#ENDLESS OCEAN ON MY TIMELINE????

[stylespresleyhearted]

THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, ���and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

[konigbabe]

PERISH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader Word count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: no y/n; manga spoilers (post Shibuya timeline); canon-compliant; angst; death; emotional breakdown; hurt/no comfort; loss; grief Summary: For the first time in a long time, Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks. Happy start of JJKS2 writing week.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

November 2018 8 minutes until Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it on time. I’m right behind the corner."

"We can wait," Yuji’s voice carries through the car, the static of the Bluetooth speaker occasionally cracking.

It feels like years have passed since you last saw him. Sealed away in the prison realm, Gojo’s state remains a mystery. There’s no telling how being locked in a place where time and space don’t exist can affect even the strongest minds.

That’s what worries you. What if he’ll break? What if he goes crazy on all of you? What if he explodes; wipes you all out with his technique? An endless sea of ‘what if’ swirls inside your mind as you take another turn, the mountains on your left with an ocean view on your right.

"Don’t," you reassure the youngster, "don’t wait any longer."

"You should be here, though," Megumi jumps into the conversation, "You’re closest to that idiot. He’ll want to see you."

His words draw a smile on your lips. It’s finally happening. The sleepless nights are coming to an end with the arrival of your lover.

"Then I’ll just opt for a dramatic entrance while you keep him busy," you respond before tightening your hands on the wheel. A familiar feeling washes over you; sudden knowledge of a new presence. Heart picking up, your eyes search the road for the source while the car’s speed slowly drops.

32 seconds; that’s how long it takes you to locate the source. A curse spirit manifestation stands in the middle of the road, blocking you. Its small hunched build stands a mere meter above the ground; four arms decorated by translucent fins hanging by its body, the prehnite skin glistening in the last rays of today’s sun, giving off a wet, moist appearance.

"Boys," you announce, stopping Yuji’s and Megumi’s bickering while still keeping up the cheerful, light voice in an attempt to not raise suspicions about your current predicament, "don’t wait any longer. Unseal Satoru and stop worrying ‘bout me. It’ll be fine."

Bringing the car to a slow halt, Yuji’s tone shifts into a more attentive one as your name seeps through the speaker before you hang up after one more reassurance.

As you step out of the vehicle, the curse's malevolence engulfs the air, almost tangible in its intensity. It clings to the atmosphere like a poisonous fog, penetrating your senses with a pungent sulfuric odor that threatens to overwhelm you.

Your hand slips inside your jacket to retrieve a carefully preserved seal, reserved for such precarious situations; just like this one.

"I’m sorry," with every footfall, the curse seems to shrink in size, yet its malicious nature grows stronger, the smell of sulfur almost suffocating, "but I’m in a hurry right now and you," pointing the parchment paper towards the spirit, "are in my way."

Swift and precise, your movements carry an aura of practiced precision. With little effort, you firmly press the seal upon the spirit's head, causing it to stumble momentarily before dissipating into thin air, vanquished by the power contained within the sigil.

Yet, the energy lingers.

Stronger than before. Stronger than a second ago. Its absent defense, non-existent attempt to fight or flee…it all makes sense now —

A powerful grip; a strong hand adorned with talons as keen as the finest blades dig into your shoulder as an inhuman force pushes you to the side.

As you're thrust aside, your vision catches a subtle glimmer of chrysolite, a hue that seeps into your perception; its scales are sturdy, each edge honed to a dangerous sharpness. Driven by instinct and the will to protect yourself, you reach out, your hand making contact with the curse spirit’s scaly hide.

The jagged edges of its scales cut into the delicate flesh of your fingers, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.

— it was a decoy.

Your body collides with the unforgiving side of the mountain, back meeting the rough and unyielding surface. A symphony of pain resonates within your bones, their structural integrity compromised as multiple cracks reverberate through your form.

Gasping for breath, your body instinctively seeks solace, but find none amidst the terrain. The curse doesn’t wait either. Swiftly moving forward, it lunges at you. Unforgiving. With a clear intent to strike. To kill.

During Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

There is no pain. The moment the curse’s hand breaches the barrier of your chest, you expect it. Expect some kind of visceral reaction. But there’s none — a gentle pinch, akin to a fleeting touch when the sharp claws first pierce through the protective layers of your breastplate. A slight discomfort upon the feeling of having a foreign object that’s found its place within the confines of your ribs. The barrier of your rib cage offers minimal resistance, yielding to the relentless advance that seeks to reach the very core of your being. The heart.

It all feels confusing.

"Kenjaku sends his regards," it whispers, the words slurred by the razor-sharp fangs that protrude from its mouth.

October 31, 2018 — 8:09 PM

"What’s the worst that can happen?"

Satoru saunters around the corner of the table, his presence punctuated by the audible slurping of juice from a small cartoon container. All while your palms rest on top of the said furniture, fingernails tapping at the surface.

The news has spread fast through the jujutsu community, faster than wildfire. Whispers of an unknown curtain cast around Shibuya an hour ago, trapping all non-sorcerers, innocent civilians, inside its insidious grasp with only one demand: Bring Satoru Gojo.

"Don’t say it like that, Satoru," you turn to face the man whose casual and dismissive demeanor only adds fuel to the worries setting inside your bones.

"They’re a bunch of curses," his hand finds its place on your hip bone while placing the empty container away, "Some special grades, yeah, but they’re weak compared to me. I’ll deal with them, save some people in the meantime, and bam," he snaps his fingers loudly, "We can go home. Get that sunset date you’ve been babbling about. Life is good," he finishes with a kiss on the crown of your head.

Life is good.

You watch the sun dip below the horizon behind the curse spirit’s back, indulging the sinister being in a halo glow.

Yeah. In the end, life was good.

2 hours and 48 minutes after Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

For a moment, he stands still. Unable to look down; frozen in time. The weight of it all seems to bear down upon his shoulders – now that Sukuna’s taken over Megumi’s body, Nanami’s and Yaga’s death, Suguru’s body being used as a vessel, the slow crumbling fall of the Jujutsu world – and now you; being gone.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the current time. Yet even his immense power proves futile as the people he loves keep dying on him…because of him.

A burden that threatens to crush him beneath its insurmountable gravity.

The air around him hangs heavy with sorrow, as if the very essence of grief has manifested itself in the atmosphere. A storm of emotions swirls within him; a combination of disbelief, anguish and a gnawing ache that gnashes at the core of his being.

He clenches his fists, fingers trembling with a mixture of sorrow and determination. In that agonizing moment, he finds the strength to finally lower his gaze, to confront the devastating truth that lies at his feet.

Everyone holds their breaths, the weight of his misery echoing in the silence as his eyes meet the lifeless visage of the one he holds dearest.

Of you.

Hand reaching out, his fingers graze the once-soft flesh of your hand; now cold and stiff. It serves as a confirmation of reality. There’s no getting you back, no way Shoko can nurture you back to health with her technique.

You’re gone.

And in that harrowing instant, the façade crumbles. The walls he built to contain his pain come crashing down, and Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks.

Crumbling down on his knees, the vulnerability that spills forth from his broken form is raw and unrestrained. Only a handful of those closest to him stand behind to witness the symphony of torment that pierces the silence. Tears stream down his face, each drop carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words, moments you two could’ve spent together.

One hand covering his mouth to silence the guttural sounds, the other reaches out to you, tenderly cradling your lifeless head upon his lap. He clings to the fragile hope that if he could provide just enough warmth and love, you might return to him.

Yuji looks around the room, at the people who silently observe their friend fall apart. Taking a step towards the hunched man, a soft grasp stops him mid step; Kiyotaka shakes his head, pushing his glasses back in place as Shoko looks down. For the first time, she’s unable to figure out her classmate, her childhood friend, the man whose side she’s always stayed by.

"Gojo," Yuji doesn’t allow Kiyotaka to stop him. Believing in what’s right, he stands behind his teacher’s back.

Hand laying on the tense muscle of his shoulder, he doesn’t attempt to comfort Satoru with any words — no words in this universe would bring you back anyway. Instead, his hand just rests there. Unmoving. Gentle.

"Who did it," his words cause Shoko to look back up as Satoru, stone-faced and stoic, speaks in a firm, devoid voice. Imagines of unspeakable horror flashes in his mind as he stands up, towering over the wide-eyed Yuji.

"Tell me now," his eyes search Kiyotaka’s, voice filled with undeniable authority, "I’ll kill them, kill them all."

[omniversalawareness]

Awareness, Omniverse, and Reality Shifting Oh My!

What is Awareness?

Awareness is the foundation of everything. It is what allows us to experience, perceive, and exist. Without awareness, there would be nothing: no thoughts, no sensations, no reality. Imagine awareness as the infinite space in which everything arises. It is not just personal consciousness, but the essence that makes all things possible. Everything we experience: thoughts, emotions, and even the physical world arises within awareness. Just as a dream is created and experienced within the mind of the dreamer, reality is shaped and experienced within awareness. Before anything exists to you, you must first be aware of it. This means everything emerges from awareness itself, making it the source of all existence. Many perceive God as a separate, all-powerful being, but to me personally, what we call 'God' is awareness itself, the infinite source of all realities. Since we are awareness, we are not separate from this source; we are one with it. The idea that we are individual beings is merely an illusion created by our focus on a particular reality. In my personal belief, we are all the same awareness experiencing different perspectives, like waves in an ocean. Since awareness is infinite and contains everything, there is no true separation. This includes every reality, every possibility. The entire Omniverse is an expression of awareness, meaning we are not just existing within it, we are the Omniverse. Since awareness is the source of all things, we are not limited by anything. Just like in a lucid dream, where realization grants complete control, reality is also fluid and shaped by our awareness.

What is the Omniverse?

The Omniverse is the totality of all that exists, every universe, dimension, reality, timeline, and possibility. It holds everything known and unknown, physical and non-physical, seen and unseen. Nothing can exist outside of it because it is all-encompassing. The Omniverse includes:

All physical universes (multiverses, parallel realities, alternate timelines)

Non-physical dimensions (astral realms, spiritual planes, energetic fields)

Dreamscapes, thought realms, and conceptual realities

The Void: the infinite potential of awareness before form

The Omniverse is not external or separate, it is the infinite expression of awareness itself. Since awareness is the foundation of everything, and the Omniverse contains everything, the Omniverse is a manifestation of awareness in motion. Since we are awareness, we are not separate from the Omniverse, we are the Omniverse. Reality shifting is simply awareness shifting its focus within this infinite field. There is no distance to cross, no effort required, just a shift of awareness to a new experience.

What is Reality Shifting?

Reality shifting is the most natural and inherent expression of awareness between different experiences, realities, and states of existence. It is not something we do, it is what we are. Everything is a reality shift: manifesting, lucid dreaming, astral projection, entering the Void, blinking, breathing, etc. Since awareness is infinite and contains all possibilities, every reality already exists within it. Shifting is simply becoming aware of a different version of reality that is already present within the Omniverse. Since awareness is the foundation of reality, everything we experience exists because we are aware of it. Shifting is not about forcing reality to change, it is about recognizing that reality is already fluid, shaped by our awareness. Just as we effortlessly shift between thoughts and emotions, we effortlessly shift between realities. Since the Omniverse is infinite, there are endless versions of reality to shift to, and since we are awareness, we have complete control over what we choose to experience. In order to shift, all we need to do is know that as awareness, we already exist in our desired reality, just like how we effortlessly know our own name. We do not question or doubt our name because it is simply a fact in our awareness. In the same way, if we know that we already exist in our DR, there is no need to ‘get there’ we are simply aware of it and thus experience it. This is what it means to become aware of our DR in regards to shifting. Shifting is not about convincing ourselves or proving anything. It is about recognizing that because we are awareness itself, we are already everywhere, in every possibility of the Omniverse, including our DR. The moment we truly know this, shifting is instant and effortless.

The Infinite Connection Between Awareness, the Omniverse, and Reality Shifting

Everything: existence, experience, and reality itself begins and ends with awareness. It is the foundation of all that is. Since awareness is infinite, it holds within it the totality of all possibilities, all realms, and all realities, this infinite totality is the Omniverse.

Awareness: The Source of Everything

Awareness is the foundation of existence, without awareness, there is nothing. The Omniverse is the infinite expression of awareness, not separate from it, but contained within it. Reality shifting is the natural expression of awareness, the way it moves between different experiences.

The Omniverse: The Infinite Playground of Awareness

The Omniverse contains every reality, dimension, and possibility. Since awareness is infinite, the Omniverse is also infinite, holding every reality we could ever imagine or experience. Every version of reality already exists within the Omniverse, there is no such thing as creating a new reality, only becoming aware of it. The Omniverse is fluid, realities are not fixed, but shifting expressions of awareness. We are not separate from the Omniverse, we are the Omniverse, because we are awareness, and awareness is the foundation of the Omniverse.

Reality Shifting: The Expression of Awareness Within the Omniverse

Since the Omniverse holds every reality, and awareness is the foundation of the Omniverse, reality shifting is simply the process of awareness becoming aware between different experiences. Reality shifting is not an ability, it is our most inherent nature. As awareness, we are constantly shifting, whether consciously or not. Shifting is effortless because we already exist in all realities, the moment we become aware of a reality, we experience it. There is no separation between us and our DR, just like there is no separation between awareness and the Omniverse.

In Conclusion

Awareness is the Omniverse, and the Omniverse is infinite possibilities. Reality shifting is simply the most natural and inherent expression of awareness within itself. Since we are awareness, we are the Omniverse, and we are reality shifting itself. Shifting is not something we do, it is what we are. It is as effortless and inevitable as breathing because as awareness, we are constantly shifting, flowing, and experiencing different versions of reality.

[vesearlee]

Like a siren's song, the ocean's rhythmic dance beckoned treasures to its shores — from endless delicate seashells painted in nature's finest hues, lustrous pearls birthed from ancient depths, and the whispered secrets of souls carried on salt-kissed winds. 

Within the sanctuary of Rafayel’s arms, where time always ebbed and flowed like the tides themselves, resistance was futile against the tranquil spell that bound you both. The sea, ever watchful and eternal in her majesty, held not only the whispers of your heart but cradled his deepest mysteries in her embrace.

⠈⠂⠄⠄  𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 🐚 Tattoo Artist!Rafayel x F!Reader

⠈⠂⠄⠄  𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 🐚 This entire collection and the works included are inspired by @obligatedart's Tattoo Artist!Rafayel and I could not be more thankful for the opportunity to have been able to work with you! I can't wait to do it again in the future! 🐚 A very, very special thank you to @smutconnoisseur for helping me come up with synopses and being my cheerleader all through this ― I couldn't have done it without you.

⠈⠂⠄⠄  𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 🐚 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

⠈⠂⠄⠄  𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑾𝑵 🐚 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

All entries are in timeline order — this is subject to change as I add any inclusive works for this collection.

──── 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ 𝐀 + 𝐅

Like the flow of ink across skin, his artistry carried stories to the surface: delicate linework, shaded secrets, painted dreams. Not only did artwork hold the stories he created, but his own decorated arms told tales of their own, and you would be hard pressed to keep anything a secret among the soothing hum of his tattoo machine and voice while you lay in the sanctuary of his workspace, drawn taut by the tension of his proximity that you craved more of. 

But with the fierce tide of secrets, also came burning revelations. 

[windvexer]

I'm still looking for good astral projection techniques and readings. Doing it at night doesn't seem to work because I end up falling asleep and lucid dreaming. I can't even tell if I'm in the astral or in my imagination when I try it because all I see is darkness, yet I can kind of describe certain locations I often frequent in my mind. I've discerned two of them as inner temple spaces but some I'm not even sure if it's astral or just making up scenarios in my head. I think two of them are actual locations where I've met dragons but I'm having trouble with visions since all I see is darkness even though I can give a physical description, if that makes sense?

The rope technique doesn't work and counting backwards doesn't work. Unless I need more practice? Lucid dreaming I have down easy at least. Any recommended techniques or readings?

Howdy;

It's hard to say if you need more practice. Personally, some people pick it up very quickly, and others take a lot longer at it. Generally I find that most people I talk to about it are traveling, they just aren't sure if they are or not because they tend to have unrealistic expectations.

One of those expectations is vividness; obtaining a very high level of vivid immersion is IMO difficult, must more difficult than obtaining valid travel experiences in general.

Obtaining vivid immersion also isn't linear; I used to have very vivid experiences, but now I don't. I also have spent I suppose thousands of hours traveling, but after spiritual growth I lost the ability to travel at all for a while (a few years I think, but I haven't put thought into the timeline). After many years of practice and traveling, I still sometimes have "blackout" sessions where I can recount experiences, but I see nothing.

So although you haven't said as much, it's not something that you just unlock and then you get the skill forever; it's a living skill, like all magic (in my opinion).

Anyway, it's totally possible to need plenty of practice, but also possible to pick it up quickly. The question is how do you know when you've done it correctly, and IMO the best solution is to just try and do whatever it is you want to do in the astral and see if it works.

I mean, astral travel can be purely entertainment, in which case you never need to verify anything because it's like playing a video game; the experience is what matters. But if your goal is to do something, like say meet and commune with dragon spirits, then go ahead doing that and carry on as if you really have met them, and see what happens.

What's the end goal? To learn special names of dragons, and gain one as a familiar or a teacher? To learn how to do new kinds of magic? Set out to do those things and see where it gets you; see if you learn new kinds of magic you can do in dreams, or in the waking world. See if you learn how to call these spirits in and out of trance states.

See if what you do in these practice sessions is making your life better, or bringing you closer to goals - or not.

The benefit to this approach is that it can bring structure to practice; practice is no longer open-ended, but becomes, "how do I find this certain spirit?" and then "...next I'll explore his home" and "now I'm going to learn to make astral offerings to leave at the shrine," and so on. So it's less tedious, in my opinion.

Yes, try more techniques; have fun experimenting with a lot of them. Give them all an honest go. I recommend trying any particular technique a solid twenty times or so, just to gain the experience of it. Even attempts which do not appear to result in travel will bring experience and development.

I favor any technique which involves going downwards, especially through the trunk of a tree, or down through a well. As a relaxing method before sleep, I sometimes like to swim down through an endless ocean and look for a trap door, or a glowing crevice or something; then I go down through that. Or sometimes I don't.

If we can say that there's a pre-astral state, like existing in the space with the rope before you climb the rope, then that space in and of itself can be lovely and fun to play with, and you don't have to try to 'astral' at all.

Maybe you want to climb down through the trunk of a tree via a hollow; you can practice immersion skills by wandering around an imaginary forest, without actually trying to bridge the gap into the astral. And it's alright if it's just your imagination, because of course it is.

Another technique you may find to be very effective is to begin in a memory, especially a memory that positions you near to a convenient loci of travel (such as a favored childhood tree), and at first recall the memory with clarity, but then begin moving differently in it and seek out the astral doorway.

Also in general practicing trance is helpful.

Also, practicing calming and relaxation techniques before trying to travel.

Alright, I think that's enough novel. Also, I'm not sure what you mean by astral readings, but I hope the above is helpful.

[dharmas-spam]

In wake of recent events and allegations against Neil Gaiman, I would like to release a statement that I know no one asked for. Because I have not been doing very well as of late, and this was the cherry on the shit sundae.

I hope you all understand that, in doing so, I do not mean to take away any attention from the victims. I just have to get this off my chest and clear the air I feel is polluted at the moment.

Here's my long-winded timeline of my interaction with Gaiman's work. Underneath will be my statement on these allegations and what I will be doing moving forward.

I first got into Neil Gaiman's work in June-July of 2021, around my birthday, although I had seen some of his work unknowingly over the years.

I will never forget the first time I watched Good Omens, and I will never forget the joy it made me feel from the first few frames. I finished the show soon after. The message of the beauty in individuality and the inherent neutrality of humanity made me feel hopeful for the first time in a while.

I read the book in October 2021 and was officially hooked. I started engaging in the fandom and found a place online where I felt wholly accepted. I made fanart, read/wrote fanworks, etc.

I then expanded my Gaiman-Verse knowledge in April 2022 and began reading American Gods, Anansi Boys, Trigger Warning, etc...and found great inspiration and solace in these works as well.

On August 5th, 2022, I watched Sandman the morning it released on Netflix, beyond excited, and then bought one of the large books with the first few comics complied inside after finishing the show.

My love for The Sandman universe only grew, and I gained new outlooks on life inside the character's words and actions. Death of The Endless and Hob Gadling were two characters that helped me better understand how to truly appreciate the world around me and the time I am blessed to have in it.

I received the full collection of The Sandman comics for Christmas 2022 and nearly cried with elation. I read through them like a beast and was given more of the extended works in the series (like Death's solo comic) later that same holiday. I was also given The Ocean At The End Of The Lane, and finished it in two days flat. I loved Mrs. Hempstock and her words on humanity.

As time passed, my passion for Gaiman's literature/media didn't waver.

I started dating my partner on June 1st, 2023, and Gaiman's work was part of what helped us bond, in addition to our already-lovely chemistry.

The EVERY kiss spoiler leaked and sobbed with excitement, lol.

Good Omens S2 was set to be released a few days after my birthday. However, I was very sick on my birthday and was rather miserable.

My parents went out of their way to make me Good Omens cupcakes in secret, and it was one of my best birthdays, purely because my father put in the effort to design them, despite my never letting him watch the show (which has since been amended).

That Christmas, I was given quite a bit of Good Omens and Sandman merchandise and started growing my collection of copies of Good Omens.

On April 25th, 2024, I watched Dead Boy Detectives the day it released, having been excited for it since November 2023, and found another media in the Gaiman-Verse that I adored and saw myself in.

Flash forward to tonight, July 4th, 2024, and I am devastated.

I spent the majority of my teen years consuming Gaiman's content and engaging in the fandoms. During the time, I found true happiness and felt comfortable in my identity, and I refuse to lie and say my self-discovery was not aided by the media he created.

I know this is not about me, but about the victims, and I know the allegations have been brought to light by many shady news sources, but I must finish my piece with this:

When J.K Rowling exposed herself as a TERF, I had not realized I was queer yet, but I was still deeply disturbed for reasons unknown to me. I separated the art from the artist, as I had loved Harry Potter since I was seven, and it was a way my mother and I bonded during hard times. It also helped me get through the height of quarantine and the horrors of puberty.

When I discovered Gaiman's work and the fandoms his work's inspired, I felt relieved: here was a white cishet person who cared for minorities and who created media for minorities.

If the allegations are true (which they likely are), it turns out my hero doesn't deserve his cape.

I will do as I did with J.K Rowling, with a much heavier heart. The fans deserve the joy and inclusion Gaiman's work has created, even if he himself is vile. I will continue to consume his work indirectly and in no support to him.

I encourage everyone in the fandom to stay calm during this time.

It is okay to be angry, sad, and confused. However, it is not okay to ignore the allegations altogether or the trauma these women have experienced at the hands of Gaiman.

This fandom is a safe space for many people, and I beg that it will remain that way.

I send out much love to the women who were hurt, and I hope you both find contentment.

[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 11

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 5.5k Tags/Warnings: mentions of masturbation; mentions of injury; we're slowly getting somewhere; very slowly; tipsy Rex; angst; this chapter is set right after ARC Troopers and before The Zillo Beast; the timeline is now my bitch; Kix is disappointed; am I sorry about the ending? not one bit, I love angst;

Previous chapter | Next chapter

vod - brother vode - brothers mesh'la - beautiful di'kut - idiot jetii - jedi

~~~

The battle of Kamino had finally ended and Lexie was outside on a balcony, leaning against the railing and staring at the endless ocean that surrounded Tipoca City. She was tired and the fresh burn left by Ventress’ lightsaber on her left arm was starting to really hurt. She should go find Kix and have it looked at but for some reason she felt like she couldn’t move.

The fight had been harrowing. While Obi-Wan was looking for Grievous and Anakin was occupied with Ventress, Lexie had stayed in the main hangar, trying to keep the main droid forces at bay. So many troopers had been killed around her and she could not shake that cold feeling of death. Frustration was rising inside of her, she had been able to tune it out lately, to focus on the missions, but during this battle it had almost frozen her in place on multiple instances. Sometimes she really hated her Force-sensitivity.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, just staring at the water, at the way it moved and crashed into the stilts supporting the domed structures of the city. It always calmed her down, the fluid movements, the sounds it made. Thunder rumbled in the distance, it appeared like a storm was approaching. She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the waves for a while, before sensing a friendly presence behind her.

“Hi, Echo”, she said without turning to look, as she heard the door slide open and footsteps approaching.

 “Damn Jetii”, Echo said with a chuckle as he came and leaned against the railing next to her.

“Rude”, she said with a small laugh, softly hitting his arm with the back of her hand.

Echo turned his head to look at her and noticed the burn, his smile fading from his lips. “That looks bad. Kix is not gonna be happy if he finds you just sitting around with that kind of injury”.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was on my way to the medbay, but I just wanted to look at the water for a little bit”, she said.

“Are you alright?”, he asked her, picking up on her gloomy mood.

Lexie considered the question. Was she alright? She’d had so much on her mind these past couple of weeks, so many conflicting emotions. Ever since Saleucami, al’Prani’s voice had forcefully returned to her mind, berating her for allowing herself to fall in love, and with the Captain of her battalion nonetheless. The dreams she’d been having about him, the fantasies she conjured when touching herself, it was beyond inappropriate. She felt like a disgrace to the Jedi Order.

And the battle today? She couldn’t even understand what they were really protecting. All the men that had died around her… and for what? For the Kaminoans to keep producing more of them, more sentient beings that would just go on to die as well, with no choice in the matter, no other possibilities, not actual future? But yet it wasn’t that simple and she knew it. What was the alternative, let the Separatists win?

“Lex?”, Echo brought her attention back to him. He looked at her with a concerned expression.

“A lot of men died today”, she managed to say.

She felt the energy shift around his Force signature as he took her words in. “Yeah… we lost some good soldiers”, he said quietly.

Lexie clenched her jaw at the word “soldiers”, indignation and sadness bubbling inside her mind, but did not say anything. They were soldiers after all, and they were proud of it. No point in starting an argument. She could barely make sense of her thoughts as it was, she doubted she could explain them without sounding like she was criticizing their entire existence.

“Where’s your twin?”, she decided to change the subject.

Echo let out a sound between a laugh and a snort. “Still don’t understand why you call us that”

“I don’t know, you just give me twins vibes. It’s the connection you two have. And you all call each other vode, you and Fives are just extra vode, so you know… twins?”, she tried to explain. Her brows furrowed as she reached the end of her sentence, it didn’t even make sense to her.

“Extra vode?”, Echo repeated with a laugh.

“I don’t know what I’m kriffin’ saying anymore. Don’t mind me I’m just tired”, she laughed. “So where is Fives?”

“We split up looking for you actually”.

“Everything okay?”, she asked, suddenly a little nervous.

“More than okay. We have some great news we wanted to share. But he made me promise to let him be the one to tell you. I did comm him when I saw you, he should be along soon”.

“Alright”, she chuckled, curious about this news of theirs. She absentmindedly leaned into him a little, forgetting about her injury, and winced at the contact with the plastoid of his armor.

“I could comm and tell him to meet us in the infirmary. You should really get that looked at”, he pointed at her burnt arm.

“I know, but I’d like to avoid the ‘you should’ve come straight to the medbay’ speech from Kix as long as possible”, she joked.

“That speech is gonna turn into a straight up scolding the longer you wait”, he warned with a chuckle.

Lexie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine, let’s go”.

“What was it like, growing up here?”, she asked as they walked down the pristine white corridors of Tipoca City.

“It was alright, I guess. Although we didn’t really do anything besides training and studying”. He paused for a few seconds, a rueful smile appearing on his lips. “I was… actually glad when we finally left”.

“Yeah?”, she prodded a little.

“Yeah… it was nice to have a change of scenery, to be on rock solid ground”, he chuckled. “To be honest, I kind of liked the barren landscape of the Rishi Moon. Probably was the only one who thought that”.

“Must’ve been pretty weird, spending the first what, 10 years of your life just staring at the ocean?”, she said.

“Well it didn’t seem weird then. We didn’t know anything else. But I do like the fact that we move around from world to world now. It’s nice to see all those different places”, he admitted.

“Oh, I bet Garronn was your favourite”, she teased.

“Yeah, especially the serpent”, he scoffed.

“So which is your favourite planet we’ve been on? Battles aside and everything”, Lexie asked after a silent moment.

Echo let out a hum as he considered her question. “I liked Erosh-4. The mountains were really beautiful. And the air really stuck out to me, it was so crisp”.

Her stomach turned a little at the mention of Erosh-4, but she tried to quickly move past it. “You’d really like Seccaya then. The entire planet is covered by mountains and the air is so clean and fresh everywhere, even in the Capital”.

“Seccaya, that’s your homeworld isn’t it?”, he asked.

“Yes”, she said a bit too curtly.

Echo took the hint and didn’t press any longer. They were almost at the door that lead to the medbay anyway.

Lexie briefly stopped a few steps from it. “What are the chances Kix isn’t in there and I could get some random medic I don’t know to patch me up?”, she asked jokingly.

“Very slim”, Echo chuckled. “You know he barely leaves the medbay for like a full rotation after a battle like this”.

She pressed the control panel outside the door and stepped into the large medbay, feeling her stomach twist at the sight that awaited her. The beds were full of troopers with various injuries while clone medics and med droids were running around between them. She always hated going into the medbay after a battle, seeing the aftermath, sensing the pain the men were in. She shivered trying her hardest to tune out the emotions she was picking up though the Force.

Lexie quickly scanned the room, eyes landing on Kix. He was near an examination table at the back of the medbay, giving instructions to a droid. He looked towards the door and as he saw her, an irritated expression appeared across his face. He knew she didn’t come into the medbay unless she was either injured or checking in on one of them, and thankfully, this time, no one from their little group was hurt during the battle. The irritation seemed to only grow as she got closer and his eyes landed on her injured arm.

“The battle ended three hours ago, Lexie, why the hell did you wait so long to come see me?”, he said, not even attempting to mask the anger in his tone.

Three hours? She had not realised she’d been on that balcony for so long.

“I lost track of time?”, she said with an innocent voice.

“You or'dinii”, he mumbled under his breath as he turned and motioned for her to follow him to an examination table.

“What did he call me?”, she asked Echo.

“A complete lunatic”, he answered with amusement.

“Fair”, she said as she followed the medic.

“There you two are”, Fives exclaimed as he walked into the medbay, quickly heading towards where Lexie was sat.

Kix had finished cleaning the wound, and had also finished his speech about her carelessness, and was now placing a bacta patch over it, while Echo was stood next to the examination table.

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?”, Fives asked Echo.

“No, I did say I’d let you”, Echo said.

“Lex we have some really great news. You’re sitting down, good”, Fives said turning to face her, making her roll her eyes and chuckle at his theatrics. “Echo and I have been promoted to ARC troopers”.

“Wait, really?”, Kix asked.

“Yes. Rex and Commander Cody told us after the battle finished”, Echo answered proudly.

“That is amazing, boys!”, Lexie said with a bright smile. “You deserve it”.

She quickly got up and hugged them. She really was happy for them, they were skilled soldiers and she was glad they were getting the recognition they deserved. She also knew how much Fives had wanted it, having mentioned his goal to her on more than one occasion.

Kix congratulated both men before leaving to deal with another injured trooper. The three of them walked out of the medbay, heading for the mess hall.

“We need to celebrate at the 79s the moment we land on Coruscant”, Lexie exclaimed.

“Absolutely!”, Fives agreed.

“After our training maybe”, Echo interjected.

“What do you mean?”, Lexie asked with a slight frown.

“We’re staying on Kamino for the ARC training. It’s gonna be six standard weeks before we rejoin you and the 501st”, he explained.

“Oh”. Lexie felt a bit stupid, she should’ve thought of that, of course they had to receive specialised training, it wasn’t just a change of rank.

“You gonna miss me mesh’la?”, Fives asked, swinging an arm across her shoulders.

“I’m gonna miss both of you”, she said after rolling her eyes at Fives. However, she didn’t push his arm away.

She really should put a stop to this. Fives was a lot bolder now, after that night at the 79s and the encouragement he’d received from her while they were dancing together. He started calling her mesh’la again, but never when Rex was within earshot, and he’d become friendlier in his touches, swinging his arm around her like he’d just done or sliding closer and pressing his leg into hers when they were sat at the table in the mess or on the couches in the clones’ break room.

It wasn’t appropriate but Lexie did enjoy it, as it had been too long since she’d had a hook-up, so it was nice to feel wanted. She wasn’t gonna let it go too far though, it was just a little fun, right?

Once in the mess hall, Lexie’s eyes quickly scanned the large room, looking for Rex. Disappointment filled her mind as she found him sat at a table between Cody and Jesse. She liked sitting next to him, it was something she looked forward to every time she had her meals with the men. But sitting opposite him wasn’t the worst she supposed, she could actually look at him properly that way, admire his kind eyes and handsome face.

Fives quickly removed his arm from around her shoulders and walked towards the table, sitting down opposite the Captain. Echo and Lexie joined him after getting some food for the three of them. Rex met her eyes immediately, giving her a kind smile, before his gaze lowered to the bacta patch on her arm.

“Are you alright?”, he asked with a concerned voice.

“Yeah, it’s just a scratch”, she waved his concerns off.

Hardcase soon joined them, dragging Kix after him, and the group fell into pleasant conversation that was carried late into the evening.

The cruiser did feel empty without Echo and Fives, Lexie had to admit it. She also had to admit how attached she had become to the clones, something that worried her, especially since she had started to really question the Code she was supposed to be following. Everything she’d been feeling lately only confused her.

The Jedi forbade attachments since they could lead to the Dark Side, but she couldn’t see it like that anymore. She had spent years trying her hardest to please her master, supressing her emotions, and detaching herself from the emotional connections she had to her family, only to be called a disappointment and be abandoned by him right at the start of a war. So why should she keep following his teachings?

Her friendships with the troopers gave her strength, and they had helped her push past insecurities, they had made her a good general. Her attachment to them could not be a bad thing. But none of the clones she called friends had died yet, what would happen if one of them did? Would that push her down a dark path? No. She could protect them; she will protect them.

And then there was Rex. Her attachment to him was stronger than anything she’d ever experienced before. She loved him, there was little doubt of that now, and that was a problem. Her desire for him was beginning to distract her. She could barely focus during briefings that he attended, her gaze always finding its way to him, trailing up and down his body, picturing the way he would make her his in her dreams. And if he met her eyes, Maker, she felt like she could just melt. But then shame would engulf her mind and it would feel so strong she could barely hear anything going on around her.

Rex was her friend, but that was all he was. He had not given her any indication that he cared about her in any other way than as a friend. And even if he did, they couldn’t be together. He was a clone trooper, he had a duty to the Republic. No, he was technically propriety of the Republic, they weren’t allowed to be romantically involved with anyone.

Her head was hurting as it jumped around all these conflicting thoughts, so she was glad to finally be back on Coruscant, even if it was for only one rotation. The battalion had been rerouted to a siege to the Mid Rim planet of Dore’e as soon as they departed from Kamino, a siege that was predicted to last two standard weeks, which then turned into almost five.

They wouldn’t even be back on Coruscant if they didn’t desperately need to resupply the cruiser, as the 501st was needed on Malastare. But their short supply run was definitely welcome. The men were pent up and could not wait to go to the 79s to blow off some steam.

 Lexie could also not wait to go to a bar somewhere, possibly find someone to hook-up with, take her mind off of everything for a while. It had been so long since she had sex, maybe what she was feeling for Rex wasn’t actually love and just a result of that, and she could dissipate the tension with a random one-night stand. Was certainly worth a try, she’d do anything to get him out of her mind.

“General Khalla”, Admiral Yularen’s voice stopped her before she could board the shuttle that would take her from the Resolute down to the surface.

“Yes, Admiral?”, she answered, really hoping this wasn’t about what she thought it was about.

“I was looking for your last four mission reports and I seem to be unable to locate them. Have they been filed properly?”, he asked sternly.

For kriff’s sake, I was so close. “Umm… I definitely filed them. Maybe there’s been a technical issue? I’ll have to check when I get to the base”, she lied.

The look he gave her let her know he did not believe her. He knew she had not even written them.

“Hopefully you can remedy any technical issue that has caused their displacement. I would like to see those reports tomorrow”, he told her with a pointed look.

“Of course, Admiral”. There goes my night out.

As she boarded the shuttle she locked eyes with Anakin, who had watched her conversation with the Admiral with a smirk on his face. Rex was right next to him, but still had his helmet on so Lexie wasn’t sure if he was watching her or not. She’d been avoiding him these past couple of days, worried she’d been too clingy during the siege, spending most of her time by his side.

“Zip it, Skywalker”, she told her friend with a chuckle.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything”, he said and Lexie have him a look. “But it does remind me awfully much of all the times you tried to skip on your Jedi texts studies. Do you remember that lecture you received from Madame Jocasta when she finally caught you?”, he continued with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me”, she said with a laugh of her own. From the corner of her eye she caught the slight tilt of the Captain’s helmet. He was listening after all. “So what are your plans for your night off?”, she asked her fellow Jedi.

“I should probably check on Ahsoka’s progress”, he answered.

With all the battles that had come one right after the other, Lexie realised neither she nor Anakin had seen Ahsoka since departing for Saleucami, almost two standard months ago.

“Tell her I said hi. Don’t think I’m making it to the Temple tonight, with all the kriffin’ reports I have to write”, she said rolling her eyes.

Of course she was unable to start the reports as soon as she got to the base like she wanted, she had no actual motivation to do so after all. Instead, she procrastinated by hanging out with Kix, Jesse and Hardcase until they left for the 79s. Truthfully, she had been so close to saying ‘kriff it’ and joining them when they asked, especially when Kix mentioned that Rex was gonna meet them there, but she knew better than to get on the Admiral’s bad side… again.

With no more excuses left, she headed to her office and spent the next three harrowingly tedious hours on the first two reports she had to write. Maker, she hated bureaucracy.

Her chair was becoming too uncomfortable and she was bored to death. Lexie picked up the datapad and decided to finish the reports somewhere else. It was late, most of the men should be at the 79s or already in bed and she did like the couches in their common break room. If anyone was in there she could socialise, but at this hour she expected it to be empty.

And it was, with the exception of one Captain.

As she got close to the room she looked through the Force, checking if the room was unoccupied, and she felt his presence. She couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on her face. Lexie found Rex sat comfortably on one of the couches at the back of the room. He was laid back in his seat, legs spread a little, holding a bottle of ale in his left hand, and not wearing the upper part of his armor. She also noted that he was not wearing his gloves either. His head turned as he heard her footsteps approach.

“Hey you”, he said with a smile, cocking his head to a side. He seemed very relaxed and his eyes appeared a little unfocused. There was also a faint blush visible on the beautiful tan skin of his cheeks. The way he greeted her really surprised her. Is he drunk?

“Hi”, she replied with amusement. “I thought you went to the 79s”.

“I came back early. Wasn’t feeling it tonight”, he shrugged.

Lexie glanced at the programme he was watching on the holoscreen and had to stifle a laugh. The camera was following a pack of Alderaanian deer, while the voice-over was describing their eating habits. “Is that a nature documentary?”.

Rex picked up on the her slightly teasing tone and suddenly felt very self-conscious. “Uhh, yeah… I like watching them from time to time. Helps me relax”.

“That is actually so adorable”, Lexie said as she sat on the couch next to him. For some reason she found it extremely endearing. He, however, wasn’t so pleased; being “adorable” wasn’t exactly how he wanted her to think about him.

She angled her body so that she was facing him, her right leg tucked under her, knee rested on his thigh. She saw his grip tighten on the bottle. “Any more of those?”, she asked, pointing to the drink in his hand.

“Yes, of course”, he leaned forward, picking up a bottle from next to the couch and handing it to her. “Not sure where I put the opener…”, he mumbled as he looked around.

“Don’t need it, honey”, Lexie replied, using the Force to pop open the cap, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clink.

Rex let out an awkward laugh. He still loved it when she called him “honey”.

She leaned slightly, noticing the empty bottle of ale placed on the floor next to the couch. So the one he’s holding is his second, plus whatever he’s had at 79s.

“Are you… drunk, Captain?”, she asked with a sly grin, putting a little bit more emphasis on his rank.

“No… Well… I maybe had a bit more to drink than usual. But I’m not drunk”, he replied with a chuckle.

“So, just slightly drunk?”, she teased.

Rex tried to give her an annoyed look, but the smile did not leave his face.

“That’s definitely something you don’t see every day. I like it, you seem more relaxed”, Lexie continued, taking a sip from her ale and smirking at him. He shook his head in amusement.

It really was something unusual for Rex, he was generally more controlled when it came to alcohol, only having two, maybe three drinks during an outing. He preferred to keep a level head at all times.

But on this occasion there was some… pent up frustration he wanted to get rid of. And the cause of that frustration happened to be sat on the couch next to him.

Ever since the night he had slept in her bed, Rex had found it increasingly difficult to keep Lexie out of his thoughts. She appeared in his dreams and he would think about her constantly, even when it wasn’t appropriate to do so, like at night when he was alone in his room and his hand found itself stroking his hard member.

There was also the moment they shared in the barn on Saleucami, it had filled his mind with hope that maybe his feelings for her weren’t unrequited. Hope that had been momentarily crushed when he saw how close she was with Fives after the Battle of Kamino and how tightly she had hugged him when it was time for the 501st to depart, only to be reignited during the weeks of the siege on Dore’e.

Lexie had been by Rex’s side at all times, including during the night. She had slept on his shoulder on a few occasions actually, claiming it was more comfortable than sleeping on the ground. But then she had acted so indifferent towards him in the past two days and seemed to be avoiding him during their journey back to Coruscant. Safe to say Rex was confused by her behaviour and he was annoyed with himself for reading so much in what was probably just friendly gestures.

And so, tonight he had wanted to forget about everything, and had even planned on leaving the 79s with the cute Mikkian woman that had flirted with him from the moment he stepped into the club. But then the song that he and Lexie had slow danced to came on and he was no longer in the mood for a meaningless hook-up, so he left alone and returned to the base.

“Have you finished those reports?”, Rex changed the subject, meeting her eyes.

“Ugh no”, she groaned, swiping a hand over her face. “I have two left. Do you mind if I finish them here?”.

“I don’t mind, I can even help you if you want”, he replied, cringing internally at how eager he sounded.

“No, it’s fine. Keep watching your documentary. It’s your night off after all, Rex. No need for both of us to suffer”, she said with a chuckle while picking up her datapad from where she had placed it on the couch behind her.

Lexie started her third report, shifting in her seat after a while. Rex had laid his arm across the backrest of the couch and she decided to lean into his side. He was glad that her attention was focused on the datapad, because without it she might have heard how his breath caught in his throat. Maker, having her so close to him was driving him crazy. He was barely paying attention to the documentary anymore, being too entranced by her presence at his side and by the cute little noises of annoyance she would let out from time to time as she tried to go over the events of the mission and transcribe them in a proper military tone.

When she finally finished the third report, Lexie let out a deep breath and threw the datapad next to her on the couch. She felt so tired and decided to lay down, resting her head in Rex’s lap. She felt his body language stiffen for a moment and worried she’d crossed a line. Was this too intimate? Too forward of her?

“Are you comfortable? Do you want me to remove the thigh gauntlets?”, he asked her, looking down at her face.

“Nah, it’s fine. Just need to rest a little before I start the last report”, she replied, slightly blushing.

He finished his ale and leaned forward over her in order to place the empty bottle on the floor. Lexie held her breath as his abdomen was millimetres from her face, feeling the heat of his core on her cheek. She suddenly became aware of how fast her heart was beating. As he laid back against the couch she looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Neither of them said anything, neither of them moved, they just looked into each other’s eyes.

Rex’s left hand slowly lifted from the backrest after a while, reaching for her face. His fingers softly traced down from her temple and over her cheek. The touch of his calloused fingers felt so gentle, and so electric at the same time. Lexie slightly tilted her head into his touch and closed her eyes. His fingers continued slowly moving along her jaw, reaching her chin and then softly tracing over her lips.

She lifted her head from his lap and got up, turning her body so that she was closer to him, her knees now under her. Rex took his hand away as she moved, fear engulfing his mind for a moment, before seeing that she was not pulling away, she was just trying to get closer.

His heartbeat was erratic as he shifted his body, leaning closer to her and lifting his hand back in order to cup her face. Her eyes were not leaving his, and being so close now he noticed the faint green at the edge of the brown irises. He thought she was stunning, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Mesh’la, can I kis-”.

Muffled laughter from outside the door interrupted his question. Anxiety soared inside both of them and Lexie jumped away from him, landing at the other end of the couch just as the door slid open, revealing Kix and Hardcase. Kix briefly caught her movement and his brows furrowed, noticing the blush on Rex’s face, paired with the anxiety in his eyes, and the similar panicked expression Lexie had on her face. His brother darted past him, unaware of the fact that they have definitely interrupted something.

“Rex, Lexie, you missed quite a night!”, Hardcase loudly exclaimed, slurring his words a little. He plopped himself on the couch between the Jedi and the Captain before continuing. “Jesse dared Vaughn to dance on the bar and the di’kut fell face first on the floor”, he managed to say between laughter.

“Yeah, what a shame I missed that”, Rex said with a forced chuckle. “Where is Jesse?”.

“He swooped in on that Mikkian woman after you left her high and dry, and they left together. Don’t think we’ll be seeing him until the morning”, Kix replied, coming to lean on the armrest of the couch next to Lexie.

“Don’t get why you just up and left, vod, looked like you were about to seal the deal”, Hardcase interjected, jabbing Rex in the ribs with his elbow.

Lexie’s eyes quickly snapped to Rex. The thought of him with another woman, even just briefly flirting, made her stomach turn.

“Just wasn’t feeling it”, Rex mumbled, hand nursing the side of his chest that Hardcase hit a little too hard.

Lexie quickly got up from the couch and grabbed her datapad.

“I still have one report to write, gonna finish it in my room. Goodnight boys”, she spewed out a bit too rapidly and hurried out the room before Rex had a chance to say anything. Her mind was racing, she desperately needed to get back to her quarters and be alone.

Rex got up from his seat as she left, and was now stood awkwardly staring at the door the General had basically run away through. Fear and shame were filling his mind. What the hell was he thinking? He had probably made her so uncomfortable and ruined their friendship. This is exactly why he didn’t like to drink. He had lost control, he had inappropriately touched her… he had called her mesh’la. Rex felt so angry with himself.

“You good, vod?”, Kix asked, looking at him with concern.

“Yeah. Fine.”, he replied dryly. “I’m gonna hit the sack. I suggest you two do the same”.

He left the room before his brothers could ask any more questions.

Back in the confinement of her room, Lexie paced around the small space, trying to make sense of what just happened. What almost happened. Did she understand him correctly? Did he want to kiss her? There is no way she misinterpreted that but had he actually meant it or was he just drunk? Was he just trying to find a replacement after striking out with that woman at the 79s and she just happened to be conveniently there?

No, that didn’t seem like Rex, she shouldn’t think that. It must have been the alcohol, there’s no way he would actually be interested in her. She knew him, he was a proud soldier, he respected the chain of command and military regulations, he wouldn’t allow himself to get attached to a superior officer. It was probably just the alcohol.

Her mind wondered back to what Hardcase had said. Why would he just leave the cantina? He didn’t strike her as the type of man who used a woman for some flirtatious banter to then turn and just leave her hanging once he got bored. But then again, she’d never seen him engage with other women and the more she thought about it the more nauseous she felt.

The image of him flirting with someone else made her heart sink, but she had to accept that of course it happened, he was an attractive man, he must have women throwing themselves at him constantly.

She had to stop thinking about it. It didn’t matter, at the end of the day. She didn't think he liked her, not in the same way she did anyway. She had to get a grip on herself, she was too attached to him. Lexie forced herself to focus on finishing her report then tried her hardest to get some sleep. But Rex would not leave her thoughts.  

[lanternbats]

first, i gotta apologise if this makes literally no sense timeline wise. most of the comics i’ve read are like from the 60s, so my knowledge of anything after 1968 is murky at best. also, this is sorta going off on the last ask but not really—

i’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head about Bruce and Hal sorta dating from early days. maybe it was before Hal became GL, maybe not. doesn’t matter much for this. but the main idea is this:

the whole Parallax thing sorta lines up with Jason’s death. so Bruce is so angry at himself not only for losing Jason, but because he was so blinded by his grief and anger that he failed to recognise Hal literally getting possessed by a space monster.

another idea i had that has no proper story to be worked into is Tim walking up to Hal after Bruce gets lost in time or is presumed dead or whatever and going “you’re gonna help me find Bruce right now.” and Hal just goes “…fair.”

again, i have no clue if either of these would even work. but it sounds good on paper for endless angst so. thought i’d share :)

If you wanna get crazy self indulgent, Jason’s death could be one of the events that leads to Hal's weakening mental state that allowed for Parallax to posses him 👀 Like Hal returns from space only to find out that his and Bruce's son has been dead for months and the corps didn't think this was worth interrupting the mission he was on, which is just another drop in the "man the guardians suck" ocean. He missed the funeral and Bruce isn't talking to him and the break up is messy and horrible for everyone involved and Hal notices that beginning of grey hair on his temples and he's only in his 30's but goddammit it's been a stressful year this totally isn't a sign of anything else ahaha ;)

So Hal wouldn't be around when Tim enters the family, but Tim is very much aware of who Hal is and what he means to Bruce, and Bruce getting lost in time would probably be a great time for them to bond and meet.

[sw33tsnow]

Enchanted by the aching wounds

- (I) / (III)

Mercenary!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Harpy!F!Reader

Summary: In a world filled with chaos, mankind and mythical creatures refuse to maintain a harmonious interaction. But it seemed not all would comply the exact same.

Warning: NOT FOR MINORS, size gap, mentions of violence, mentions of death, blood, vocabs, timeline ("once upon a time") Wordcount: 2k7

NOTE(s):

I've been working on The UK history for my field and came up with this blog's idea. I'll try my best to bring the vibe (might appear some grammar errs)

Inspired by: Maleficent (Angelina Jolie's role) and the incredible mini-serie Songs that sound like sea-foam - @halcyone-of-the-sea

THE SECOND PART || THE THIRD PART

Mother Nature - Nak created everything. She shaped mountains with scarce ores for the Dragons to guard, blew the wind and guided the Elves and Centaurus to bring seeds to the arid steppes. Whenever a precious life passed away, Nak would shed Her tears of sorrow and they would flow into vast oceans, becoming a great home for Sirens and Mermaids. Oases and islands, the same as floating land on the water surface, surrounded by sand and deep inside where the trees were so dense, there are jungles guarded by the Harpies. That's your kind, being called by an intimate name - the Aborigines, given by Nak and friends from other species. The reason was because jungles were the combination of nearly all the quintessence that Mother Nature has ever formed. Harpies' deep knowledge of flora and fauna impressed the meadow fairies to come back to learn, your kind's mastery in predicting the taste and temperature of liquid attracted the water fairies, and the respectful manners toward the mountains always pleased the Dragons.

Then the Sky came. He called Mother Nature his muse, allured Her and succeeded in making Her give birth to a short-lived, disgusting species called human. They're stupid, always curious and impatient. Nak wanted you - her beautiful children to treat them like family, just like the Sky treated Her. Yet unexpectedly, the Sky abandoned Her along with these brainless mortals for his new interest - the Moon. When He was still by Nak’s side, their passionate love resulted in endless harvest and warm sunlight illuminated the entire land but when He left, Mother Nature was drowned in inconsolable grief and forgot Her duty, causing what we called The ice age today. Those weak mankind rebelled because they couldn't stand the harshness which nature has given them. They sharpened their own weapons and started to hunt food, they exploited the mountains to take away the essence, and then started dividing territories and killing their own kind to assert their power.

Mother Nature's fury has risen, Her tantrum was beyond imagination. The mountains roared and spewed boiling melted rocks that burned fields dared to cross their path, the calm coastline was replaced by angrily tsunamis, the vast pastures turned to lifeless soil, and the forests became somber and dreadful. Mother Nature was unable to dissuade. She was your mother, their mother, but the mortals didn't know better. Instead of reconciled and coordinated, foolish humans with vague knowledge began to imitate your kind. They formed classes as you have your clans, their patriarch preferred to be called king, and your warriors were called guards in their language. They robbed your ores and molded the gold into cramped shapes entitled crowns, wearing them on their heads as if to represent their power. With endless greed, the mortals yearned for exotic garments and accessories so they did not hesitate to slaughter your brothers and sisters only for feathers and claws as the materials.

Faith vanished when the whines from families who lost their members and the desperate prayers couldn't reach Nak, She has banished you all, Her own blood. The survivors from all remaining species have gathered in the far-off island, separated and protected from the ugly world which mankind has conquered.

Afraid of being hanged for failing to track the left traces of you fairies, the vassals forged stories to delude their majesty. Spreading rumors about your kinds’ extinction and turning you fairies into mythical creatures that they chose to tell their later generations as bedtime tales. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Reckless and brutal

The stories that you heard from the elders as a child told you all. Mankind is truly bloodthirsty. Time flies like an arrow, the war raged non-stop, the deafening explosions of the weapons they called 'guns' and the mournful screams of all things did not subside for decades. The mortals did not give up easily as they silently seeked for you creatures with the excuse that you fairies would take revenge. They massacred villages, shed no mercy on newborn infants to harmless old ones, women were captured to satisfy their animalistic desires and men who defied orders were killed unhesitatingly. However, not only you fairies had to shed blood, humanity also refused to spare their own people. 

Foolish

Well, you aren’t on the same page. Humans are indeed ugly and cruel, but they have superior intelligence, which was clearly unfair. They learned from their previous mistakes in order to correct and improve themselves. Without special-given abilities, mortals built their own boats to help them travel on the sea, put up their own huts called houses to live in and start a family, they also learned how to herd animals and grow crops. 

That's also why you're here, chained below the sodden hold of an enormous royal cruise.

Your naked body was covered in wounds and coagulated blood stains from the whip, your hair disheveled and your legs were shaking from the loss of strength from being knelt for too long. The surrounding dark space limited your vision, there were some collision sounds that came from some valuable objects, the whimpers of animals and the jingling sound of the chains on your neck and your wrists as they bump into each other. On the main deck, the nobles were eating, drinking and dancing to the melodious music of the violin, guests all wearing masks as requested in the invitation. This ship's indeed well-known as a venue for clandestine auctions. Alcohol, jewelry, paintings, drugs or any other illegal items would be converged here for the wealthy to throw their money around. Attendees were way more crowded than usual thanks to the rumors about a special creature on display waiting to be owned here - you, to be more specific.

During the final purge on the island where you fairies were hiding, your parents sacrificed themselves to protect you from impending death. All by yourself, you had to hunt for your starvation, had to learn how to fly and use the gift you were given - mankind called it magic, without receiving any guidance. You came to realize that you were the last Harpy, the last child of Mother Nature - Nak while eavesdropping on a conversation between pirates. Couldn’t hide forever, you disguise yourself as a human-being and blend in the human society. Years of working like a dog, you have earned enough money, which the mortals used to trade for goods, and opened a pub of your own. You have learned their language to communicate and lived in peace for such a long period until a group of strangers ambushed and brought you to this cruise. Even though the time serving for pirates and monarchs' forces has whetted your battling skills, you’re outnumbered and were forced to surrender. 

They brutally tortured you, stimulating your wild's instinct to rise and revealing your true self before their eyes. They treated you like an animal, feeding you filthy stuff that even the most foolish creature wouldn't put in their mouth just to keep you from dying. If you dared to resist or went on hunger-strike, they would avoid damaging the valuables of your body and force you to submit by slicing your flesh. Devastated, you no longer have the strength to find a way to escape but accept your fate, being locked up and sold like an actual commodity.

In the hidden corners of the ballroom, four men with sturdy built frames were quietly observing every movement with hawk eyes. All four of them were dressed in late Victorian formal attire, after all it’s considered a formal event with plenty of royalties appearing. Standard plain white shirts with detachable white collars tucked inside the waistcoats, ascot or ties by choice. Their trousers and frock coats were not the same shade, perhaps to avoid unwanted attention. From head to toe, the costumes were meticulously tailored based on each individuals’ measurements because the job they undertook required quite a lot of manual work.

Beneath the giant painting hanging between the two paths leading to the balcony, a brunet with a black mask was staring at the end of the hall. That’s where the door leading down to the lower deck was, where his team had to reach as claimed by the instruction. The term of the contract was short and simple - his team’s party wanted the most valuable 'thing' in this auction.

Normally bland businesses like these would never be accepted, but they’d be fools if refused such huge sum. What’s more?  Free of charge handmade pieces of clothing and the chance to sneak those expensive liquor wouldn’t be unpleasant after all. 

The gentleman had begun to move. He lightly tapped on the bench where two charming men were sipping wine as if commanding, they immediately finished the booze before standing up and followed him. The brunet gave an oblivious glance as if observing the surroundings, a tall figure appeared out of nowhere and joined them as all four men quietly disappeared behind the door, not being seen by anyone.

Carefully removing the masks and cumbersome collars, the men gently pulled out the small arms attached to shoulder holsters hidden beneath their long coats. Checking the magazine again, a masculine face and neatly trimmed beard, seemed to be the Captain, motioned the other three to stick with him as they entered the hallway.

"What exactly are we looking for, sir?" The pretty boy with dark skin whispered in curiosity.

"We shall find out soon, son" The Captain replied 

Their eyes never left the dark path ahead. Gently approaching the hold, there were two guards positioned by the stairs armed with rifles absentmindedly chatting with each other. With his index and middle fingers pointing forward, in the back, the tallest man moved like a ghost behind the guards as he pulled out a knife grabbed around his thigh to stab one’s neck before raising the gun to shoot right between the other’s eyebrows. The cheers along with music and the guests' lack of alertness successfully masked the loud gunshots just well. They gathered up and began to hide dead bodies into the nearest wine barrels. Bounty hunters and petty thieves would leave evidence and traces behind but these men were professionals, could possibly tell by their swift movements.

All sorts of illegal services are offered in the black market in order to complete dirty jobs which customers didn't want to get involved with. And The One-Four-One, one of the most well-known mercenary teams, utilized by both the government and merchants, they're qualified plus always ensured to complete deals in their agreement. As long as they’re paid properly. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Your dizziness was gone by the loud noise coming from outside, gunfire, you confirmed. Pulling yourself together, you dragged your sore body deeper into the darkness of the hold as your pointed ears perked up due to the sound of expensive leather heels on the wooden steps. Adjusted your breath and narrowed your eyes, you peaked up to the direction where the noise came from while purposely clacking the chain to entice those humans. As soon as two bulky men carefully approached and stood in front of you, using one leg to knock one of them down, you snatched the gun from his hand and aimed straight at his forehead. Your right knee firmly pressed on his chest and your left foot pinned his wrist down, not allowing him to sit up.

"Steamin' bloody...."

"Shut yer trap or ‘ll crush ye barnacles" You gritted your teeth and forced the gun harder against his head. Your gift could not be used if your mind were unclear, so there’s no other way but to improvise under this circumstance.

Opposite of the silky feathers image, the primaries of your wing were like sharp blades pointing at the adam's apple of the man behind you as goosebumps exploded on your entire body. The man was quiet, so quiet that you almost couldn’t realize his present when you attacked the human below you. He calmly pierced down at you, only his beautiful chocolate brown eyes and messy blonde hair were visible because the man wore a tubular cloth around his neck. His high nose bridge and lips were hardly seen beneath the stretchy material as it pulled up to cover more than half of his face. 

"Savvy?" You asked with an unemotional face and voice.

"Easy, ma lady.....easy" The dark-skinned boy knelt on the floor, one hand raised in the air to show that he had no intention of harming you, the other hand gently placing the gun on the wooden steps.

You didn't let down your guard, only turned your eyes to the boy, his wine-red cutaway spread out on the wet floor so delicately.

The blond didn't step back, he put his gun back in the holster and slowly took off his coat. You followed his every move as you retracted your wing, bringing it to block the front of your body while crawling down from the man lying on the floor. The faint scent of gunpowder and burnt orange peel tickled your nose as the blond man draped his large coat over your smaller shoulders, his calloused hands grazing your shoulders, leaving an indescribable itchiness on your skin. After helping the shorter man on the ground to his feet, they all backed away so as not to tower over you.

"Ye're one of them, eh, ma lady?" Your pupils shone brightly in the darkness as you focused on analyzing the older man in front of you.

"....Are ye mercenaries?" Sounded more like a statement.

"Aye ma'am" The man you have just pinned down to the floor was now brushing his suits while answering you with a grin on his face.

"Apologize for my previous acts" You glanced, "Am I yer negotiation?"

Your voice hoarse and your lips chapped due to dehydration, but still managed to deliver your words clearly. You retracted your wings and horns back inside. Couldn't stop peeking at mountain of a man leaning against the pillar, your claws which have been replaced by mankind’s fingers dug into the thick garment he handed you. 

"No" the blond grunted, "The requirement was the thing, they'll get the thing."

Word for word. You silently thanked him when he finally opened his mouth and spoke, his voice low and seductive, better than you expected. The gentleman was always silent but his expressionless eyes never left you. His decisive words and gentle gestures made you drunk, years of going through your heat by yourself, controlling desires has never been this difficult to you. 

"Simon" Simon, you mumbled, your lips thinned to a line as if just his name was enough for you to smile like an idiot.

"Blimey, Cap, ye saw how she held me down"

You understand why the Captain hesitated. Mercenaries’ jobs were neither easy nor safe, would’ve to pay with your life if you’re negligent. But the ridiculous hair man got his point, not only your other self could never be a burden, you alone were completely qualified for their team.

"Miss, ye ever been on battlefields?" The Captain sighed before asked you

"If the Tudors And Stuarts count" You answered bluntly, "Also an old salt on Sir Francis Drake and Anne Bonny's ships". Tilting your head, you slightly smiled as their eyes widened.

An impressed whistle was blown, the boy with the red cutaway walked over and patted the Captain's shoulder, whose face looked down and shook his head in defeat. The blond gentleman walked over to where you sat to unchain you as the oldest man cocked his head like a command, careful not to hurt you.

"Thank you" You said with sincerity, rubbing the scratched and bruised skin on your throat and wrists.

"Can ye stand, ma lady?" You nodded in response, "I still can walk, they spared my legs out", but seemed to receive disagreement from the rest.

" ‘ll carry ye" The blond spoke softly, "Allow me" 

Lifting you up effortlessly, he placed you on his bulky arm and the other held the gun. Nodding to the other three, you all quietly disappeared from the dark hold. 

[insanelyadd]

I’ve a feeling that Collector’s resentment of their siblings due to their imprisonment for hundreds of thousands, possibly millions of years would not probably never go away. We’d like to think that amount of time wouldn’t be anything to a being as old as the universe, a mere drop in the ocean, but… it could very well be the opposite.

Quoting Dream of the Endless, from Neil Gaiman’s “The Sandman”:

“Can you have any idea what it was like? Can you have any idea? Confined in a glass box for three score years and ten. A human lifetime. Time moves no faster for my kind than it does for humanity, and in prison it crawled at a snail's pace.”

And Dream was only trapped for a few decades.

On another topic, I can see Collector seeing Luz as a much healthier big sister figure (he probably already sees King as a big brother). Reached out to them despite everything they did, and even sacrificed herself to protect them. Odds are, at least one of their siblings are going to become very spiteful of that, especially since Collector might potentially disown them for leaving them behind. Might even try to find the first excuse to end her…

“Oh, this mortal was given the Titan’s power! Abd there’s tiny residual energy from it in her body! We’d best kill her, or she’ll become half-Titan again and try to kill us! Whoopsy, them’s the breaks! Sorry, Collie!”

Oh, I don't think they were imprisoned for that long. I have some evidence to support this, so I hope you don't mind me rambling about my timeline a bit in this answer.

I think the Collector was imprisoned for 2-5 thousand years and no more than that. Bat queen very obviously was the Titan's palisman and very much was the one who built King’s island and she said it's only been thousands of years, not tens of or hundreds of thousands. King was also incubating this entire time. Also, Bill. Bill claims to have been alive to see Papa Titan die, which means he must be as old as they have been dead plus a decade or so. Since he never personally slayed any Titans, I hc he was a child during this time, and I also HC that he managed to be long lived because. Well, it's quite morbid and horrifying, but hunters do normally eat the meat of the creatures they kill. And that's how I think he could have lived for thousands of years.

Also yeah he absolutely should feel resentful towards them, since they completely fucked up everything. Personally, I feel a bit merciful about his time imprisoned, and I usually imagine that until a tablet is activated, they are completely in stasis, a dreamless sleep. If the activated tablet is destroyed and no other tablet is active, then they go back into stasis. I HC it this way because the tablet feels like a Titan made Collection spell, and Collection spells keep the Collected in stasis. Still, there was a significant amount of non-stasis time with just Belos, which is perhaps 5x longer than what Dream went through in Sandman, with my current favored estimate being 350.

You're so right, I'm sure the Collector feels like King and Luz are like siblings to him. But he might also want to not associate them that way because of past experiences.

I think, though, that the Collector is prone to being easy to forgive, and if the circumstances are right, he might forgive his siblings. Depending on your characterization of the four of them, one to all might qualify for life shattering betrayal forgiveness (infomercial voice). Like with my own interpretation of the Archivists, Satellite and Solari were both young teens when everything happened, they had no say in what happened, they argued against what the elder two chose, and they would give up everything to keep their brother safe. Especially since their plan for if their brother returns is to take him and run away from Crescent and Penumbra. I think the Collector might forgive them.

I mean, he forgave belos who lied to and manipulated him for hundreds of years, who attempted to kill him basically, who did it all again just a few hours before he tried forgiving him. It's a reoccurring character flaw, but I think if any of the Archivists would turn against the others for the Collector and/or didn't participate in what happened to the Titans, then there might be a bit worth forgiving? Since at least then, he'd have people to live with who can raise him without worry they would die before he physically ages even a single year (that's a lot of pain for a small child).

They're far too young to be living on their own. It's not good for childhood development to be without a caretaker.

But if your version of the Archivists aren't worth forgiving then. Well. Obviously, he's justified for being as resentful as he wants to be and never forgiving them. This is still the case even if some turn out to not be completely vile bastards, but the Collector’s endless forgiveness and trust just doesn't show up at all wrt to his terrible siblings. Because they still were horrible to them.

My interpretation is just one where there may be room to forgive two of the four, mostly for practical reasons like the protagonists of the series being far better off fighting only two adult Collectors especially if they have the help of another two (though they might, justifiably, not be warmly welcomed to stay or drop by whenever they want). And also, genuinely by complete coincidence, their backstories and actions all sort of put them in a gradient of culpability for their terrible atrocities, and the twins just both happen to be on the low end, with Satellite being the absolute least evil.

[little-starshark-with-wings]

Evangeline Alaida Astrophel of Ithica, Nixie and Alaida and Aether

Hi? I know im littles but ims part of bigger person? i thinks age regress? but I knows I 8 and names Evangelines? but hi?

i thinks i does oddessy, pjo rp? ion know… but i does?

Pronouns: She/Her/They/Them/It/Its

Nicknames: Eva, Veve, Starlight, Starshine, Little Dragon, Hatchling, Linlin, and Little star, Starry (all also said in other languages)

Species: Star Dragon

Age: 8 (4 in dragon)

Eva notes:

bleeds stardust.

the only star dragon that has feathered wings.

The only star dragon that has black hair others have white or silver hair. Her black hair does have speckles and streaks of silver, reminds me of a meteor shower tbh.

they look younger than they really are.

they look like a toddler despite being 8.

never grew up around or knew gods besides Nyx.

Does not know basic human things.

Now that her horns are broken and wings clipped she constantly bleeds stardust.

Stardust tastes like hopes and dreams.

sharp ass teeth.

dragons age is just half of their human age so she is 4 for dragons

the stars in her tail jingles like bells

Powers: not shown yet

Weapons: Who would give weapons to a child??

Parents: Unknown, Penelope of Ithica (Adoptive), Odysseus of Ithica (Adoptive)

Family: The royals of Ithica and whoever Penelope and Odysseus adopts.

Likes: The night sky, Whale Sharks her adoptive parents, her brother, the beach, NOT DROWNING, shinies, things that make a satisfying noise, plushies, crows, sea shells, giving people things, and flying

Dislikes: Why she doesn't remember, drowning, large bodies of water, her clipped wings, the fact she cant fly anymore, the feel of cut feathers, sirens, falling, heights, people that try to take her new family from them, and shoes (they cramp my feet...)

Why is she here?: Well, in my DID, shes practically a different timeline of me, a reflection of what happened if i didn't leave the sky quick enough, a reflection of betrayal and backstabbing that happened in my life. so to cope with trauma ahaha i need to see my therapist again- imma make it more of a story buckle up.

She was a star in the sky, one of the brightest as the star shined with her laughter and joy. Other stars, dim and bitter, resented the bright star. The more leather winged star dragons grew envious of the feathered hatchling, so when it was newly night, they clipped her wings. Without anything to hold her to the sky, to keep her afloat in the endless space, she fell to the ground, the poorly clipped wings doing nothing to aid her fast descent to the roaring seas below. She crashed into a wave, her horns cracking and breaking because of the pressure. The pain and force of the crash rendered them unconscious. The blood supply in the horn seeped as the now cracked horns provided an opening for rushing shells to cut the delicate skin of the blood supply. The silvery shimmering stardust spread through the water, attracting sirens. (we know they're birds in myth but the epic musical says evil fish ladies so i say evil fish ladies gods damnit also in the universe where she came from theres two types of sirens the birds and the fish ladies-) The stardust, the taste, the shimmering liquid new and exciting to sirens who only tasted the blood of mortals before. In an excited haste they cracked off the rest of the horns, scurrying away with their new snack in tow. The dragon sank further int the sea, her broken horns leaving a trail of stardust in her wake. The stardust, however, caught the attention of an ocean nymph, who took pity on the poor being. The nymph transformed into a whale shark, swimming under her and moving up, placing her on their back as they went to the surface. The whale shark surfaced, little Evangeline on their back as they swam to the nearest island, Ithica. The slow sail and salty wind woke the girl, but she had no energy to move. They laid on the back of the whale shark, clutching her head and wings, and just cried. The nymph placed the girl on the sands of Ithica, swimming away as the girl slowly walked to the civilization, curious of what it was. The streets of houses and markets confused the dragon who had only seen the vacant night expanse save for her fellow dragons, making her run in fear of the humans and noises. In her confusion and fear she ran to a lake with shiny rocks that caught her attention. Something, well someone, caught its attention too. Prince Telemachus. Instead of cowering in fear she picked up a shiny rock, and went up to the man that caught her attention. Well the rest is history I say. How she got adopted was also unconventional but hey, its Penelope. We don’t question Mrs. Penelope.

Eva facts: She loves whale sharks because of Nixie. Does not know who Poseidon is but hates him because Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus hates him. Learns curses because a certain merc with a mouth is jumping universes. She collects anything that is shaped like stars. has night vision. will follow shinies and get lost while following said shiny. she ate bees before. scared of bees now. hates shoes bc her feet feel cramped. forced to wear them. she is represented by Wind chimes, Kalimba, And a steel tongue drum. since her fall a nymph spirit helps her out

[pleiades-cabin-talk]

Hello...?

Right ah, hello there!

I've been a little restless as of late and remembered that a good old friend of mine used to use this site? So I figured I'd give this a try.

Okay, I guess introductions are in order?

My name is Rose, I use They/He pronouns. I've gone by all sorts of names by now, but Rose is the one that just kind of...stuck.

Anyway. I'm 24 and I work on and off on the ships of the cruiseline Pleiades. Have for years now. I rotate between them, but my main post tends to be up on the Andromeda, the largest amongst her sisterships.

They all have different routes, though most of them stay out on the sea for multible days at a time between stops and honestly it's the most peace you can find. Out in the open, with nothing but sky and sea in sight. Endless expanses of nothingness with no idea of what lurks below or above at all times. Something about that has always been reassuring to me.

I liked the ocean first, I think. Felt like it was calling to me. When I was younger I'd go on vacation often with my parents, we'd end up near some beach or another most times. I never wanted to leave. Stayed in the arms of the sea as long as I could. The stars and with it space, came later in my teens. Both stuck till now, and here we are. Couldn't have asked for a better place to work than this, to be honest.

Gosh, I am rambling again...ah.

Well, I suppose this blog is meant to serve as a sort of...not diary, but log of some of the happenings on the ships, I suppose?

There's always plenty to do here, plenty happening, incessant as the call, that tug in my chest may be.

Join me out here for a chat?

______

OCC: Hola! This is an rp blog!! Rose is an Avatar of the Vast and heavily marked by the Lonely. Slight Eye touch, but mainly because of them remembering a Timeline that doesn't exist anymore. They are calm most of the time, though can get rather excitable and even flirty at times.

He is afab, curvy and a bit chubby with dirty blonde, wavy hair down to about the middle of their back and has moss green eyes, if that info is needed? 5'8.

Rose's own Timeline kind of...hit the fan a few years back. the new one seems to be the same, but they've yet to find someone who remembers like him. They feel erased, all friends they'd tried to reach for not knowing him. Not to mention that, this time? It seems the Fears are more than fiction...

_

I've never done an rp on tumblr, so please bare with me!!

Contentwarnings for: possible mentions of falling, drowning, helplessness, isolation, legal and non drugs and abuse (verbal and in the past, it's parental)

I'm mainly aiming for sfw, but willing to do nsfw if discussed beforehand.

Flirting is perfectly fine, and if there is anything you're unsure of, just ask!

Okay I think this is it for now? May update if need be.

Update: when my text is blue, it is for rp purposes, my 'canon typical' posts and the like will be in the normal white! This is to keep things more easily separated.

Purple and cursive is for little snippits of Rose's past present and future, meant to just aid in extra info one may want to use, or just to enjoy getting to know a little bit more.

Asks are more than welcome!! I love them, always open for them! Dms are also open for rp purposes ald discussing ideas or just questions!

[deftinesia]

I don't know, but what if, just what if, the reader was offered the good life where she was safe and really! away from harm, AS just an example, okay??? What if the offer was that she would be on a good old safe and far away island where the enemy couldn't find her and she would have everything there, everything she needed, plus the island meant close to the fucking ocean. Like as in without the thought of "there's no safe place" cuz like the island would be reaaalllyy safe like for real no bs aside. Would she take it? In this current timeline where she's slowly easing with the 141?? My girl needs a damn rest a whole time rest🫳💣☹️

ooooh she’d take that option in a heartbeat. if the CIA offered her a safehouse somewhere—one without hidden cameras and listening devices—she would go. it’d be good for her to live quietly without any pain, just waking up whenever (if she could even sleep through an entire night) she wants, learning how to cook and bake what her mother-figure made her when she was young and laughing when she messes up, dipping her toes in the water & slowly growing comfortable with swimming in open water, and to just live. to discover who she is without all this endless pain and suffering. she’s never had that opportunity. she’s just … survived all this time. barely.

[synthy-sizer]

5 MONTHS AGO

Whenever you look at Sofia, you can practically see the web of connections, information, the threads of fate all connected to her. There's so many that they overlap into a single white aura, before branching out into an endless spiderweb. You've read before that the sight of angels is like that. They can see everything about everything, an endless stream of data covering their entire visions. Just looking at a table would tell them the dimensions of every part, the materials, the varnish, the number of screws and bolts, and how many hands had ever touched it. They could even see the entire timeline of it from the sapling of the tree and the ore in the dirt all the way till it was rust and rot.

You like to think sometimes that that's what you see when you look at people. But you know that can't be true. You can't see everything you were promised, and you can barely comprehend what you can see. It hurts your eyes and your mind, overwhelming your senses, leaving you overstimulated and fighting to ground yourself. Despite everything, you're frustrated to find that you still need guidance.

“Sorry again that I keep doing this, starting to answer your questions and stopping. There's just…a lot going on in my head.” She tilts her head at you. You lack the words to explain the situation to her, just like how you feel unable to grasp at the threads of your destiny. “I think, by and large, there's only one thing you want to know, right? I told you I talked to God.” She nods. “Yeah, I figured as much. That deserves an explanation.”

…..

??? YEARS AGO

You hold your hand to your brow and blink away the light as you once again emerge on the beach, out of the dark. At least this time you weren't drowning. Now that you're back at the dock, you need to consider your options. Despite the strangely familiar sensation in the back of your mind suggesting that the dock is far enough to reach, you can see just fine that it's the length of a normal dock. It won't just continue far into the ocean. You need some way of crossing the water, but you don’t exactly enjoy the idea of swimming. Maybe the dock was designed with a vehicle in mind, like a large ship or a submarine, but you doubt you'll be seeing one anytime soon. You pace around in the white sand, considering, and you feel your foot press against something firm. You crouch down and dig with your hands, and see something that could single handedly save you; the undeniable wooden curve of a boat. With no other option, you start digging.

The white sand seems to sparkle the lower you dig. Your fingers almost look like they're covered in white glitter. You have no idea how long you spent shoveling sand with your hands, but eventually you've moved enough to tug the boat out of its tomb. With the boat out, you examine the bounty of your efforts. It looks like an old rowboat. The wood is dark with age, but it looks like it will hold water. Experimentally, you heave it into the water and watch it carefully. It bobs in the black waves faithfully. There's no water pooling inside. That's a good start. Now, you just need oars. With any luck, they'll be around where the boat was buried.

It takes a bit of searching and experimenting with fallen branches, poking in the dirt and leveraging them to feel any resistance, but eventually you locate the 2 oars. They're equally showing their age, but they feel sturdy. Now, you suppose, all that's left is to set off. You walk alongside the boat until it's deep enough, hop in, and start rowing.

Once again, you can't be sure how long the journey took. The beach slowly faded away, and all you were left with was the black of the ocean below you and the white of the sky above. It felt intangible, as if you had wandered into a different plane of reality altogether. But beyond that, it also felt transient. You somehow knew despite its appearance that it couldn't last forever. It was like a slipstream between realities. All you had to do was cross it. Still, the end came abruptly. Despite its closeness, the gargantuan pillar seemed to blend in with the sky, to the point you almost crashed straight into it. But thankfully you were attentive enough to notice. Barely. There's a landing carved into it, perhaps not a dock, but still at the right height for you to climb on. You carefully get the boat right up against it and hop up.

The space you find yourself in now is even stranger than the black sea you just traveled across. It's hard to even make out the fine details of the room due to it all being made of the same white marble. You would almost say it was carved out of the pillar, but the cuts look too smooth and clean for even the most advanced cutting and carving tools you've ever heard of. It's uncertain what exactly you need to do next. But there is a set of stairs. Nowhere to go but up. You start climbing. And climbing. And climbing. You walk up stairs for what must have been years. As you climb, you see things. Things impossible to describe in words, and too many to describe at all. The higher you climb the more the essence of the pillar makes itself clear to you. It contains homes, storefronts, roads, entire cities. An entire civilization lived on this leg. The pillar starts to widen and curve as you get higher, and your occasional views from the perfectly cut windows show you that there's 8 others just like it, all converging into a dome. The sky isn't real. It's carved tiles that glow a now harsh white, the dullness completely removed now that you're so close. People lived here. A society lived here, across 9 gigantic city-sized legs supporting a gigantic dome. But why? How long had they existed? How long did it take to build? Who lived here? Who made it? And perhaps, more importantly than anything else….

Why is it totally abandoned?

Every single block, every home, every store, is empty. All carved from the same uniform white. And this gigantic feat of engineering and art is abandoned? What were they running from? You climb and you climb and you climb, until finally you reach the top. It must have been decades, now. It feels like it, at least. Years of walking, exploring, pausing and dealing with the dread, and walking again. Being at the top feels unfathomable. There's a landing at the top, a flat disk that overlooks the entire world. You can see the shape of the vaguely circular island with its dark green trees, and the black ocean far, far below you. And there's more stairs. A spiral staircase, leading up. A harsh white glow shines from the vertical tunnel in the roof. Once again, nowhere to go but up.

You climb the stairs, the light growing harsher and harsher, until…..

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

Hello! Hope you're well! I just wanted to say that I absolutely love Of Timelines and Trolleys. I can't wait to see what you write next ^^

Also! (on a somewhat unrelated note) Do you think Cybertronians dream?

Thank you! 😭

Personally, I think Cybertronians don't strictly dream, at least not by our standards.

Dreams are usually our brain's way of sorting through memories and processing events, I do think Cybertronians experience phenomena with the same purpose, just not as abstract as we do. Instead of dreaming about losing bits of their denta, or of an endless ocean of energon, or *shivers* pink bunnies- I think they'll actually run through the recorded memory files. Literally reliving actual events instead of a subconsciously fabricated one.

It's one of the reasons why I think human minds would be so confusing to a bot. The concept of nightmares/dreams, especially ones that can seem so illogical once you've woken up, would be baffling.

However, I do think this would make "dream sequences" or visions more identifiable and significantly more important for a bot. Because it is the opposite of what they'd typically experience, it has to be some telepathic effect or a message from a higher power. Such as, say a prime speaking to his brethren?

That's just my thoughts on it, but thanks for asking :)

[softspeirs]

Everything Has Its Place

Pairing: Joe Liebgott x OFC (Anna) Summary: Anna and Joe have a heart-to-heart after an argument. Mid-war timeline. You can read more about Lieb and Anna here.

But sure as a ring goes with a hand Stars with the moon And just like the ocean pairs well with the sand I go with you

It’s absolute chaos during and after taking Carentan. Anna feels like she hasn’t had a second to breathe in days. Between her and Shifty nearly being pinned down and the endless combat, her eyes are practically crossed due to exhaustion.

“Drink.” A hand is in her face, thrusting a canteen at her. 

She looks up, eyes barely open, seeing Liebgott standing over her. “You should save it for yourself.” 

He looks-- well, he looks like shit. He’s as tired as she is, no doubt. There’s something else in his eyes she doesn’t recognize. 

“What happened to you?” He asks, gesturing at her forehead as he sits down next to her. 

“Oh,” she says, like she’d forgotten, reaching up to dab at the half-dried blood on her face. “Comes with the territory unfortunately.” 

She and Shifty had been pinned down on opposite ends of a chicken coop for nearly a half hour during the heat of the battle. Between the fucking chickens squawking their heads off and the bullets whizzing by, enough debris and shrapnel had been flying around to cut Anna’s face in several places. 

She also feels sore on one arm, but she’s pretty sure she hasn’t been hit. She’s not bleeding, at any rate. Her rifle arm especially feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. She had her arms upright for nearly the entire battle. 

“Here.” He tries again, and this time she takes the water, chugging some of it before handing it back to him. 

“You okay?” She asks, glancing at him up and down. He looks alright, but there’s still that... something on his face from earlier.

“Fine, only a few scratches. I-- Tipper got hit. Bad.” 

“Shit.” Anna swears, turning to face him. “Is he--”

“I don’t know. He was alive when I left him. I don’t-- Jesus, Anna, you should have seen him. There was so much blood, and his fucking legs...” 

“You don’t have to talk about it.” This is Joe’s best friend they’re talking about. To live through Normandy and then have to go through this? The world is a cruel place sometimes, and she hates that Joe Liebgott is the one bearing the brunt right now.

They both sit there for awhile in silence, heads leaning back against the wall at their backs. Anna’s breath slows and Joe is pretty sure she’s asleep. He’s hesitant to wake her, but Lieutenant Welsh starts hollering, and she startles awake.

“Easy, Tiger.” He says, and she glares. 

“Let’s go, first!” Welsh calls from the distance. “Cunningham!” He shouts, and Anna’s on her feet with a groan, Joe right beside her.

“Be careful,” she says quietly, and with a small smile, she’s gone, leaving him to watch after her, that tightening feeling in his chest getting worse when she’s out of his sight.

.

That night they finally have some rest, though everyone is on edge. They took some fire earlier in the day and Anna was grazed, and everyone’s been walking on eggshells around her ever since.

Everyone, that is, except Joe Liebgott.

He’s glaring at her now from across the foxhole, as the Germans on the other side of the hedgerow keep right on singing as if they don’t have a care in the world.

“You need the aid station.” He grumbles, eyes fixed on the spot on her shoulder where a white bandage is soaking through. The bleeding has mostly stopped, but Anna can’t deny she’s hurting. 

“Doc said--”

“I heard what he said.” 

Anna’s face scrunches in displeasure. “What’s with you, Lieb?”

“Maybe I just got done scrubbing my friend’s blood off my hands from fucking  earlier, and I don’t want to have to do it a second time.” Without thinking, he absently rubs his hands over his pant legs. 

“In case you missed it,” Anna hisses, trying to keep her voice down, “I was already hit, Lieb. It won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know that.” He fires back, eyes dark. “And you don’t need to remind me that I wasn’t there.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Denying you a chance to play white knight, Joe? Jesus Christ.”

He leans forward, grabbing her arm. “That’s not what I meant and you know it, Cunningham. Sorry I wanted to help my fucking friend.” He says, vitriol lacing his words.

She knows she’s being unreasonable, but she’s also a goddamn sniper. One of the best marksman in Easy, and she’s tired of everyone acting like she needs to be rescued. Especially Liebgott, who, as he so gently put it, is supposed to be her fucking friend. He’s supposed to have a little bit of faith in her.

“You can’t be behind me every time, Lieb.” She says tiredly, trying to soften her words. “They’re firing at me more than they’re firing at you.” 

“Just leave it, Cunningham.” He says, and before she can reply, Talbert is there, waiting to get Liebgott for his watch. 

“All right?” Tab asks, hesitating, watching Lieb go.

“I’ll be fine.” 

He raises a brow, but doesn’t challenge her, just tips his helmet to her before heading off to follow Liebgott. 

.

The next day is another shit show. They’re in it from the moment they wake until nearly nightfall, but the 2d armored division shows up right in time to save their asses. 

Joe and Lieutenant Welsh are sharing a cigarette on the edge of a hedgerow with shaky hands when Anna shows up, sliding in next to them. 

“Cunningham, how we faring today?” Welsh asks, a big grin on his face. 

“I’ll be hard of hearing for years, sir, but I’ll live.” 

He nods. “That’s my girl.” He swats at her helmet, knocking it askew. 

She scowls, but it transforms into an easy smile, the adrenaline of winning the fight hard to keep off her face. 

“I should go find out what’s what.” Welsh says, and leaves her there with Joe, who hasn’t looked at Anna once. 

“You hit?” Anna asks him, and he shakes his head. 

“No. A few close calls, though.”

“You’re telling me.”

He takes a deep breath, then finally meets her eyes. “Look, I’m not good at apologies, okay?”

She shrugs. “Me either. And for the record, I wasn’t asking for one.”

Joe fidgets, looking down at his hands. “Tipper-- that scared me, alright? I just... I don’t want to see that happen to anyone else. Especially you.”

Anna freezes, but the look on his face passes. “You can’t protect me forever, Joe.” Before he can open his mouth to reply, she continues, “You know I’ve got your back, right? I don’t mean to be so--”

“Bitchy? Reckless?” He snipes, but there’s no heat behind his words. In fact, she can still see the lingering worry in his eyes.

“I have to be, Lieb. You know that. Everyone was expecting me to fail on day one, and be some wilting flower. I had to cut that shit out of my personality. I’m not doing it to worry you or-- be a bitch, as you so eloquently put it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know that. It’s me you’re talking to.” He lights up another cigarette with slightly shaking hands. “’M sorry, okay? Christ.”

She rolls her eyes at how exasperated he sounds, but nudges his shoulder with her own. “I know you are, stupid. I am too. We’ll be alright, you and me.”

He meets her gaze with that look again, the one she can’t decipher no matter how hard she tries. It’s gone as soon as he blinks, but she feels the weight of unspoken things settle in between them again. 

She just knows one thing for sure - they’re a pair. In one way or another, they go together. They have since basic when they were paired together for nearly every drill, every exercise. It’s been Anna and Lieb since day one, even if they had to quit arguing for two seconds to realize how well they worked together.

It’s always been Anna and Lieb, and she’s going to work damn hard to make sure it stays that way. 

Everything has its place It is certain to me now Wild and arranged We were built for the same purpose somehow As sure as a ring goes with a hand Stars with the moon Just like the ocean pairs well with the sand I go with you