But what did that really matter? He'd at least get to create for once in his life. It would teach him whether or not he had what it took to make something of himself, just like his father said he would one day.

He takes a seat at the little desk that hadn't been changed out in a while, and begins to work on something he thought could change the world.

---

Against his better judgement, Icarus had slipped some of his designs to his father's desk, in order for him to look them over. And a few days had passed since he'd done that. Sure, it was okay for Daedalus to take his time. He seemed to be a busy man, often moving from his office to everywhere else in the office. But the young man could only hope that the news would come soon. Had he done something right? Was he a failure who should never create something again? The waiting was worse than anything the man could possibly say.

But then, the sign comes, the office secretary coming in to say that Daedalus wanted to have a word with him. And how neutral could that be? It could only make him worry about it more.

He continues on to his father's office, not making eye contact with any person he passed in the halls. There was some fear in him that they'd know something that he didn't.

He softly knocks on the door, and soon after the word "Enter," is spoken on its other side. Icarus makes as little sound as he can in opening it, before he takes a seat. His head stays down, even as he can hear Daedalus begin to speak. It isn't good, and it doesn't feel good.

"These things you've put on my desk, are these things you've been doing instead of working?" There's something that twinges in the young man at the question. They weren't just things, they were ideas... Ideas that he thought had merit. If he hated them, he could just say so without acting like this. But he holds his tongue about his distaste. That isn't important.

"No, I've been making them at home, you know I've been working as hard as I can-"

"Right, then what could these be for?"

"They're ideas... I wanted to show you a few concepts I had come up with, maybe you would see that I can design things too."

A silence hangs between the two, as Icarus waits for something else to be said. He's already disheartened. This obviously didn't go how he'd hoped, so now all he can wish is for this conversation to end. But it doesn't, the nightmare only continues.

"Did you really think some child's scribbles is something that I need right now? You don't even have the training for this, and you're trying to make things for me? Boy, all I want you to do is what you've been instructed. You're a technician, nothing more."

He can feel the coating of tears beginning to choke him, but he stands firm. He can't cry right now, he can't give Daedalus anything else to mock him over. He just needs to wait for the verbal lashing to end.

"Now, keep yourself busy with your work, and get out of my sight." Certainly, he could follow such an order, but once he left the office, and could finally find somewhere that he could break down on his own, without another person around to comment on it.

He wished that this rejection of his work would've been easier to take. But there was something about its flippancy, about how quickly he was written of. It made the cut so much deeper. Did he even really look at any of them? Were they nothing more than doodles to the businessman? Icarus' hurt quickly turns into anger, however. He had been chasing that man for such a long time, looking for every scrap of appreciation and approval that he could dig for, and this was how he was repaid for it? Maybe it was childish to hold onto it so deeply, but the boy couldn't find it in himself to care.

And finally, he has an epiphany, while staring into the eyes that had never felt like his own. If Daedalus wouldn't so much as glance at his work, he would just have to find someone that will.

If it acted against his father? So be it.

---

With his plan in motion, Icarus had worked in the shadows for quite a while, finding other sources of backing around the upper reaches of the city. Many wouldn't look either, not due to anything against him, but instead a fear of acting against his father. With how influential he was, it was understandable, if not a bit frustrating.

But finally, there was someone. An Olympian, even, who was willing to give the upstart a chance. Poseidon, one of the few people who could possibly stand up to his father. And he was going to get a chance.

But such a thing couldn't last forever, especially since Daedalus seemed to know everything. Icarus wasn't naive enough to think that this would go without some form of punishment, the question only became when.

It was in their home, one of the few times that the man had ever been home. "You have a lot of explaining to do, boy." His eyes pierce into him like daggers, that feel almost as painful as the use of that word.

"I'm sure you know everything that you'd want me to say by now," Icarus spits through grit teeth, feeling his adrenaline rise with his volume.

"Have you lost your mind? You go against me with an Olympian? What could you possibly be trying to prove, here?"

"That I'm not some stupid kid. That if you just took the time to look at what I had made and-"

"Are you still on about that? For Zeus' sake, I don't have time for that nonsense."

"Then why are you so scared of me working for him? Are you scared that I'm going to make something of myself without you?"

It's tense, as Daedalus makes an approach, and Icarus backs up. He doesn't know what the man wants to do, but despite his approach of biting back, he can't help but begin to feel some fear of what his father might do to him.

As this continues, so does Daedalus. "After giving you a place in my company, giving you everything I have, this is how you choose to repay me? By taking it all and spitting in my face?" The son finds his boy hitting the door to the balcony, and out of fear, he opens that door, giving himself a bit more room to stagger backwards.

"How dare you imply that I'm scared of you, a mere boy. You don't even know what I'm capable of. How quickly I can make sure no one ever takes you seriously in this industry. You'll be finished, do you hear me? Finished." The room that Icarus had created was becoming lesser and lesser. His legs were now against the railing of the balcony, frozen in place. The man is in his face now, and he can finally feel the fear and panic sinking in. He has nowhere to run.

"Don't you look at me like that, you dug this grave, and now you better lie in it. You're going to pay for this, and you're going to look at me, dammit."

"Please... Th-There's not-"

"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!" He feels hands on his shoulders that make him stumble. But there's nothing for him to catch himself on. He falls backwards, and off the balcony.

The last thing he saw, the last thing he'd likely ever see, was the look of horror and realization forming on his father's face.

[queervegancryptid]

My dad and I are trying to talk every week on Sunday evenings. Last night's conversation was a lot.

I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep, so I'm watching 90s Sailor Moon. I stumbled into the last episode of Sailor Moon R, the Black Moon Clan arc, live on Pluto TV, so I decided to start Sailor Moon S. It's where I really fell in love with the series, when I found a few issues of the manga at the local Sam Goody. Now I'm really dating myself lol

But I still don't fully understand, after all these years, why they did such a shit job of recutting and dubbing it for Toonami and such. I mean, I do understand how and why it happened, but I feel like it shortchanged an entire audience in a big way, especially when the dubbed version of S came out.

It was a real "disappointed but not surprised" moment, but it was also a moment where I knew something was bullshit and couldn't tell others why.

That drags us back to last night's conversation. Let's just say, it's abundantly clear to me now that my dad and I have wildly different understandings of my childhood and overall development into an adult. He also said some crazy shit about aliens and mind control and Matrix-type simulation possibilities. None of that is implausible, but it was the way it came out that made it nonsensical.

Anyway, I kinda wish they would recut and redub it, but Sailor Moon Crystal, Eternal, and Cosmos are really more faithful to the original manga in general, so I guess that's a good compromise. Like not asking my dad if he's on meth and just ignoring it when his explanation for something in the news is mind control and hyper-advanced aliens and just letting it go, saying, "Well, tell you what. If you're right about this being part of an October surprise and Harris losing because of it, I owe you a coke."

Jesus fuck balls Christ. I am going to lose my entire mind. At least my partner helped take my mind off it before we went to bed ;) but this is another of those things that hangs over me because I know I'll have to deal with it eventually.

It got to the point where I was just exhausted. The crazy part of the conversation meandered somehow into us talking about my childhood, by which I mean, we went to abstract and bizarre crazy to personal crazy, and I found out he definitely has no idea about... a lot.

It got to that point when I realized what I was up against there and understood that I would not be able to help him understand, that night or possibly ever, what he clearly doesn't understand. But on the bright side, he knows that he probably doesn't understand, and he wants to, and that's a lot better than a lot of people can expect from a parent. I'm grateful for him in a lot of ways. I'm also frustrated with people in general, and I'm even more frustrated after that conversation.

So maybe I'll start a Sailor Moon blog as a secondary one to this. Gotta do something to take my mind off this bullshit so I can force myself to eat. Because another thing that's happening lately is that extreme hunger gives me panic attacks. Multiple times a day. I have to avoid it by making sure I eat, which is its own challenge, but if anytime I get anxious or my blood pressure spikes lately, my chest hurts, which is concerning.

Anyway, I'm on meds for that, and they're helping to manage the symptoms. Meantime, I don't know what to do aside from distracting myself and stumbling my way through this. So I guess that's what I'm gonna do.

It just sucks to feel like you don't have any good options. It sucks almost as much to find out your dad thinks you were born really smart but lost about 50 IQ points by the end of high school. I didn't get less intelligent; I learned to doubt myself more and more over time. And not being able to explain that to him in a way he could understand was just more than I could take.

All my life, people have blamed me for shit that resulted from what they or other people have done to me. They blame me for what they don't understand or see it as an immutable characteristic rather than what it is: the result of one or more fuck-ups in my psyche that never fully healed.

Anyway, I can't solve that today, or maybe ever. For right now, I'm putting it out of my mind as best I can and looking for distractions.